Dark Roads

Disclaimer - No, I don't own the boys of YuGiOh. One can wish though.

Expanded Summary - Atemu (Yami) is suffering from the end of a relationship and a desire to explore some disturbing changes in his sexual needs. Can he find what he needs in Bakura, a man he was a rival with in highschool? And what of Seto, his just-broken relationship? Can Atemu weather the storm of life . . . or will it drag him under?

Author's Notes - Yeah, I know, it's not the best summary in the world. I'll warn you all now . . . there's no mystical stuff, no magic or shadow powers, no Millennium Items. This is the YGO boys thrown into REAL LIFE! Real problems, real issues, although I won't tell you where my ideas are coming from. Let's just say this is therapy. I hope you all enjoy, and I told you I wouldn't be gone long!

Dark Roads

Chapter 1 – Unexpected Meetings


Wandering down the streets of Domino late at night was not usually something Atemu enjoyed doing, and yet at eleven on a Wednesday night, that was exactly where he found himself.

He couldn’t help it . . . he had a lot on his mind and simply lying in bed at home didn’t help anything. He’d covered a lot of ground already, and he couldn’t even really begin to tell someone where he’d been to that night, if anyone had chosen to ask. But no one bothered him . . . he was simply another young adult, wandering the streets later at night then usual.

Seto was leaving him.

He supposed he really shouldn’t have been surprised. They’d been discontent with each other for months. Seto’s work took up most, if not all, of his free time, and Atemu had begun to develop certain . . . needs . . . that the young CEO couldn’t meet. Needs to cause pain . . . to taste blood, to watch someone bleed. Not something Seto was comfortable with.

This move to America was really a blessing in disguise, he figured. Or at least, he tried to think that way. Seto would be gone from Domino . . . no worries about running into him unexpectedly, no having painful memories dug up by some unwelcome meetings.

The problem was, it still hurt to think of him with someone else . . . yet Yami knew he’d already found someone in America. He’d had the audacity to ask, when Seto had come back last week for a visit and told him that he’d wanted to separate permanently.

It hadn’t shocked him . . . he’d been expecting it, after all. Yami couldn’t leave Domino . . . there was too much tying him here, like his little brother, Yugi. He was Yugi’s guardian after all . . . and Yugi was in his senior year of high school. If Seto could have waited, he would have been able to join him in another four months. But that was not to be now. Not really hurtful, but still painful on some level, that he had been replaced so easily by the person he’d once thought he’d loved.

So lost in thought, he didn’t see the gathered group of people in front of him until he’d walked right into the middle of them . . . and promptly wished he’d paid more attention.

“Hey, Thief, we’ve got company!” Hands jostled him from all sides, and a low growl began to rise in his throat as he tore himself away from them. He really didn’t need this right now.

“Let me go, or lose that hand permanently,” he snarled as someone grabbed his elbow harshly.
“Have you got the guts to back that threat up, Atemu?” a familiar voice growled in response, and crimson eyes widened before he turned his head to meet dangerous magenta in a pale face. A face he knew all too well . . . a face that he’d once hated with a passion to rival Seto’s hatred of Jou Katsuya.

“Bakura,” he snapped, yanking his arm out of the pale man’s grip angrily. “I should have known. Running with the Jackals, are we? Figures.” He was somewhat surprised when the man smirked at him, tucking his hands into his black jeans as he sized Atemu up with his eyes.

“Actually, not running with them, Atemu. Running them, period.” Somehow, that fact didn’t surprise him.
He and Bakura had gone to school together . . . and had been in rival social groups. Bakura, of course, hung out with the rougher crowd. The bullies, the malcontents, the outcasts . . . those had been Bakura’s friends, his little group of buddies that thought they ran the school.

Atemu, on the other hand, had been part of the social elite . . . the popular group. The rich kids, the athletes, the cheerleaders. The true power in the school. The two groups had constantly gotten into fights, and often Bakura and Atemu had been at odds with each other. Bakura had a younger brother as well, one that he treated generally like crap whenever they were seen together. Atemu had taken offense to that on numerous occasions, and stood up for the boy when he wouldn’t stand up for himself. That, of course, had not endeared him to the white-haired Bakura at the time, since often it was himself that Atemu had been defending his brother against.

“Hey, Thief . . . you going to let him threaten you and get away with it?” one voice asked, breaking the silent appraisal the two had been involved in. Bakura smirked, running a hand through his mop of unruly white hair as he met the crimson eyes head on.

“No, I don’t think so. Not from Atemu here. He’s a fucking rich kid . . . a spoiled brat. I’m certainly not going to take a threat from him. The question remains, can you back that threat up?”

Atemu growled low in his throat, stepping forward until he was almost nose to nose with the pale man. He hated when people underestimated him, both because of who he had hung out with, and what he looked like. So he was a bit on the short side . . . five foot five inches wasn’t that bad in their family. At least he’d topped five foot, which was better than most of his bloodline. What was left of it, at any rate.
Then there was the fact that he was craving a little bloodshed and mayhem here lately. That was something Bakura was good at. Perhaps running into the Jackals had been a good thing after all.

