Disclaimers on the characters of Yu-Gi-Oh by Kazuki Takahashi. I don't own them, so don't sue.

AN: A piece completely inspired by Geniusgirl; The Original. She's a damn fine writer and hell yes, I am so in love with her story, As I Please, even though it hasn't been updated since last year on her journal.

Desperation,

By Winterwing3000

His hands fumbled for a cigarette, and quickly drew one from the recess of his coat pocket. His hands were steady (and sweaty) as he held the lighter up to the stick between his lips. It didn't light.

"Fuck it." He flung the silver lighter (his favorite from her) to the side and pulled the cigarette from his lips. His free hand (trembling) reached up to comb back his bangs.

"What's wrong?" her (not her) voice asked. He turned around and looked at her (no, not her). She sat up, her long red (short brown) locks hanging provocatively about her glistening body, with his shirt pulled up to her chest for unnecessary decency.

"It's nothing," he said gruffly. He went over to his desk to pull out a set of matches (ignoring the photo of two smiling people in an embrace) and struck one. Cupping his hand about his cigarette, he lit it and promptly threw the burnt out match into the tray.

"Seto," she pleaded (and it didn't sound right when it wasn't coming from her), "Please, tell me. You said you were going to quit smoking."

"I said, it's nothing." He inhaled a deep breath of nicotine. It sped through his system, calming his frantic nerves and jumbled mind.

"It's not nothing! I'm getting tired of this!" the woman raged, moving off of the couch. "Every time I come see you, if it's not sex, it's you walking out!"

"Isn't this what you wanted?" He went over to grab his discarded pair of boxers and pants and slipped them on. He ignored her as she stalked over to him, green (not blue) eyes blazing with fury. He seated himself in front of the humming computer, picking up the closest documents.

"You! Who do you think I am! Some cheap whore?" she raved at him, standing at the side of his chair. Her perfume of roses (not ocean waves) penetrated his nose; a dull throb began in his head.

"Shizuka, if you're just going to scream, then leave. I have things to do." He reached for his black framed glasses when her hands slammed down on them.

"No! I refuse to let this continue! Tell me, Seto! What am I to you?" The glasses cracked, the frame gnarled. ("I love it when you wear them!")

His steel blue eyes pinned her. "Get. Out."

"Answer me!" she screeched, a tightness in her throat formed. Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

He didn't answer her (he never needed to with her). Her voice cracked. "Please, Seto."

Exhaling, he stubbed the half-eaten cigarette. "Just leave, Shizuka." His hand found its way to his face, covering it.

"I hate you! I hate you, hate you, hate you!" she sobbed ("I love you…"). "I hate you Seto! I hate you!" she tossed the broken spectacles at him. The small plastic shards left red angry welts on his skin.

He stood up abruptly, forgetting of his work and threw the broken glasses into the trash. Grabbing his wife beater and coat, he opened the door. "Leave before I return," he told her without looking back. "And don't find me again."

The door clicked as it shut.

He exited the corner store, a gaudy cheap lighter in his pocket with a sealed box of cigarettes. He drew out a pair of black frames and slipped them on, though it would make no difference. ("Everyone knows it's you with that coat of yours!") No one could possibly recognize him as the president of an international corporation in the state that he was in.

His feet pulled him in random directions, his mind undecided of a destination. He passed by parks (where they fed pigeons and ducks), arcades (where she dragged them out for their first date), restaurants (where he made reservations but they never ever made it), and clubs (where he could still feel her lush body moving against his).

Growling, he reached for another cigarette. A person bumped into him as he tried to light it. The fire burned his finger and the stick fell to the ground. "Shit," he cursed and glared at the drunken man, who had collided his shoulders against him.

He stuffed his hands into his coat, forgetting about the cigarette and continued walking (down memory lane).

He heard laugher (not bubbly or rich like hers) as a group of girls trouped passed him, arms linked. He smelled the aroma of crepes (she like it best with bananas and strawberries) when he passed by an open crepe shop.

Everything, every single little thing, why did it remind him of her? Her scent, her touch, her hair, her eyes, her laugh, they haunted him.

