Punishment

Author’s Note: I’ve just got into Yu-Gi-Oh and this is my first fanfic, so I hope you enjoy and reviews are love.

Punishment

Ryou was sitting in the corner of his room, reading a book he had just gotten from the library. He was only two chapters in when he heard the door downstairs slam, signaling Bakura’s return. He heard someone staggering around downstairs and a loud crash that sounded as if Bakura had run into the table in the hallway. A string of slurred curses filtered up the stairs to Ryou’s ears.

Ryou closed his book quietly, not even bothering to mark his place. Whenever Bakura went out drinking with Marik, one of two things happened, both ending in sex. One, Bakura would come home in a wonderfully giddy mood. He’d tell Ryou how much he loved him and would be gentle, for once, and they’d make love. Two, Bakura would come home angry and raging. He’d drag Ryou out and fuck him hard until he was bruised and bleeding. Ryou had the nasty feeling it was not going to be the first option as he heard Bakura call out his name in a drunken slur.

“Ryou, where are you?” Bakura bellowed to the empty house. He could hear him stumbling up the stairs and shrunk farther into his corner, wishing Bakura would just pass out and forget whatever he was angry about in the morning.

“Come out, come out Ryou!” he called again. “I’ve had a lovely talk with Marik, and you’ll never believe some of the things Malik told him!”

At the last word, the door to Ryou’s room flew open and smacked the wall, making Ryou jump. Bakura stood framed in the doorway, light pouring in behind him from the hallway, wild eyes scanning the room and falling on Ryou in the dark corner.

“You wouldn’t be trying to hide from me, now, would you?” Bakura spat at him, stumbling into the room. “You don’t hide from Malik.” The last coming out in a growl.

Ryou’s eyes widened, “Bakura, I didn’t--”

Ryou was cut off as Bakura wound his fingers in his soft hair and yanked him out of the corner. Bakura’s fingers twisting painfully, he pulled Ryou’s face close to his.

“You know I don’t like it when you are with other people,” he growled menacingly, shaking the boy for extra emphasis.

Ryou could feel tears stinging his eyes. “I’m sorry, I just...” he trailed off, pleading. Wanted to be with someone who didn’t hurt me, he finished his thought in his mind, but didn’t dare say it out loud.

“Don’t worry,” Bakura said, very matter-of-factly. “We’re going to fix this.”

Ryou opened his mouth to question what he meant by ‘fix’ it, but all that escaped was a strangled cry as Bakura yanked him forward by his hair, dragging him out of the room.

Ryou tried to find his footing, but Bakura had his head wrenched at an odd angle, and he couldn’t quite manage to get his feet underneath him.

Ryou finally gave up and let Bakura drag him down the hall, pausing only to kick the door to his own room open and throw his hikari in. Ryou landed at the end of the bed and fell in a heap on the floor, tears streaming down his face. The last time Bakura had been this angry with him; Ryou hadn’t been able to walk for three days.

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered as Bakura advanced on him. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“This is for your own good,” Bakura said, eyes flashing dangerously, as he grasped Ryou’s arm and pulled him onto the bed.

Ryou kicked out and tried fighting Bakura off, but all that got him was a sound slap across the face and his hands being hoisted above his head and fastened to the bed posts. He tried to pull free, heat radiating painfully off the place where Bakura had hit him, but the cold metal of the cuffs only bit in to his skin, not yielding in the slightest.

Ryou pulled his legs in close, trying to make himself as small as possible, but Bakura only grabbed hold of his ankles, tearing them away from his body so that he lay flat on the bed and straddled his waist.

Ryou turned his face away from his mad yami, hiding it against his arm.

“Shh...” Bakua cooed, “Don’t be like that now.” He reached out a hand and stroked Ryou’s hair away from his face and gently turned it up to stare into his. Ryou struggled trying to escape his touch, but Bakura simply bent down and pressed a soft kiss to Ryou’s lips, using his thumb to wipe away his tears.

“It’s okay,” Bakura whispered, pressing his cheek against Ryou’s. “It’s okay.”

Ryou began to quiet under Bakura’s touch and reassuring words, surprised at his sudden tenderness.

“See Kitten,” Bakura said softly, rubbing his thumb across Ryou’s lips. “Isn’t this better?”