“I can back it up, Bakura,” he snarled. “You and me, here and now. I win, I gain entrance to the Jackals. You win, I give you any one thing you want.” Bakura actually looked startled, magenta eyes widening a fraction before they narrowed again, and he nodded once, curtly.

“Here and now,” he agreed. The gang spread out in a circle around them, giving them their space as Bakura shrugged out of his leather trench coat and tossed it to nearby hands before pulling out his blade.

Atemu arched a brow at the blade, but said nothing against it as he tossed his own jacket aside, reaching behind his back to draw his own knife . . . a knife Seto had not approved of. The sharp edge curved slightly, the spine jagged with what were termed as ‘bone teeth’, also sharp, and good for tearing flesh as the blade was removed from its victim. It fit comfortably in his hand, and it had made Seto very uncomfortable when he’d begun playing with it frequently. Simply sitting in a chair watching tv, the blade absently rolling around in his hand, or pressing against his flesh teasingly, just enough for him to taste the pain, but not enough to cut . . . it had made Seto uneasy.

Bakura looked impressed.

“Nice,” he murmured, before settling into a ready stance, blade held steady in front of him, slightly raised but otherwise on guard. Atemu smirked before following suit, his blade held just a bit higher and a little farther out to his side. He was betting Bakura didn’t think he knew how to wield a knife, so he deliberately took a stance that invited attack, opening himself up to a first move. One that he was sure Bakura wouldn’t be able to resist.

He’d been correct. Bakura slid forward with the grace of a striking snake, blade reaching for flesh . . . and was stunned when he met nothing. Atemu had spun from the strike, coming around on his unprotected side gracefully, the blade dancing up over his ribs in a shallow cut that didn’t do any real damage, but hurt just enough to let him know he’d been kissed.

It was easy to tell that the rest of the Jackals were surprised that Atemu had drawn first blood. There was a collective indrawn breath, one that many of them held as Bakura whirled to strike again . . . and hissed as he found the blade of Atemu’s knife resting against his pale throat lightly, with just enough pressure to warn him not to move.

“I win,” he murmured, crimson eyes slightly narrowed with concentration as he met magenta across the glittering silver of his blade. The magenta widened almost imperceptibly before narrowing again, and Atemu had just enough time to tense in preparation before Bakura was simply not there, and his feet were knocked out from under him. He kept hold of his knife on instinct, but it served no good when he found himself pinned beneath the pale man . . . whose body lay stretched enticingly on top of his own.

“Not yet,” Bakura growled, staring down at him, a smirk crossing those pale features as Atemu bucked upwards, testing the limits of his movement. “Give, and I might go easy on you.” He was surprised when Atemu smiled at him . . . a genuine, happy smile that spoke of enjoyment of a challenge.

“No way,” Atemu said back . . . before hooking his leg around Bakura’s knee and rolling. It was obvious he’d caught Bakura by surprise . . . the pale body rolled easily, and his smile turned to one of triumph as he turned the tables on the man. Now it was Bakura who was pinned, and Atemu who lay atop him.
There was a minor problem with that, as he noted after a moment of stunned stillness. He was aroused . . . highly aroused. And from the feel of things, so was Bakura. Now that was an interesting development. He hadn’t thought the pale man swung that way. Of course, it could just be the situation . . . battle heated the blood, made it difficult for the body to cope, and arousal was the usual response. But somehow, for some reason, that just didn’t seem to be the case. Or maybe he was just hoping it wasn’t.

He got his answer when his opponent lunged upward . . . and took his lips in a brutal, hungry kiss. Tongues dueled for dominance, neither coming out the winner as they both broke to take in air, only to go right back at it.

Atemu moaned as Bakura ground their hips together teasingly, momentarily forgetting this was a duel like any other, and that the man currently tormenting him sexually was the enemy. That momentary lapse in judgment almost cost him highly as Bakura rolled them again, coming back up on top and pressing his hips into Atemu’s harshly.

But he’d forgotten the blade, and Atemu was quick to grab it in one hand, bringing it up so that it rested against the exposed flesh where Bakura’s shirt had ridden up slightly in their minor tussle.

Surprisingly, Bakura shuddered at the touch of naked steel against his flesh, but not in the ‘this is bad’ way. He looked even more turned on than he had before, if that was possible. Atemu’s mind wrapped around that fact and held on for dear life . . . his enemy, who was highly attractive and very highly aroused, wasn’t afraid of pain. Unlike Seto, who was so afraid of it as to be virtually paranoid. This was someone who could meet his needs.

“Give, Bakura,” he murmured huskily, licking his lips to wet them even though his mouth had suddenly gone dry in anticipation and sexual hunger. “Then we can get on to more . . . interesting things.” Magenta eyes darkened with hunger, pale pink tongue darting out to lick at full lips. Atemu found himself wondering what else that tongue could lick, and quickly reigned in his mind before it could travel that route farther than he needed it to at the moment. If he lost concentration now, he would lose, and he could forget whatever ideas he might have.

