Power of Voodoo

Disclaimer: I claim no rights to Yu-Gi-Oh, which is copyright to Kazuki Takahashi.

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It was Malik’s birthday, and that was most certainly a special occasion. Ryou had spent weeks begging Bakura for the favour, and now just about everything was prepared for what he was going to do for Malik on this special day of the year.

Every year, on the 23rd of December, Malik was depressed, if only because it was the anniversary of the scarification of his back, and also the anniversary of Marik’s birth, though, as Bakura said, that was hardly a problem any more. Not when the two were shagging hour in hour out. So this year, Ryou had made a promise to himself, that he would make Malik’s birthday enjoyable for the tan teen, and he had gone to great personal risk – well, risk of molestation – to get what he needed from Bakura.

Luckily, Bakura had spare voodoo dolls, as he was teaching Marik the ancient African art, even if they would only use it to torture the Pharaoh, and Isis of course, because she got on their nerves no end. It had only taken a quick promise of alcohol to Bakura and Ryou was allowed one of the dolls, which he melted slightly, refashioning it to look like his lover, even making little Malik-clothes to dress it in.

Ryou hadn’t told Bakura what he had planned, which just irritated the spirit to no end, but he was sure that his birthday present would be pleasurable for both he and Malik.

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It was late evening before Malik got home from the rather posh Italian restaurant he worked at, where he was a waiter, and, as predictable, his melancholy mood overshadowed his usually rather cheerful disposition.

“All right, Malik?” Ryou asked, a small and secretive smile lighting his face as he thought about what he had waiting for Malik as soon as the other teen changed out of his work clothes.

“Sort of.” The young Egyptian shrugged off his shirt and red silk sash belt, leaving him half naked, dressed only in smart black trousers, which he also took off and hung up. When he loved Ryou so much, why should he worry about walking around the house naked? It was nothing either of them hadn’t seen before, of course.

Ishtar disappeared upstairs to change into his preferred style of clothing at the moment, gothic, even though he stoically refused to have any tattoos, piercings or even dye his hair, his excuse being that he had had enough of tattoos and piercings to last a lifetime, and he was edgy about putting chemicals in his hair. So he was only gothic in clothes, a spiky collar, a fishnet top and tight black leather trousers.

The irony that hit Ryou was far too great – Malik had no idea for how short a time he would be wearing those clothes, and he hurried up into his room to change the voodoo doll – he had prepared a small version of all of Malik’s clothes, to be sure to get the exact same outfit, otherwise what he was planning would never work.

So soon the little voodoo doll was dressed in the exact same way that Malik was, with the fishnet top and the tight leather trousers, even the little dog collar. The spiky collar, in Ryou’s opinion, had to be the greatest bonus about Malik’s current outfit, because it would make it even easier to entice the teen into his room.

The young Briton waited until after they had eaten a takeaway dinner before he acted, retreating to his room again and clearing the floor to create the large space that was usually hidden under a pile of rubbish. For someone so proper and polite, Ryou sure was messy. After the preparations had been made, the white-headed one attached a little leash to the collar of the voodoo doll and gave it a tug.

Malik suddenly, inexplicably, found himself being pulled towards Ryou’s room by the neck, as though on an invisible leash. Which is ironic, really, being as that was almost exactly what was pulling him. The Egyptian stumbled through the door, demanding to know what was going on, though his eyes widened when he saw the voodoo doll.

“Holy Ammon, Ryou, what are you planning to do with that!?” He asked, though fell silent when Ryou shook his head and tied the little voodoo leash to a little voodoo wall, rendering Malik immobile.

Ryou turned the doll on its back in the cardboard stage he had made for it, slowly raising its arms above its head and fastening them there with tiny elaborate manacles. Malik’s arms rose as the figurine’s arms rose, and were shackled to the ground by invisible chains. Try as he might, the teen could only kick his legs.

But that was soon to change, as Ryou completed the same procedure with the doll’s legs, spreading them wide and chaining them there, which left the real Malik exposed and bound deliciously on the floor, a thought so enticing that it made the usually introvert Briton lick his lips in hungry delight.

Before Malik could voice a protest, Ryou was slowly and sensuously hitching the shirt on the voodoo doll up along its arms, stopping at those chained wrists, and, amazingly, Malik’s shirt followed suit, exposing his bare chest. Unable to resist, Ryou ran a finger of the equivalent of a nipple on the voodoo doll and Malik gave a sharp, surprised gasp of pleasure.

