Dishonest Mistake

Author's note: The plot idea was spurred from a conversation I had with... Itavita, I believe? Bah, I have a terrible memory. Anyway, I wrote this when I was – and still am – feeling rather sick and feverish. Thankfully, though, I haven't puked yet! That's a nice bit of information you absolutely needed to know. Lame title, I know. I've always had a nasty time with those things. But, er, yeah. Dishonest, because, well, stealing is dishonest, right? And Ryou makes a mistake, and it's a play on the term, "honest mistake"? Haha, get it? Yeah, I'm so witty...

I'm gonna go kill myself now for coming up with such bad puns.

Oh, and my old stories suck more than Ryou does. If you read them, keep in mind that I'm slowly – oh ever-so-slowly! – editing them.

Forgive how confusing and vague everything is (and also for the shortness). I think I'm about to pass out. Hello, ominous black dots invading my vision; how are you today?

Disclaimer: Don't own Yu-Gi-Oh!, but then, if you thought I did, you probably shouldn't be spending your time reading gay porn. Though, I don't really own the plot, either. Oh, dear.

---

d i s h o n e s t . m i s t a k e

It was not different from any night before as the thin slave slipped into the household master's bed chambers. There was more movement than he was used to, but that was ceased once the room's occupant noticed the new presence. The fair servant kept his head bowed, showing his submission. If he did not, he would be whipped for insolence, and after being showed just how seriously the rules were taken, Ryou found that he was quite a fast learner when the incentive came about.

The dark silhouette backed to sit onto the bed, which almost looked to be a movement made from shock, but it could very well have been stiff motions from weariness as well. The slave quickly moved to his knees, his eyes turned down, barely able to see much of anything in such dim lighting (so what was the point to try?). Only the moonlight crawling through the window basked the room, which was hardly enough to allow much of any sight at all. Without uttering a word, the obviously foreign boy leaned forward, taking the lack of resistance as a sign to continue the nightly ritual. Lightly callused hands from household chores reached out, gently searching out and finding the linen before lifting it back, face moving in closer. At first he thought that it had been the room itself, but now he realized that the rather distinct scent was coming from the one before him. He paused, his brows knit for a moment, unused to it. His master had been out all day, but what had he been doing to gain such an odor? It wasn't necessarily bad, but it was most certainly... off. It smelled of sweat and sand, of animal and musk. He must have been out traveling on the back of a mule or horse. Ryou had never had the privilege of such transportation, and he somewhat greedily inhaled, mind whispering a tale of what he might one day be able to do himself.

Without missing another beat, his lithe fingers of one hand slid fluently under the cloth and the pads of his digits connected with soft flesh, wrapping around the organ and bringing it up, his mouth opened and his eyelids fluttering as he once more leaned forward, taking the penis past his lips. There was an intake of breath and then a shaky sigh from above, which was all the pale-haired boy needed to be urged onward. When he had first been taken in and forced into sexual positions with his master, he had been embarrassed, horrified, and had even broken down to tears before that had been ripped out of him. He knew little shame now, and would bend to whatever his lord said. And so, without even a flush to his face, he worked on preparing his master so that he could truly begin his task. Sucking lightly, he could hear something akin to a growl rumble throughout the otherwise quiet room, his tongue feeling the flesh it massaged grow somewhat stiff, his master's body seeming to relax and shift, legs spreading and the smell peeking out once more. But Ryou went closer still, taking in the other's length until his upper lip was tickled with the familiar bristly hair.

The slave had become accustomed to almost dissociate himself with what he was doing, instead focusing on objects or sounds around him. Concentrate on the unsteady breathing, the sound of crickets from outside the mudbrick house, the feeling of expensive, finely spun clothing beneath his fingers...

The roof of his mouth was nearly stroked with the hard organ and it brought him back into his own body. Pulling back so far that his lips left the saliva-coated flesh which was, by this time, hard, his eyes flickered open just barely, his dark orbs glancing up to see his master's face even though he knew it was mostly useless. Though, he could somewhat make out features, they looked odd from this angle and quickly gave up, his mind idly realizing that the respected man was wearing a new bed robe.

