Disclaimer: Saying I own Yuugiou is like saying Marikku only wanted to cavort naked with pink dancing bunnies through the streets of Domino, and we KNOW that's just not true.
A/N: Holyshit I updated. o.o -clears throat- Anywho, just a short little one-shot on some contemplations about dark Malik's existence, or half thereof. He doesn't have a name in this for a reason, just fyi.
Why?
The question ran through my mind over and over, a single blink of sense in a haze of pain and pleasure as my own lips brushed over my skin. A body twin to my own pressed against me, violating, ravishing, needing and wanting and hating me like I hated and needed and wanted him. Soft, domineering caresses touched where it hurt most, sharp nails digging into the fresh wounds he'd inflicted moments earlier. And as much as I wanted to push him away, to stab and to tear and to rip his bloody heart out, I shamefully craved more of it.
Why? Why did he do this to me? Why couldn't he have just left me be? He ruined my life, killed my father, almost destroyed me! Why did he have to return like some damned version of Dracula and haunt me like this! Why did I almost feel sorry for him, then, if I hated him so?
His moist tongue ferociously invaded one of my wounds, eliciting more screams from my already raw throat that quickly faded into sore silence as he interrupted my disjointed thoughts. A snarl reached my ears as he fed hungrily on my pain, his teeth nipping at the sore flesh and tearing more yells out of me over and over and over until I thought I might pass out. Oh, it hurt, it hurt so much to be touched like this, but yet, at the same time, it felt so good.
But no matter what I felt, it was wrong. Wrong in so many ways and on so many levels, tainting and sinful—I almost felt like a thick film of sludge was beginning to layer over my already damned soul. Was this perhaps vanity, in some way? Wanting to be touched and caressed and tortured by my other self like this? Maybe. But then maybe not. I wasn't certain. There was little I was certain about anymore these days.
Strong hands pushed me back towards the floor, bloodied lips seeking my own as my devilish twin pressed himself against me. I moaned into his mouth, the coppery taste mingling into the stirring kiss as I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him closer, closer, closer, but not nearly close enough. I wanted—no, needed to be closer, a deep pain in my very soul begging to be reunited with its lost reflection where he had once been a part of me, where he had once been the entity that had made me complete.
Heh. A rather romantic way of putting it, given what he'd done to me and was still doing.
But I wonder. . . . Maybe I do deserve it. After all, what right did I have to so carelessly cast away a part of my very spirit? Embodiment of my madness that he was, he'd still been a part of my soul. A hated part, but a part nonetheless.
I whined as a sharp pain formed between my legs from his sudden dry invasion into my body. Yes, yes, yes! My body seemed to scream out for him, that emptiness inside begging he come closer. I almost couldn't think anymore. . . .
Why did he do this to me?
Without waiting, he thrust fast into me, a small hiccup of pain issuing from my mouth. I could feel my body throbbing in time with his, the mixed sensations of pain and pleasure masking the still unsatisfied need for closeness. More, more! I need you! I need you close to me! Closer, closer, even closer! I clutched his back, nails digging into flesh, and pulled him in for a kiss. He withdrew from me, growling viciously as he slammed harder into my body, and I arched my back with the motion. Need . . . I need you, I need you now! My thoughts chanted.
Was it because he hated me? Was it because I deserved it?
Did I deserve it?
Our cries of pleasure filled the empty air as he slammed into me again and again, pushing me to the brink of white insanity as I screamed in pleasure. Desperately, I wrapped my leg around his waist, pulling him closer against me each time he thrust. More. More, please! His teeth dug into my exposed neck as I tilted my head back, eagerly leaving his mark on me once more. I was close, oh so close. I want you even closer!
Did I deserve it?
A final shove against that sensitive cluster of nerves sent my mind reeling into sweet white oblivion, one last scream of pleasure pushing past my lips. Finally a few eternal split seconds later, I fell from my high, remembering where I was, who I was with, my mind just barely registering the situation. Another second or so later my darker half's face came back into focus, leaning dangerously close over mine, close enough to kiss, his eyes closed as he breathed heavily with exertion. I stared, wide-eyed and not-quite comprehending, before regaining enough sense to push him away in disgust with what strength I could muster.
What was wrong with me?
Why did I let him do this to me?
Was it because I felt sorry for him?
How could I feel sorry for such a monster?
My demonic self smiled coyly, his dark eyes watching me like a predator observing its prey. Ra, how I hated that look. That stupid, smirking, all-knowing look, laughing at me and mocking me for being so weak, knowing what I really was. That . . . exposing smirk on his face. How I wished I had a knife to carve it off.
"Such . . . violent thoughts, hikari," he said, grinning slightly. Though affectionate as one might usually believe the term to be, the emphasis belied his true feelings about me. A liar. A fake. Impure. And what I hated most about it was he was right, and he was the only one I couldn't fool. Damn him. Just . . . damn him straight to the belly of Ammut.
"Shut up." I turned away from that ugly mockery, rising shakily to my feet as I went to collect my clothes, to do something other than think about his watching eyes and his way of always being right. Of course, there was no real need to do so—this was simply a connection between our minds, brought on by the severing of our soul—but I held no control over what happened here. I could only wait until he decided to send me back, where nothing would remain except dreams. No scars, no smells, no memories, nothing. Just the way I wanted it to stay. He could fade into complete nonexistence for all I cared—it wouldn't make any difference to me.
Not true. You need him, and he needs you. The thoughts seemed to come from almost nowhere—they certainly weren't my own, or so I hoped. It was . . . disturbing, to say the least, to think that I might harbor anything at all for my other self.
Rough denim slipped over my legs, quickly hiding the slashes and cuts left by his rough treatment as I forced myself away from my thoughts. My other self's eyes felt like they were burning into my back with their gaze; I quickened my pace. I wanted to leave. NOW. Before I felt anymore sentimental over this . . . this thing that looked like me, sounded like me, this sick and twisted half-existent copy of me. This thing that wouldn't exist if it hadn't been for me.
Silken skin slipped around my waist, moist, warm flesh caressing my ear and causing me to flush. "Yes . . . I suppose I never would have been born if you hadn't, either, hikari." The words cut deep, his ability to always be so Ra damned right irking me. I shoved him away violently, walking off into the darkness without heed of the danger.
Did I deserve what he did to me?
"Say hello to Isis for me," my other self called mockingly before the shadows began to dissipate. Blackness melted away into dark blue stone, taking the memories of the events with them.
Did I deserve it?
I could feel myself finally returning to my physical body, weighted, gravitated to the soft sheets once more as the last of my lingering thoughts slowly floated away, like phantasms from a disturbed dream. I buried my head into the pillow, exhausted without knowing why I was even awake. One last thought pervaded my mind as I began to drift off.
Yes, I do deserve it.
