Nobody's Fault But Mine

Author’s Note: I am abysmal at coming up with creative titles. I was listening to Led Zeppelin at the time, and it just kind of works out, even if it’s a little silly. But as always, reviews make me happy, so please do.

“Nobody’s Fault But Mine”

Jou tramped down the sidewalk, the collar of his jacket up and his head down against the wind. He stopped in front of the three steps that led to an old fashioned looking wooden door. The light from the nearby street lamp cast a bright circle where Jou was standing, leaving the door in a dim shadow. He stared at the door looming before him for a long time, telling himself to just keep walking. It was only a door; it held no power over him. True as that may be, he couldn’t pull away. Finally with a sigh of defeat, Jou trudged up the stairs.

He slipped through the unlocked door into the dark apartment that smelled like stale cigarettes and cheap vodka, a smell that Jou always associated with despair. There were no lights, but then, there never were. He paused once inside; searching the darkness for the person he knew was there, yet dreading to find him.

His eyes were still adjusting to the dark, just barely beginning to make out the lumpy shape of a sofa in front of him.

“Oh, Jou,” said a malicious voice, slithering out of the darkness like a venomous snake waiting to bite him. “You just can’t stay away can you?” A flare lit up in a corner of the dark room, the flame from a lighter that revealed a glimpse of cruel eyes. The tiny light was destroyed as quickly as it had appeared, leaving the faintly glowing embers of a cigarette floating in the darkness.

A quiet, mirthless laugh filtered through the room, causing Jou to shiver.

“Only I can make you feel...” a cold voice whispered in his ear. “alive.” Jou whirled around to face the ominous voice behind him, but was slammed into a wall before he had a chance, the white haired fiend looming in front of him. Jou would never get used to how fast he could move.

Bakura pressed his naked torso against Jou’s, pinning him to the wall. Jou struggled, trying to get away in a moment of panic. “Why do you always struggle?” Bakura asked lazily, flicking the tip of his tongue across Jou’s cheek. “You know you want it. You always come of your own free will, so why do you act like you don’t want it?” Jou could hear the sadism in his captor’s voice, “Like you don’t need it.”

All Jou could manage was a whimper as Bakura’s lips descended on his, forcing his mouth open cruelly and raping it with his tongue. He tasted of ash and old alcohol and the taste overwhelmed him, like always, making him choke.

Bakura ignored the other boy’s struggled and continued pillaging his mouth. Finally, he released him, and Jou was left gasping for breath, but only stale air met his burning lungs. Bakura stepped back, smirking at him. That knowing smirk that Jou hated. It said all the things that Jou couldn’t bring himself to.

Bakura, with one last grin at the blonde boy, sauntered into the bedroom, swaying his leather clad hips seductively at Jou as he went.

Jou watched him go. He should just leave now. Forget about the ethereal figure melting into the shadows and go home and forget about the way he made him feel.

But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. It was like an addiction. He couldn’t stop himself from coming to the apartment every week and he couldn’t stop himself from following Bakura into the dark bedroom where his release awaited.

Jou didn’t even realize he was moving forward until he entered the bedroom. There was light in this room. A floor lamp by the bed covered with some sort of material to give the room a sinister glow. The yami didn’t like the light, but he liked to admire his own handiwork, Jou thought bitterly.

Bakura appeared next to him, whispering in his ear. “Having second thoughts, love?” he purred, twining a finger in Jou’s hair.

“You can always just turn and walk back out that door. No one’s stopping you. All you have to do is walk away, and I will never bother you again.” Jou hated Bakura for always giving him a chance at escape, and he hated himself even more for always refusing it.

“No,” Jou said, finally speaking, his voice feeling dry and foreign. “I want it.”

Bakura grinned sadistically. “I know.” He kissed Jou again, gentler this time, but still emotionless and demanding. Bakura’s hands roamed under his shirt, scratching softly against his skin. Jou moaned into the kiss, anticipating what was to come, able to do nothing but stand there and wait. Bakura grinned at him and pulled him to the bed, his hands around his hips. He pushed Jou down, straddling the other boy’s legs and pulled his shirt off. He placed a hand in the center of Jou’s bare chest and pushed him down until he was laying flat on the bed.

Jou didn’t resist as Bakura lifted his hands above his head and snapped a pair of handcuffs around his wrists, securing them to the headboard. They weren’t really necessary because Jou never tried to escape, but he knew Bakura liked the feeling of power he got out of them.