He had to have gone patently insane to even be thinking this way about Bakura, but the fire in his blood and the promise of his fulfillment more than made up for who his likely partner would be. So what if Bakura had been his enemy in high school, and likely still was. He could handle the title of ‘fuck buddy’, as long as it got him what he needed, what he craved. And Atemu knew instinctively that Bakura would take everything he could dish out, and give it back just as easily. That prospect excited him to no end. He needed this, badly.

He hadn’t expected the man to give up, however, and he wasn’t disappointed when he felt the cool metal of Bakura’s knife come to rest at his throat. He nearly sighed in pleasure at the feeling it gave him, but that would be giving far too much away at the moment. So he bit it back and merely settled for narrowing his eyes, letting his desires flood the crimson orbs and telling the man just exactly what he wanted them to. He was hungry, and not for food. He wanted blood, and pain, and sex. Not necessarily in that order.

“It looks to me like we’re at a draw, Atemu,” Bakura growled, his own voice thick with untold pleasures and promises that made the lithe body beneath him want to shiver. That voice rolled over his skin like a velvet covered hand, made Atemu want to writhe and buck beneath him, even as the pale body pressed into his hips again, proving to him just how turned on Bakura was by this whole battle. “We’re going to have to call this even.”

“I suppose so,” Atemu snarled back, biting back a whimper of loss as Bakura rose off of him smoothly. He was surprised when the man held a hand out to him in a silent offer of help, one which he took. He gasped slightly as the pale figure pulled him easily to his feet . . . and into that hard, slim body, pressing him against the solid form, bathing him in the heat that seemed to radiate off of it.

“Welcome to the Jackals . . . Yami,” Bakura said. “To them, I am simply Thief. Try to remember that.” He let go of Atemu abruptly, spinning on one heel to stalk over to the guy holding his coat, sheathing his blade as he went. Atemu followed suit, retrieving his own jacket as he put his blade away after carefully cleaning it off on his shirt, wishing he’d could have licked it clean, as he really wanted to do. But the blood on it had gotten dirty during their roll, so he settled for wiping it off on the black cotton before putting it back in it’s sheath.

He shrugged into his jacket, and turned just in time to catch the wadded ball of paper that Bakura had flung at him.

“Our address,” the man said, standing among his gang as they gathered about him once again, leaving Atemu standing alone near a tree. “Be there tomorrow at five in the afternoon. We’ll discuss your position in our ranks then.” Without another word, he moved off, taking the group of roughs with him.
Atemu watched him go through narrowed crimson eyes, annoyed that he wasn’t going to get the satisfaction that he wanted right then.

“I’ll be there, asshole,” he growled, tucking the ball of paper away in a pocket to look at later. “And Ryou needs to start keeping you on a fucking leash.”

Turning away, he strode off toward home . . . but even the fact that he wasn’t going to get what he wanted that night couldn’t dampen the anticipation that soon he would have a playmate that could give him all that he wanted and more. Life was suddenly looking up.


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


“Bakura, are you sure that was a good idea?” Marik snarled, striding along beside the pale man angrily. “He’s a fucking rich boy. What if he gives that information to the cops?” Bakura barked a laugh, glancing up at his violet-eyed second and occasional lover speculatively.

“Jealous, Marik?” he asked, and laughed again at the growl the tall blonde directed at him. “Relax, you moron. He’s not going to give that information to anyone. I’ve got something he wants.”

If someone had asked him what that whole episode had been about, he wouldn’t really have been able to give them a clear answer. He wasn’t quite sure what that scuffle with Atemu had been about.

Word on the street had it that Seto Kaiba had found himself a new bedmate. Surprising, considering that word on the street also said that he and Atemu had been a couple for nearly three years. Of course, everyone knew that Kaiba had moved to America for his business, and Atemu couldn’t go right away because of his younger brother, Yugi. Ryou had told him all of that.

Running into his former nemesis so late on a school night had been surprising. But what had been more surprising had been Atemu’s request to join the Jackals if he won the fight. And what had been downright astonishing had been the capability he’d had with that blade he’d been carrying. Bakura had yet to have met someone as good with a blade as he was . . . and yet, he’d just found his match in a spoiled rich boy who he’d been at odds with all through high school.

He suspected it had something to do with the breakup. Atemu was looking for a release, something to pass away the time as he healed. Well, Bakura was more than willing to step into the role of ‘occasional bed-mate’. The other man was hot, and he’d never been so worked up in his life. If it wouldn’t have looked bad to the rest of his gang, he would have taken Atemu home right then, and fucked his brains out until the sun came up.

But he wanted to see just how far the rich boy would go. So he’d given him the address to their hangout, and told him when to be there. He was relatively sure the man would show up, and he would have a surprise in store for him. If Atemu really wanted into the Jackals, he was going to have to prove himself, like everyone else . . . although he had a good head start by fighting him to a draw.

Licking his lips in anticipation of feeling that lean, golden skinned body under his own, Bakura started planning.

AN - that's all for now. Let me know what you think, would you?