He should hate her. He did hate her. He hated her from the beginning and he hated her in the end. She corrupted every single fiber of his being into hating her. Her wickedness tore his safely guarded self.

Anger bubbled inside of him, boiling. His hands fisted as he turned sharply into an alley.

Thunder crashed overhead as his fists slammed into the brick wall of a building. His mind did not register the pain that pierced his hands, now numb with the skin cracked and bleeding.

He remembered the night when he took her in the middle of an empty parking lot on his car, with lightning flashing and thunder roaring above their heads and the rain drenching every inch of their heated skin. The electrifying sensations that were produced exploded between them. He could still feel her. All of her, so wet, tight, hot, panting and writhing underneath him, pressed against the door. His name ("SETO!") ripped from her throat simultaneously with the strike of lightning.

Rain poured down on him, soaking through his jacket. He gasped for air as his mind wandered to the dark niche, where she (her screams, body, eyes, lo-) was hidden.

"Fuck. Fuck, fucking hell." He pressed his head against the wall. His body craved, wanted, needed her. Only her. He ca-won't go back to her. He didn't need her. He never needed her (not like this).

His mantras repeated and echoed in his mind, fighting.

He didn't (want to) see her (chest heaving).

He didn't (want to) hear her (screaming his name).

He didn't (want to have) her (legs wrapped) around him.

Lightning blazed across the skies. He pushed off from the wall and stumbled blindly into a familiar direction.

Screw logic. He needed her.

He banged on her apartment door, leaning against it and staining it. The security refused to let him in until he nearly bashed out the fool's brains out. He'll be damned if he left without her noticing him.

The door flung open. A very pissed but wet and nearly naked her stood in front of the door. "What the hell do," she started, glaring with eyes made of blue fire, and froze. Jumping, she snapped into action and swung the door.

A crack of bones echoed in the silent hallway. "Fuck!" he hissed, cradling his discolored left hand. Painful as it was, he managed to do something right. She kept the door open, this time in shock.

"You stupid idiot!" she cried, disregarding her sparse attire and his dripping appearance, and pulled him into her apartment. She made a quick assessment of his hands, both discolored but one slightly redder than the other from the recent impact, and dashed for the first aid kit in her kitchen.

He obeyed silently as she pushed him down onto the loveseat and watched as she disinfected the cracked and blood-dried skin on his hands. The clock ticked, and he could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand from anticipation.

"An-," he said.

"I don't know if I should wrap if in bandages, so you should probably go to the hospital." She packed away the disinfectant and stood up. His head followed her. Her eyes stared down at him for a moment and turned away. "You can go now."

His arms were suddenly thrown about her, grabbing her by the middle and pulled her half into his lap. He buried his face into her towel. "Shut up and listen to me," he growled, and smirked when she shivered.

"No. You have to leave. Now," she said sternly (he heard something in her voice crackle), trying to pry his grip around her.

"Listen to me!" He yanked her, sprawling her over him entirely as he fell against the back of the loveseat. Her knees landed next to his sides, her chest pressed against his. Nose to nose, flaming navy blue eyes stared hard into the scorching sunny azure eyes.

Something (lust? lov-?) surged in his blood and he lunged forward to capture her lips. Greedily, he kissed her, a man of thirst finally drinking his fill, taking everything, anything from her. His hands clawed at her scantly clad figure, itching to tear the irritating cloth away from her body. She fought his hands, arms straining on his shoulders and pulled from his kiss. He followed her, wanting more.

"Stop it!" she snapped at him. She tried to move away, to stand up. He pulled her down onto the length of the sofa. "Stop or I'll scream!" she threatened as he attacked her throat.

"Then scream," he said, nibbling her earlobe. She gasped (and he smirked).

"What! Stop this now!" She shoved at him only to have his legs straddle her. "SETO!"

He froze, face buried in the juncture of her neck and shoulder. He could hear, feel, her panting as she grew silent from his lack of movement. He lifted his face, and stared down at her, his brown (wet) fringe slightly obscuring his view. "Say that again."

She looked at him, confused. But she pushed again. "Get off!"

"Say. It. Again," he demanded, dropping his weight upon her enough to pin her down.

