Kick Off Your Stilettos

Pairing: Yami no Malik x Yami no Bakura (Mariku x Bakura)

Notes: Uhhh. Randomly wrote this a while ago, because the scene amused me. :B I might or not write the whole thing out from the beginning, but that’s doubtful. O: I just… haven’t posted anything for so long! I also totally forgot this was sitting in my writing folder, collecting dust. ;; Whoops.

And yes, I did swipe the title from that one song. Which is ironic, as I don't even like that song. xD What's it called? Fer Sure or something?

.: Kick Off Your Stilettos :.

The drive home, for the most part, was boring, and Bakura had started to nod off, not really because of the previously mentioned state but from the fact that he had not been getting an adequate amount of sleep, especially lately. Since it was about a twenty minute straight route until Mariku needed to turn, the blonde let the other drift into a light sleep, though he did call out for his client to wake up when they neared.

“Hey,” he snapped, noting how Bakura jerked a bit and glanced around. “When do I turn?”

The pale singer seemed groggy, and having a small amount of relief from his insomnia was actually worse (or it felt to be) than getting none at all. “The next light -- not this one,” he added, pointing (though Mariku didn’t need it and found the motion useless and idiotic). The action was carried out without further conversation, save for Bakura throwing in the rest of the directions.

Once they pulled up to Bakura’s dingy apartment (despite what Bakura had said about it not being “that bad”, it was far from being the good side of town), the said male paused, hesitant to leave Mariku’s car. Damnit, it was cold outside, and his heat had been turned off for his lack of paying the bill. He also had absolutely nothing to come home to, unless he counted his overused and musty bed and perhaps one or two more uses worth of coke to be anything at all. He wanted to save those for when he knew for sure he had nothing scheduled, though.

It was funny how quickly his first paycheck had been spent.

But he couldn’t very well stay in the car -- Mariku would grow aggravated and he had no reason to keep Bakura there. Perhaps he should have accepted the other’s offer to mess around... at least then he would be ensured that he would have a warm place for at least a little while longer. But he had declined and he strongly doubted that his manager would be willing to forgive that.

With a heavy sigh, one that was exaggerated, he lifted his hand to grasp the handle on the door, and began to pull when he gasped, yanking his hand back rather abruptly, staring down at the small welt that was an angry red on one of his fingers. He hadn’t been paying much attention to what he was doing at all, his mind instead caught up in what he could be doing instead of getting booted out of the vehicle. And clearly that wasn’t a very good move as his ring-finger had gotten caught and pinched in the process.

It was true that he liked pain... But it was a different kind to get injured by accident like that; less pleasurable and more annoying. Lifting the digit to his mouth, he sucked on it, trying to ease the sting. While he did so, he refused to move, instead gaining an almost pout-like expression. It would have normally done nothing but pissed Mariku off, but frankly... it was, in an odd way, attractive.

Reaching over, the Egyptian wrapped his hand around Bakura’s wrist, pulling the injured finger from the singer’s mouth and placing it in his own, ignoring that it was wet with the other’s saliva. And then he sucked, tasting the saltiness of the flesh, and the mild tang of a drop of blood. It was addicting, and he rolled his tongue over the cut, causing the shocked Bakura to groan.

He hadn’t gotten laid in over a week, and as he had only recently changed his profession, this was... strange. And with the way Mariku was sucking on his finger... it felt so suggestive....

“Bite it,” he said, more out of habit than his want for it. Of course, he did want it. A lot. Mariku, however, only pulled away and laughed.

“Bite it?” he repeated, his dull eyes gazing at the other man. “You had your chance and you blew it. Get out of my car.”

It wasn’t as though he’d never been turned down before. Oh, he had. He had always just ignored the “no”, but he couldn’t in this case. Bakura was someone working for him, and he could very well sue -- and with the man being money-hungry as he was, Mariku didn’t doubt that he would go for every penny he could get. That and he held an anger that he wasn’t used to feeling in this instance. Bakura shouldn’t have the right to turn him down. He was willing to fuck someone for a quick high, yet he wouldn’t drop his pants for Mariku? He shouldn’t be able to say no.

The slighter male’s face had confusion wash over it for a moment but then he pulled himself together, and smirked. “I offered and you turned me down, calling me a ‘dirty little porn star’. So I quit fucking people and now you’re pissy about it?” he asked and shook his head, reaching out again to open the door, also ignoring how his finger was slick. Then, with a final glance at his manager, he added, his grin still in place, “Besides, taking a chunk out of someone isn’t sex.”