Bakura got up and turned the lamp head so that the light fell over Jou’s limp body.

“So beautiful,” Bakura whispered, kneeling beside Jou once more and running his fingers over the old and new scars that crisscrossed the blonde’s chest and stomach. Jou turned his head away from the light in shame, shivering under Bakura’s touch.

Bakura’s fingers gripped his chin cruelly, turning his face back to the light, “Ashamed, are we?” He snickered quietly, the sound making Jou shiver. “You should be. You’re pathetic.” Jou’s breath hitched as tears threatened to fall.

Jou whimpered again, trying to pull out of Bakura’s grasp, tears silently slipping down his cheeks. Bakura straddled his waist, grinding into him slightly before he bent down to kiss Jou. It was sweet and full of passion, making what was coming next hurt even more. Bakura’s fingers brushed Jou’s cheek, gently wiping away the stray tears.

Jou calmed under his touch; his breathing evened out and his tears stopped. Every nerve in his body was awake and tingling, reveling in the soft touches but pleading for the pain.

Bakura pulled back. He stared down at Jou, almost pityingly, before pulling something out of his pocket.

The light flickered over the silver blade, catching Jou’s eye. Bakura ran his tongue up the flat side of the knife, grinning maliciously. The faded light from the lamp made Bakura’s eyes glow, like a cat’s in the dark.

Jou couldn’t take his eyes off of the blade, following the gleaming reflections as Bakura played with it, taunting him.

“Please,” Jou moaned, grinding his hips up against the yami’s, pleading. Bakura grinned down at him, gripping one of Jou’s arms to still him.

“Please what, pet?”

Jou begged him silently, his need evident in his eyes.

“I want you to say it, you cur,” Bakura whispered viciously, his nails biting into Jou’s arm as his grip tightened. “I want you to beg for it.”

Jou hated himself as the words left his mouth. “Please, Bakura. Please...I need it. I need you...” his words drown out in a moan as the edge of the knife rested against the left side of Jou’s flat stomach in one of the few unmarked spots on his torso.

Bakura looked at him expectantly. Jou released his last shred of dignity and complied.

“Cut me,” he demanded, his voice cold and emotionless.

Bakura grinned insanely and pressed the blade of the knife into Jou’s side, slicing into his skin and sliding it down to leave a long thin red line.

Jou moaned and thrust his back up into the blade. Bakura watched the blood well up and spill over the wound hungrily. Then his eyes met Jou’s again, as he brought the blade to his lips, making a show of licking the knife clean in one swipe of his tongue.

The grip on Jou’s arm tightened, and he could feel his skin break under Bakura’s nails, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was the wonderful sensation rushing through him as his blood began to spill out of the wound on his stomach.

Bakura released his arm and bent down, lapping at the blood dripping down Jou’s side. The blonde boy shuddered beneath him.

The blade pressed into the flesh just below his left shoulder. The tip punctured the skin before Bakura dragged it downward, leaving a long ragged line across Jou’s chest.

Before Jou could even recover from the last cut, the knife sank in again, a little deeper this time, on Jou’s other side.

Jou’s breathing got heavier and he felt himself growing impossible hard. Bakura noticed this as he started the fourth cut, a horizontal line under his navel. The thief ground his hips into Jou’s erection, eliciting a moan that was almost a scream from Jou’s lips.

That didn’t quite satisfy Bakura. He dug the tip of the knife into the flesh at the center of Jou’s tender stomach, twisting it. Jou gasped, pushing into the knife, but Bakura pulled it away.

“Can’t have you bleeding to death now can we?” Bakura whispered as he lunged forward and sunk his teeth into the flesh where Jou’s neck and shoulder met.

This time Jou did scream as Bakura’s teeth sank into him, tearing viciously like an angry dog with a particularly tasty bit of meat.

Bakura released him and sat back up. Blood was smeared across his face, looking dark and shiny in the stunted light. Pain throbbed from Jou’s shoulder, from his chest, from his stomach, all over. He closed his eyes and reveled in it, drinking in the sensation. His whole body burned and tingled in that wonderfully terrifying feeling Jou couldn’t get enough of.

He was so wrapped up in his own bitter pleasure that Jou hardly noticed Bakura had taken off both their pants until he felt the cold tip of the knife trail threateningly down his erection, which twitched dangerously. A sadistic grin spread across Bakura’s face as Jou held his breath. The knife left his member to move to his inner thigh, trailing lightly before sinking in to cut a thin tear down each side.

