Dungeon
folder
Yu-Gi-Oh › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,055
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Yu-Gi-Oh › Yaoi - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,055
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own YuGiOh!, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Dungeon
I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, the story, or the characters. Wish I did, though.
The dungeons were damp and cold. The Master always said he hated it down there, but he always went back. And he always took Croquet with him. He shivered, as they went down into the darkness, pulling his coat tighter around his thin shoulders.
“That’s the cell I had him in.” Unlocking the door, he walked in behind the bars. Silently, two steps behind, Croquet followed. He touched the wall. “I chained him here, remember?”
In a neutral tone, “Yes, Master Pegasus.
“The chains cut into his wrists.” Lifting one, “They’re rusty, see?” He turned it in his hands. “There were rough, red places, like bracelets. I kissed them before I put on the bandages.” The chain clanked, as he dropped it back against the wall and turned away. “Why did I leave him down here at all?” His voice thickened. “I could have kept him in my room the whole time. Who would have dared say anything? It’s my castle.”
Walking back out of the cell, he gave the door a shove to slam it shut; Croquet caught it at the last moment and let himself out.
“You’re not him.” The Master turned, his voice rising. “What right do you have to be here?” Bowing his head, Croquet remained silent. “What the Hell right…” His voice shook, and he hit him, back-handed blows across the side of his head. “What good are you?”
Tears ran down, wetting the silver hair on his face; he looked at Croquet. “Open your mouth.” Taking his chin in his hand, “There,” he touched the place, “That’s where he broke your tooth.” A reminiscent laugh, “Before I beat him, and he belonged to me. His voice was like ice. “Suck me, Croquet. Let me feel the place in your mouth.”
The damp stone was cold under his knees. You have to be properly respectful, holding the Master’s hips. Often, it’s best to keep your hands at your sides, and let him hold you instead. He kept his lips tight, while Pegasus thrust against the back of his throat.
His voice was barely distinguishable through the tears. “You’re nothing, Croquet; he beat you so easily. He’s strong, and proud.” The sobs increased until he could barely get the words out. “Only I beat him, didn’t I? And he was mine. Tell me!” He hit him again, and thrust until he came in his mouth.
“I should stay down here.” His voice was tiny and sad. “Let you go up and continue your little chores, your little life.” Slumping, dejected, against the rough stone, “My life is over.” His face was hopeless, behind the silver hair. “It ended when I lost the Eye.” A deep breath, “Or maybe it was when he left. I don’t remember.”
He stood there, like he never wanted to leave, and Croquet wondered if he shouldn’t take him at his word, and go up by himself. Or chain him to the wall, maybe, and never come back for him? But he always put his hand on that bowed shoulder.
“Come, Master Pegasus,” and the Master always followed him, his face bleak, his steps very slow. They would walk back up the stairs together, and Croquet would go back to work, and everything would be like it always was. Until the next time the Master wanted to visit the dungeons.
The dungeons were damp and cold. The Master always said he hated it down there, but he always went back. And he always took Croquet with him. He shivered, as they went down into the darkness, pulling his coat tighter around his thin shoulders.
“That’s the cell I had him in.” Unlocking the door, he walked in behind the bars. Silently, two steps behind, Croquet followed. He touched the wall. “I chained him here, remember?”
In a neutral tone, “Yes, Master Pegasus.
“The chains cut into his wrists.” Lifting one, “They’re rusty, see?” He turned it in his hands. “There were rough, red places, like bracelets. I kissed them before I put on the bandages.” The chain clanked, as he dropped it back against the wall and turned away. “Why did I leave him down here at all?” His voice thickened. “I could have kept him in my room the whole time. Who would have dared say anything? It’s my castle.”
Walking back out of the cell, he gave the door a shove to slam it shut; Croquet caught it at the last moment and let himself out.
“You’re not him.” The Master turned, his voice rising. “What right do you have to be here?” Bowing his head, Croquet remained silent. “What the Hell right…” His voice shook, and he hit him, back-handed blows across the side of his head. “What good are you?”
Tears ran down, wetting the silver hair on his face; he looked at Croquet. “Open your mouth.” Taking his chin in his hand, “There,” he touched the place, “That’s where he broke your tooth.” A reminiscent laugh, “Before I beat him, and he belonged to me. His voice was like ice. “Suck me, Croquet. Let me feel the place in your mouth.”
The damp stone was cold under his knees. You have to be properly respectful, holding the Master’s hips. Often, it’s best to keep your hands at your sides, and let him hold you instead. He kept his lips tight, while Pegasus thrust against the back of his throat.
His voice was barely distinguishable through the tears. “You’re nothing, Croquet; he beat you so easily. He’s strong, and proud.” The sobs increased until he could barely get the words out. “Only I beat him, didn’t I? And he was mine. Tell me!” He hit him again, and thrust until he came in his mouth.
“I should stay down here.” His voice was tiny and sad. “Let you go up and continue your little chores, your little life.” Slumping, dejected, against the rough stone, “My life is over.” His face was hopeless, behind the silver hair. “It ended when I lost the Eye.” A deep breath, “Or maybe it was when he left. I don’t remember.”
He stood there, like he never wanted to leave, and Croquet wondered if he shouldn’t take him at his word, and go up by himself. Or chain him to the wall, maybe, and never come back for him? But he always put his hand on that bowed shoulder.
“Come, Master Pegasus,” and the Master always followed him, his face bleak, his steps very slow. They would walk back up the stairs together, and Croquet would go back to work, and everything would be like it always was. Until the next time the Master wanted to visit the dungeons.