With that said, he’d intended to leave, but Mariku’s hand shot out and grabbed the collar of his new shirt, yanking him back in and causing him to lose his balance, landing awkwardly in the passenger’s seat. “Taking a chunk out of?” Mariku purred, his eyes having filled with a sort of shine that wasn’t usually in them. Perhaps it was a strong interest that was mingled in there, that was the root of it, but regardless, he seemed much more apt to the idea. “Shut the door and give me your hand.”

Bakura stared for a few seconds, his mind reeling. This was a morbid game of pingpong, one that didn’t seem as though it were going to end any time soon; not until one of them gave in. Mariku was a strong man, and he was manipulative as well -- how long could Bakura really last against that? But he’d said no, and he intended to stick to that if the other was going to continue to taunt him, to hold what he wanted within reach and then jerk it back only to repeat the action. This frustration wasn’t worth it.

But... if he pulled his hand away and got back out of the car, then he would lose what might very well be his only chance of being with someone who could fulfill his sick kinks. Sure, others had gone along with it, but none with the silently dangerous aura that Mariku exuded. Because of it, Bakura knew that the other wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t be worried to cut too deep.... He knew what he was doing. Somehow, that much was obvious.

Though he was hesitant, Bakura shut the door, closing himself into a situation that he was unsure of. Where would it go and how far?

Wasting little time, the Egyptian took Bakura’s hand again and sunk his teeth into the flesh around the fresh wound, reopening it (as it had clotted from his previous sucking) and savoring the taste. That in itself wasn’t much of anything, and he didn’t expect Bakura to give a strong reaction. The other did, though, as he sighed and let his head fall back, his brows knitted at the sensation of pain. It wasn’t a lot, he had to agree, but he wanted more. He didn’t have to voice this thought as Mariku let his mouth wander, teeth grazing along the expanse of skin on his hand, and moved to the singer’s collarbone, pausing for a moment. “Take your shirt off,” he said, leaving no room for argument or furthering the topic.

As Bakura moved to fulfill the request, the blonde reached back and turned the keys enough to shut off the car but keep the basic power running. After all, he would be cold even with the se--no. That wasn’t going to go that far. Mariku was intent on making the bastard regret turning him down, for playing hard to get.

With his obstacle out of the way, he tipped his head down and bit into the spot he had been aiming for previously. Of course, he couldn’t really do too much damage as he was basically selling his client’s body as well as his voice, but... he could at least make the guy writhe.

“A-ah,” Bakura uttered, his head falling back once more into place against the window. Their position was awkward, with Mariku leaning over the median between their seats to get to the other, but he was hardly complaining.

Intertwining their fingers, Mariku found something that he had realized but not to this extent: Bakura was thin. Bony, even, and he was willing to bet that drugs had quite a bit to do with it. And because of this, it felt almost as if he were actually tasting bone. It was a rather large turn-on, and Mariku hoped that Bakura wouldn’t gain any weight. His teeth clamped down harder, and tore at the skin, leaving a nice set of imprints, but he didn’t care about how it looked. The other tasted good -- too good. And it was almost unnerving, especially as it was getting harder to stop himself as his mouth traveled up Bakura’s neck and to his jawline.

The paler of the two was certainly enjoying it all, though, and had no qualms about trying to be quiet. There was a part of him that refused to be left out of the participation, and the moment Mariku’s other arm brushed against it, he used his free hand to grip Bakura’s arousal through his pants. With a cruel smirk on his lips, he spoke against the other’s ear, making sure his words were cold. “It’s a pity we can’t have sex, isn’t it?”

The singer didn’t particularly seem to care, as his hips bucked up into the contact whether he wanted them to or not. He was fucking horny, and this man who was practically on top of him.... He turned his head, smashing his lips against Mariku’s, though the blonde pulled back and yanked their hands apart, using his to set against Bakura’s mouth, intent on shoving the man away. That plan fell to ruins when one of his fingers pressed against the other’s lip ring, and he slowly let it fall, leaning down to continue to the kiss, ignoring Bakura’s obvious confusion. Using his tongue, he paid more attention than he meant to on the ring, playing with it before sucking.

Trying to get over how impossible to follow Mariku was, Bakura kissed back, or attempted to, as he thrust up his hips again, wishing the blonde would humor him and at least jack him off.

The manager was starting to find himself turned on as well, and he paused in his ministrations, pulling back just enough to ask, “Still willing to turn down my offer?” he purred, watching Bakura shudder.

“No,” the other murmured, feeling only a sliver of resentment for his words. He could hate himself for being so easily turned later, but right now....

“Get in the back and take off your pants,” Mariku ordered, knowing that they could only fit back one at a time and he wasn’t going to go first.