Ryou nodded, eyes still shining with tears.

“Good boy,” Bakura told him, licking a long wet line up the side of Ryou’s face.

Ryou jerked away instinctively, but this time Bakura just laughed. “It’s all for your own good, Kitten.” Bakura said, running his fingers along the collar of Ryou’s striped shirt. He hooked one thumb underneath it and jerked down, tearing it.

Ryou yelped in surprise as cold air met his bare chest. Bakura tore the rest of his shirt away and gazed down on his helpless hiraki.

Ryou started to cry again. “Bakura,” he pleaded. Bakura didn’t respond, but ground his hips into Ryou’s, rotating them in a circular motion, slow and sensuous, grinning manically down at him.

“You know you deserve this,” Bakura told him, trailing a hand down Ryou’s stomach. He glanced at the bound boy, as if waiting for a retort. When he got none, Bakura wiggled off of Ryou and stripped him of the rest of his clothes. He removed his own as well before mounting him again.

Bakura kissed him forcefully, demanding entrance to his mouth, and raked his nails savagely down his hikari’s pale chest, leaving crimson trails behind. Ryou struggled beneath him, crying out in hurt and surprise as he felt Bakura’s nails tear his skin. Bakura didn’t hesitate in his kiss, but snaked his hand down between Ryou’s legs and squeezed lightly. Ryou gasped into his yami’s mouth in pain that peaked into pleasure as Bakura released him, then began to massage him and wank the other boy off.

Ryou pushed his hips into his hand as Bakura’s mouth wandered down his neck, biting just a little too forcefully. A strangled cry escaped Ryou’s lips as Bakura ran his thumb over the hikari’s leaking head, simultaneously biting into the soft spot where Ryou’s neck met his shoulder.

Bakura worked him harder, eliciting delightful noises from Ryou who screwed his eyes shut and bucked shamelessly into his hand, trying in vain to refuse the forced pleasure and failing miserably.

Ryou felt the pressure building, knowing he was so close to release when Bakura withdrew his hand. His eyes flew open to meet Bakura’s grin. The yami leaned close to Ryou’s ear and whispered, “Does Malik make you sound like that, Kitten? Do you moan like that for him?”

He flicked his tongue over the curve of Ryou’s ear before he had a chance to answer. Then he kissed the curve of his face, working his way down his neck in soothing kisses, licking away the blood from his earlier bites. Ryou shifted under him uncomfortably, confused once again by Bakura’s feigned kindness.

Ryou was breathing heavily, but felt the pressure beginning to fade, only a little disappointedly. When Bakura pulled away, Ryou realized he had been released from the handcuffs.

Ryou propped himself up on his elbows, glancing questioningly at Bakura who was once again straddling him. He rubbed himself against Ryou’s dying erection, ever so slightly.

Without a word, Bakura reached over the boy to open the drawer on the bedside table and dropped something on Ryou’s stomach before dismounting him. A greasy jar of lubricant tumbled off onto the bed. Ryou looked at it skeptically, and then glanced at Bakura.

His yami sat back on his knees as if he was going to watch something extremely delightful and said to Ryou, “Prepare yourself.”

Ryou’s cheeks colored. “You want me to...” Ryou gestured unsure at the jar lying on the bed. “In front of you?”

“Yes,” Bakura said silkily, “like the little whore you are.” Ryou had begun to reach for the jar, but stopped at those words and glanced at Bakura, anger flashing in his eyes.

“I’m not going to degrade myself for your amusement,” Ryou said angrily.

Bakura shrugged, “If you don’t want to, don’t do it.” He smiled wickedly, “But I’m going to fuck you either way. Your choice, Kitten.”

Ryou glanced up at his yami, “Please Bakura. I’ll never see Malik again, I’m sorry,” he pleaded. Bakura only shrugged again, as if to say, ‘it’s up to you,’ then picked up the jar and held it out to the boy.

Ryou stared at it. For all the abuse and rape, it was always Bakura taking him, hurting him, while he lay impassive. Bakura had never made him do something so...degrading before. Never given him a choice.

“Come on,” Bakura said, sidling up to him and wrapping an arm around the boy so he could press his lips to his ear. “Show me who you really belong to,” he whispered, kissing his neck. Ryou took the jar.

