The Perversion of Pegasus

I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, the story, or the characters. Wish I did, though.


Arms tight around his neck, lips against his ear, “Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Pegasus says, and he leans back against the wall, pulling him in close. It stinks back here, that’s what Keith thinks; he knows stink, and this goddamn stinks. But rich people are crazy, and here’s where Pegasus always wants to do it, right in this corner, behind the building, where there’s shit on the ground, and he can tell it’s not dog shit.

“Come on, baby, what’s your problem?” giving him a little nip on the ear, “you like it rough, don’t you?” Pegasus’ hands move down to his ass, pulling until their bodies grind together, and he can feel the erection inside the expensive pants. He wants to say something about all the piss that’s gone on that wall; about the winos who’ve been back here and puked, before going on. But whenever he does, it just makes Pegasus hotter.

“Give it to me baby.” He’s almost humping him now, his knee between Keith’s legs. “Give it to me hard.” He lets out a sigh. “Fuck me so I can feel it this time.” Crazy rich dude! Crazy rich bastard, who owns him just as if he’s bought and paid for him. (Maybe he has.)

“Fuck me, Keith,” biting harder this time, “what are you waiting for?” Pegasus’ fingers are digging into his ass hard enough to leave marks.

Keith unzips his pants. Just once he’d like to say no. He’d like to hit Pegasus for real, to mark that pretty face of his; give him what he deserves. And if he did? He can’t think about what would happen then; his erection melts when he does.

He’s ready for it; he’s always ready, especially when they’re back here. “Maybe someone will come by,” he whispers, as Keith enters. “They’ll see us,” laughing kind of frantically, “you think we could be arrested?”

(You’d like that, wouldn’t you?) He’s inside, moving so he slams him against the wall. (You want a bad cop to get you.) Keith always gets excited once he’s doing it. Grabbing Pegasus’ shoulders, he moves faster, and he can hear his ass hit the wall.

“God, yes Keith,” that crazy whisper against his ear, “keep doing that.” He’s fucking him so hard you’d think it would kill him, but it’s never hard enough.

When he comes, he wishes that was the end, but it never is. Pegasus’ hands on his head shove him down, push him to take him in his mouth. Then he moves slow, very slow, slower than you’d think anyone could when they’re being sucked off. Keith hates the thought of what’s under his knees on the ground. “Stay there,” moving faster at last, “like that; keep doing that.” Pegasus thrusts deep into the back of his throat; then he comes right when Keith is sure he’s never going to.

After that, it’s all business with him. Zipping his pants, “same place next week, Keith?” And he turns to go.

“Yes, Master Pegasus.” He leaves too. (Crazy rich fuck. Thinks he owns me.) But it’s still early. There’s bars around here, and if he hurries, he can get in a few beers before it’s time to go home.