As demeaning as it was, Bakura got up and slipped past the front seats, finding himself in the back, half-sprawled out. His shirt was already off, and all that remained on him was his slacks and boots. Of course, he didn’t intend to get undressed more than he had to, as he hated having to put everything back on afterwards, and as Mariku climbed after him, he undid the button and zipper of the pants, pulling them down to his knees. It was then made obvious that he didn’t wear anything underneath, though it wasn’t for preference, no, he just had little idea of where any of his underwear was. He hadn’t worn any in what must have been a year -- there had been no point.

The Egyptian, however, did know where his were, but he paid them no mind as he slid both them and his dress pants down with them. He also took in mind that he didn’t want his shirt dirty, so he removed that as well.

Leaning over Bakura, he yanked the other’s pants the rest of the way off, managing to do so successfully despite the singer’s boots still being on, leaving only those on the pale-skinned, underweight body. Then he grabbed both of the man’s legs and lifted them, only letting go to spread Bakura’s cheeks and to help guide himself inside the other’s entrance.

Really, he preferred a little more bloodplay, but right now, he didn’t have the tools he would have desired, nor did he have the time -- he had to be back in time to have dinner with his fiancée. He’d promised to take her out, after all, and public image was everything. Bakura would have liked a bit more as well, but right now, he was too undersexed to care too awful much.

As Mariku forced himself into his client, Bakura gasped, the sound turning into a shaky exhale. His thin legs hiked up to wrap around his partner’s hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of the other’s expensive Porche. The feeling was uncomfortable, perhaps even a little painful, as there had been no hesitation or lubricant, but that didn’t stop Mariku from starting up the act: pulling out and thrusting back in again, giving no mind to whether or not Bakura enjoyed it.

The white-haired man shuddered again, breathing in unevenly, his brows knit tightly and his teeth clenched. It hurt, and he knew it would ease up the more this played out, but he also still wanted more. There was hardly any pleasure from it, even though Mariku had found his prostate somewhat a few times, and that only made his body crave the sensation in a sick and dark way. He wanted the pain; he needed it almost like he needed the high of a drug.

“Oh, f-fuck,” he gasped, rocking his hips with Mariku, but it was getting to the point where he wanted that pleasure as well. Arching his back, he let out a moan as his prostate was struck more forcefully, and Mariku seemed to enjoy this new position also, his hands moving to heft Bakura’s middle up and keep him there.

Bakura was all too willing to give into the kiss that the blonde delivered, and he made a pleased sound as his manager tugged on his lipring with his teeth. It grew louder as Mariku dragged the nails on one of his hands roughly down Bakura’s sides, leaving red welts in their wake.

“Harder,” the paler man growled, and the blonde seemed to punish him with a violently hard thrust (which caused Bakura to gasp) for telling him what to do, but complied regardless.

When the singer’s climax was finally reached, he stiffened; subconsciously acting out something he had learned got him paid more and clamping down his inner walls more forcefully than they would have on their own, keeping them that way even after the sensation began to fade. He felt Mariku ram into him several more times before he, too, paused, and rocked back in twice more and then stopped altogether.

The sensation of having something warm and wet remain inside of you was one thing Bakura never grew fully used to -- he wasn’t sure if it was his body or his mind telling him still that it wasn’t natural. But when Mariku pulled out of him, not bothering to try to act like he cared, Bakura groaned, feeling the sting of his abused muscles.

He didn’t want to, but he knew that he had to get dressed again and leave the car; Mariku had no reason to keep him here, now. Reaching down without looking, he snagged his pants and moved to pull them on, for the most part ignoring the aching. He chuckled a little after he’d gotten them on, as his fingers fumbled to do up the buttons. “We should not have sex more often,” he said, lips pulled upwards slightly at the sides.

Mariku, who was straightening out his shirt, having pulled it back on quickly, gave his client a look. “Hurry up and get dressed and out of my car,” he said dully. He’d already spent more time in this dingy neighborhood than he wanted to, and he would already be a little late getting home. Bakura sighed once again exasperatedly before he, too, got on his shirt.

“You’re welcome,” he added in, before the blonde ended up opening the back door and practically pushing him out.

“You’ll get a call about the next conference meeting,” Mariku informed the man before the door was slammed on him. Funny, how quickly business was brought back up. The Egyptian certainly was… different.

And only a few seconds later, the car pulled away from the curb and was gone, the singer watching it leave with an odd feeling settling over him. Wrapping his arms over his chest to keep the cold out of his unbuttoned shirt, he wondered how long this “partnership” between he and Mariku was really going to last.

He did know one thing for sure, though -- it was going to be one hell of a ride, whatever the length.

.: The End :.