He could feel Bakura smiling against his skin before he drew back to watch. Ryou unscrewed the jar and stared hesitantly at the contents. He glanced at Bakura, as if looking for some last thing telling him this was all a joke. All that met him was a predatory smile that seemed to say, “I’m tired of debasing you. I want you to do it yourself now.”

Ryou dug his fingers into the cold gel and sat the jar on the nightstand. He lay back and spread his legs, ever so slightly. He felt tears of shame welling up again.

“Do it, Ryou!” Bakura’s voice demanded, drifted through his mind. Ryou took a deep breath and timidly pressed his finger against his opening. His muscles resisted for a moment, and then he slid in. He cringed at the cold greasiness of it as he worked his finger in and out, refusing to meet Bakura’s eyes.

He inserted a second finger and scissored back and forth, slowly stretching himself, his face burning in embarrassment. He felt Bakura shift his weight and hot fingers grasped his chin, wrenching his face up to meet Bakura’s.

Ryou was momentarily shocked by the sudden contact that he stopped in his ministrations. “Keep at it!” Bakura’s cold voice flashed through his mind, and his fingers hurriedly went back to stretching himself. He noticed Bakura had begun to stroke his own erection, slow and languid. He carried on for a few seconds before turning his full attention once more to Ryou.

“Tell me what a dirty little slut you are,” Bakura demanded, still griping Ryou’s face tightly with one hand.

Tears streamed down Ryou’s face, but Bakura wouldn’t let him look away.

“I’m a dirty little slut,” Ryou whispered.

“Yes,” Bakura whispered in reply, letting go of Ryou’s chin and burying his fingers in his thick hair. He leaned close to Ryou, lips almost touching his.

“And who’s dirty little slut are you?” he asked quietly.

Bakura could feel Ryou swallow, and barely heard him utter, “Yours.”

Bakura smiled, rubbing his cheek against Ryou’s, smearing his tears.

“That’s right, Kitten.” He kissed Ryou deeply. Soft fingers ran down Ryou’s arm and pulled his fingers away, taking them in his mouth and gently sucking the lubricant off.

Bakura could feel Ryou trembling against him as he shook from his sobs.

“I’m sorry, Bakura,” Ryou whispered. There was a pause as Bakura released his fingers and said simply, “I know.”

Suddenly, Ryou was flipped over, his face shoved into the pillow which muffled his scream as Bakura sheathed himself fully in one cruel thrust. He gave Ryou only seconds to adjust before pulling slowly out, only to thrust back in just as viciously as before.

Bakura pounded into him relentlessly, the work Ryou had done earlier making it just short of tolerable. Bakura’s strong hands pinned Ryou’s above his head, and his chest slid smoothly against Ryou’s back as he thrust into him violently.

Bakura’s frenzied thrusting drove Ryou into the mattress and rubbed his erection against the rough fabric of the sheets, causing him to cry out with every thrust. Bakura shifted his angle slightly and drove in once more, hitting Ryou’s prostate. Ryou screamed. The sounds seemed to encourage Bakura who only drove into him harder and faster, making growling noises of his own.

Despite the pain coursing through him, Ryou felt the orgasm build and wash over him as he shuddered underneath Bakura, coming in hot sticky streams against his stomach.

Bakura came minutes later, releasing inside of him. The salty seed burned Ryou’s tattered entrance as Bakura pulled out of him and flopped on his back next to his panting hikari.

When Bakura’s breathing had finally returned to normal, he glanced over at his lover. Ryou laid still, eyes closed. The scratches he has made down Ryou’s pale chest and abdomen had turned into angry red welts, and the bite marks that were scattered across Ryou’s neck and shoulders were caked with dried bits of blood. As he sat up, Bakura also noticed the sheets underneath Ryou were smeared in red, and red splotched stained his white thighs.

He gathered Ryou up in his arms, pulling him close. He kissed him gently and stroked that lovely hair.

“It’s okay,” he whispered soothingly. “It’s okay.” He wiped Ryou’s tears away once again, kissing one closed eyelid, then the other.

“Are you alright?” Bakura asked, concerned. Ryou nodded sadly into Bakura’s shoulder, knowing the yami would probably remember nothing of this in the morning.