His hands crept low, fingertips brushing against the sac that hung beneath the main attraction, stroking it, elicting another sharp inhale, legs twitching inward for a moment. Then, after letting out a breath, Ryou's tongue slid out, the off-red muscle running along the taut skin before once more hiding it inside of his mouth. From there, he began to suck again, tongue sliding over the slit at the tip of the penis, tasting a rather fowl, bitter cream, one that was more intense than was typical. He fought back the natural reaction of retching as he took the sensitive flesh far enough in so that it brushed the back of his throat, unable to stop an involuntary swallow that was attempting to force the lump in his throat down. It only caused the muscles to contract, tightening, earning him more non-verbal praise to keep on. Gaining confidence as he often did with time, the servant swallowed again, before retreating slightly, taking in air before continuing his ministrations. His master was quite enjoying this, egging Ryou on. As the slave grew bolder, his actions became more intense, as did the reactions he received. Soon he had his master panting, arms and legs trembling with lust, with need, and Ryou hardly had time to draw back before he was hit with a sudden spray, some landing inside of his mouth, while part covered his cheek, the rest having landed either on his simple garb or onto the floor. This had caused the pale boy to gasp, jerking back. Of course he was used to it, but that did not stop him from being startled. The taste, however, made him to cough. It was terrible! Usually his master had the flavor of harshly sour oats, but tonight, he could taste almost none of the latter. As he let go to use his hands to wipe the vile substance from his face, he heard an abrupt noise, as if someone else was in the house. All other servants were in their chambers, and were not permitted to wander at night, while he and his master were here...

There was a faint light that was quickly growing brighter coming from the hallway, which shone into the room. Lifting his eyes, Ryou felt his heart jolt as he finally was able to make out what had formerly been just a shadowed figure – a head of hair as bleached as his own, a pair of wide, pale eyes staring back down at him, seeming just as surprised as the slave was. It was nearly an afterthought as he noted the rugged, scarred face as well, and a silken coat as red as blood. The foreigner could do nothing but remain frozen in place before he was roughly pushed out of the way, the stranger quickly adjusting his clothes before gripping an animal-skin sack which looked to be packed with quite a large load and leaving the room so quickly (by crawling through the window, no less!), Ryou was almost sure that he might have just imagined the entire scenario. Had... what had...

It was then that another man who was holding an oil lamp appeared in the doorway, one whose voice the servant knew all too well.

"Where are my sacred statues?!" his true master bellowed, his expression causing a jolt of absolute fear to race down the boy's back, similar tremors shuddering throughout his body. The master's statues were of the gods – rare and highly valuable gifts made of jewel and glass with gold lining... they were irreplaceable. They had been created by only the finest of craftsmen and...

Ryou felt bile rise to his throat, ready to come up further at the thought of what this man would do to him to make up for them being stolen. But he dared not speak, for what would he say? ‘Forgive me Master, but I pleasured the thief who I believe to be you'? He would be stoned to death for that! "I only just saw a man make off with a full bag, Master," he said, his head bowed and his face hidden in submission.

With a growl of rage, the lord of the household brought his foot up, barely missing Ryou's face, instead roughly striking the slave's shoulder, an awkward sound coming from it as the pale boy gave a quick whine of pain before silencing himself by gritting his teeth.

"OUT OF MY SIGHT!" the attacker roared, and Ryou wasted no time in scrambling to his feet, scuttling from the room before he received any more damage, his right hand holding his injured shoulder, his left arm hanging limp at his side.

Once he was safely inside of the slave quarters, the only sounds aside from the master's anger being the other servants' breathing, a few shifting and beginning to wake at the ruckus. Ryou's face was so hot, he felt as if he were lying without protection in the midday sun, and he knew he must have been as red as that thief's coat... The thought of him, though, caused the foreigner to feel something he hadn't been able to in what seemed to be years now.

Shame.

What was worse? He couldn't seem to get the taste from his mouth no matter how many times he swallowed.

e n d

---

I wrote this with the intention of making a sequel/possibly more than just a sequel, but as I go through and edit it, I'm not sure. I don't particularly like the way I wrote this, but I was trying to hide Bakura's identity somewhat until the end? The sequel would involve him coming back to "thank Ryou properly" for the good time. Ahahaha, pointless sex with hardly an undertone of plot.

Anyway, I'm babbling. And so, Meepa out.