"Say what!" she snapped and huffed, "And get off of me!"

"Say my name!" he snarled down at her, "Say my fucking name, Anzu!"

Eyes wide, she looked up at him and diverted her eyes, unable to handle the intensity (fire, lust, hate, lo-) of his gaze. "No," she said coldly.

Narrowing his steel gaze, he breathed on her neck. "Say it. Or I'll make you."

"You can't." she retorted, trying to ignore his hands and lips.

He made no reply, but returned to kissing her slender neck, leaving red bite marks as he went further down. One of his hands slipped underneath her, undoing the knot and tore the towel from her glistening body. The other sought out her hand, interlocking their fingers and brought it over her head. He kept it pinned to the armrest. She kicked at him in futile but jerked when his mouth enveloped one of her breasts.

She bit back a moan, her freed hand come up to the back of his head. Her back arched up when he lightly scraped his teeth across the hardened bud. Hazy eyes looked down at him, watching as he switched his attention to her other breast and repeated the gesture. A small whine vibrated in her throat.

He suckled on it and then moved up to kiss her, distracting her. "Say my name," he whispered hotly against her lips in the midst of their kiss.

"N-AH!" she cried out when she felt his fingers down there, probing her wet core. Slowly, he moved his thumb in circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves. Her fingers dug into his hair.

He breathed against her ear, "Say it."

She whimpered, burying her face into his neck to hide her voice. She let out a guttural moan when he slipped two fingers into her channel, curling it every time he pulled back. The feeling overloaded her body as she trembled and shuddered. "Please," she muttered into his neck.

"Say it first," he hissed, making his way to capture her lips. He inserted a third finger, and pressed on her clit, grinding it before switching into a torturous slow rub. She mewled into the kiss and her hips bucked against his hand, wanting more of him inside of her, wanting that release from the building pressure.

"Please," she pleaded, her body writhing.

"Say my name," he coaxed, as he started to pump faster into her. "Say it, scream it, Anzu."

"Ah!" Her captured hand squeezed his as she felt the coil in her tightening.

He kissed her roughly, taking her breath away, thrusting his fingers rapidly into her, and pulled away from the kiss. He watched her as the orgasm washed over her, with her back arched from the loveseat, her head tilted backwards, and her lips parted into a scream. "SETO!"

She fell back, exhausted and shuddering from her high, a sigh leaving her bruised lips. Her eyes fluttered. "You… shouldn't have come," she said distantly. "The press will destroy you."

He sat on his haunches, wiping his fingers on her discarded towel. "Hn, since when did I care?"

She sighed heavily. "Still, your reputation, your pride, it always mattered. I don't want this."

"Hm," he grabbed a cigarette and his lighter from his coat pocket. "Liar." She cracked an eye and swiped the lighter from his hands, tossing it over her head and onto the ground.

"No smoking in my apartment," she muttered, sitting up and taking her towel to cover her shoulders. "And if you're done, leave."

"I'm not," he smartly replied, the unlit cigarette held between his lips. "So shut up before I make you scream again."

She huffed angrily. "Look, we're not going through this again! I don't want to suffer for your wounded ego, okay? Now get out."

"You didn't understand," he muttered. He took the stale cigarette and flicked it to the coffee table.

"Then either enlighten me or leave. I'm tired of this." She made a move to stand up but he quickly snatched her wrist and forced her to sit again. Her towel dropped from her hands to her lap. He fell forward into her lap, a heavy weight suddenly burdening his shoulder, and she froze.

"They will tear you apart," he softly uttered, eyes closed. He felt her hand coming up to his cheek, her thumb sweeping over the black eye bags underneath his eyes. "They'll do anything to destroy my company," he said and her hands brushed his bangs back.

"You didn't need to send me away like that," she said to him as realization came onto her. "I could've handled it."

"Hn," he mumbled, tiredness washed over his body. But the weight lifted. "Stay."

"Stupid Seto," she said. He could hear a smile appear on her lips as he fell into a dreamless slumber.

Desperation a fini.

AN: Unsatisfying ending. OOC-Seto. Crappy coitus. And is waiting to be shot by SetoxShizuka fans. Augh.