Pleased with the reaction, Ryou repeated what he had just done, eliciting the same response every time he ran a finger across the nub of wax on the voodoo doll, though the gasp always came from Malik, who was being pleasured by some invisible force.

The white-haired one had soon grown tired of this game, and hitched the trousers of the voodoo doll down, smirking to himself at the little gasp that came from the Egyptian as his twitching-hard member was hit by the cold of the room. The young Briton grinned to himself and ran a single finger up the doll’s inner thigh, an action that caused Malik to jerk and wriggle against his transparent bonds.

Ryou relented, pressing that same finger to the wax figurine’s crotch, and Malik arched upwards, giving a breathy moan, his erection stone-hard for the world to see. Ryou smirked and repeated the action, and again the Egyptian tried to thrust his engorged penis into the pleasure. God, this sight was making Ryou unbelievably horny! It was hard to keep touching the wax of the doll instead of leaping on the helpless teen on the floor and ravishing that fine caramel body… good grief, Ryou Bakura, get your mind out of the gutter!

After a short while of extracting breathy moans from the Ishtar bound before him, Ryou decided to move to Phase 3 of his operation: Penetration.

With a thin wax stylus, Ryou gently prodding the voodoo doll’s arse, and Malik flinched as some invisible force pressed insistently against the opening of his anus, almost as though Ryou himself were there… the nib of whatever it was entered him, smoothly as though slicked by lubrication, and almost instantly found that famed bundle of nerves, causing the Egyptian to give a strangled moan of “Ngaah!”.

Grinning to himself, one hand absently moving down to press against his own neglected hardness, rubbing in small circles and then gripping and stroking himself through his trousers, his cheeks flushed in arousal and pleasure, Ryou found another two identical styluses and one larger one, pressing one of the smaller ones to join the first within the figurine.

Malik gave a tortured moan, jerking and arching his back against the unseen force that was skilfully manipulating him so. As he did this, his lilac eyes lit on Ryou, the sight of whom stroking himself was even more arousing, caused him to moan softly again and half-close his eyes, a moan that was repeated as the masturbating teen pushed the third thin stick of wax into the doll, preparing the real Malik for penetration.

Malik whimpered loudly as the three wax equivalents to fingers were withdrawn from his stretched entrance, his hips jerking this way and that, searching for pleasure. His bodily lamentations were stilled, however, as Ryou began to insert the large wax equivalent to his throbbing member into the small opening of the doll. Ishtar cried out loud, arching his back then slamming his hips down, trying to force himself further onto the penetration air, but was hindered to such an extent by the unseen bonds that it hardly made a difference, causing him to moan in frustration.

The sight of Malik writhing in pleasure on the floor, the electric signals sent up from the touch he was giving himself, it was all too much for Ryou, and he ripped away his trousers and top, searching frantically in a drawer for some lube, which he took over to the prostrated Malik. The Briton proceeded to spread some of the lube on his fingers, then massage it over Malik’s erect cock, something, which brought even more pleasure, moans forth from the teen.

Ryou had brought his voodoo doll over, as well as the stage it was chained to, and, as he lowered himself slowly onto the slickened arousal, he began to move the stylus in and out of the figurine, mimicking the thrusting of penetration.

Malik gave a loud whimpering cry, his eyes tight shut, his hips bucking upwards, thrusting himself deeper and deeper into the body of his pale lover, who instinctively tightened around him and caused him to moan and buck further. Ryou’s breath caught, and, turning so Malik could see him, he began to stroke himself again, slowly and deliberately.

That was just too much for the bronze teen, who was almost near completion anyway, and, with a long moan of pleasure, he released his seed into Ryou, jerking his hips up one last time. The feeling of that warmth spreading within him, combined with Malik’s hardness teasing his body and his own stroking hand tipped Ryou over the edge, and he came with such intensity that he collapsed on to Malik almost instantly, managing to coat both of their fronts with his semen.

Both just lay there for a minute, Ryou because he was exhausted and Malik because he could do little else, being pinned down by the ancient and fearsome African voodoo magic, before the young Briton remembered precisely why they had just shagged each other on the floor instead of the nice, warm, comfortable bed.

Releasing the figurine from its tiny shackles also freed Malik, who almost instantaneously wrapped his arms around the white-haired boy on top of him, the latter leaning down and whispering in his ear, rose lips brushing the sensitive flesh, teeth grazing before closing to nibble:

“Happy birthday, Malik.”