Bakura licked up the inside cut of Jou’s right thigh, causing the other boy to squirm as he delved his tongue between the separated skin. Bakura laid the flat side of the knife between Jou’s legs, pressing up brutally so that he crushed the other boy, the sides of the blade cutting into his thighs. Jou cried out in genuine pain, trying to twist away without castrating himself.

“Do you want me to fuck you with it?” Bakura asked. “Cut you from the inside?”

Tears were spilling down Jou’s face once more. Would Bakura really do it? One glance at the white haired yami atop of him told him he would. Only if Jou asked him to.

Jou’s eyes widened in shock as he realized he was considering it. He would probably bleed to death for certain. But the thought almost appealed to him. Why not end it that way? No Jou told himself firmly. That’s why he was here, to make his life tolerable, not to end it.

Jou shook his head and felt the knife being pulled away, but not before a flick of Bakura’s wrist sunk it rather deep into his thigh. The sting of it radiated through Jou’s body and he writhed with the pleasure of it.

“Disgusting little slut,” Bakura spat at him, his eyes glowing lustily in the darkness.

Suddenly, Jou’s injured leg was hoisted over Bakura’s shoulder and the yami entered him with one unbelievably painful thrust.

A moan escaped Bakura’s throat as he found himself buried to the hilt in Jou’s tight entrance. There was no lubrication, so it was difficult to pull out again, but Bakura managed, before throwing his body into Jou’s to drive himself back in.

Jou screamed. A beautifully agonizing scream. Bakura growled and continued to pound into the other boy, his movements becoming more fluid as blood began to ease his thrusts.

Jou cried out every time Bakura thrust into him. He was bleeding down there; he could feel it lubricating Bakura’s thrusts. And all his cuts, which had begun to clot, where torn open again from the vicious motion. Jou gazed down at himself as ruby droplets welled up in the lines across his body and spilled over like crimson tears to stain the sheets below him. The cuts on his thighs were smearing bright blood all over Bakura’s pale skin in stark contrast, making the thief look even more psychotic than usual.

Jou threw his head back into the pillow; his eyes clenched shut as a burst of pleasure coursed through him when Bakura hit his sweet spot, before being drown out again by the onslaught of pain.

This was the part Jou came here for every week. For the brief flashes of euphoria surrounded in a sea of pain and confusion, just like his life.

Jou’s screams got louder and louder the closer he came to release. When the lines between pleasure and pain blurred so effectively that Jou was riding on waves of pure sensation, he finally came long and hard, trails of white seed mixing with the tacky blood covering his stomach and chest.

Bakura continued to pound into Jou as his body went limp, finally reaching his orgasm in a blinding flash as he emptied himself into Jou’s ruined body.

Bakura rolled off him and grabbed a dirty shirt from the floor, cleaning himself off. He pulled on the pants he had discarded earlier and walked out of the room, leaving Jou to catch his breath and bleed sluggishly on the bed.

He walked into the kitchen and flicked on the lights, wincing at the brightness, and picked up the phone.

“Hello?” Ryou’s voice said from the other side, sounding distant and far away as if hed just woken up.

“It’s me,” Bakura said shortly. “The dog’s gone and hurt himself again; can you come clean him up?”

He heard Ryou sigh on the other end and after a long pause, “Yeah, I’ll be there in five minutes.” The phone clicked as Ryou hung up.

XxXxXxX

Bakura stood in the corner, lighting up a cigarette and squinting in the light his hikari had insisted on turning on.

Jou sat on the bed. Or rather gingerly leaned on one side, as Ryou bandaged the worst of the cuts on his inner thigh.

No one said anything as Ryou did his work, looking very angry. Bakura puffed on his cigarette in the corner, watching and snickering softly when Jou winced.

Ryou shot him a glare, but Bakura only grinned at him.

“Do you think you could take those sheets with you and wash them?” Bakura asked, flicking the ash from his cigarette on the floor.

“No, I can’t,” Ryou said hotly. “Why do you always have to hurt him and then call me to clean up the mess? Can’t you control your sadistic urges?” Ryou sneered at his yami. “This is all your fault anyway.”

Jou shook his head, noticing the beginning of an old argument. “No,” he said softly, not daring to meet Ryou’s demanding gaze. “It’s nobody’s fault but mine.”