He watched. That was what he did. It was what he was good at. He lived in the shadows. He had dwelt there for a long, long time. He was used to it.
She swayed on the dance floor, auburn hair unbound, eyes closed, dancing with any boy near her. He dreamed of shoving those rude, grasping, groping boys away from her and taking her into his arms and kissing her and tearing her clothes off and taking her there on the floor and showing them all who she belonged to...
Isis said he was too possessive, too focused, too devoted. He failed to see how that applied. His undying devotion to Malik had saved the world. Now that Malik was with his yami, he was useless. Isis told him that he wasn't, but he knew the truth.
He growled low in his throat as one of the boys dared to touch her, trailing his hands over her sides, over her breasts, over her stomach, lower. How dare he profane her holy body with his filthy touch... She should be something he should worship from afar! Something that only I get the chance to touch, to caress, to love... He does not love her! She is nothing more than a toy to him! I love her! I will always love her... No matter what!
He watched as her cheeks flushed as the boy continued to touch her, as her movements changed, became more sensual and uninhibited. Gods above and below, how he wanted her then... But he always wanted her.. how could this time be any different?
But he couldn't let her know... He watched, he only ever watched, he could not act on what he saw. Not even when the clumsy, stupid boy on the dance floor pressed himself full-length against her back and thrust himself against her.
He should be able to touch her like that... to take her in his arms... simply just to take, to take and take and take until she went limp beneath him, flushed as she was now, panting, and he could hold her close and tell her how he loved her, murmur how amazing and beautiful and special she was. Not like this boy was doing. Not clumsy or forceful or stupid. Stupid.
She was making no move to stop this boy... His hands were getting bolder now, daring to slip beneath cloth to touch the flesh below. Flesh that he knew must be smooth and flawless and prefect beneath the tight clothes she wore...
What had happened to the shy, innocent girl he had first seen during Battle City? The girl who had sat with him whenever Isis could not, when he was unconscious and fully vulnerable to Marik's twisted will? The girl he had first fallen in love with?
Could he bring her back? Was it even possible? Or was she like... like this forever? Gods... had someone hurt her, before he had been able to find her? Had someone taken that innocence for himself?
If that was the case... he would find them... and they would die. Slowly. Isis would scold him for that... possibly severely... But this was his Serenity, no one else's... His! If someone else had touched her first, defiled her, when he was not there to protect her, it would be on his head, his responsibility, his ignorance, his fault...
He had had just about enough of the boy on the dance floor... He was trying to kiss her now... And not a gentle kiss, but a bruising, forceful kiss, a claiming kiss... She was avoiding it well, but it opened up her neck to him and he took advantage of that, turning his kiss downward and attaching his mouth to her neck, sucking hard, leaving a bright red mark.
Rishid could hear her moan. Even over the music, the talk of so many people...
It broke his control.
He moved off the wall and started for her, shadows clinging to him raggedly. Part of his screamed at him that he was a watcher, nothing more, he could not act on his urges like this, that what he was doing was wrong...
He told that part of himself to fuck off and stalked over to the dance floor. He had dressed the part for this club, casting aside his normal clothes, his robes, for something a little more appropriate for this situation. He had raided a seldom-used part of his wardrobe for this occasion, choosing a pair of tight black jeans with slashes in strategic places, multiple chains and belts around his hips, neck, arms, legs, hanging from his pants, shirt and coat, a slashed mesh t-shirt, and a long black leather trench-coat, which he had discarded at the door.
Even here, he was a force to be reckoned with. And he made damn sure the people here knew that.
He grabbed the boy by the hair and yanked him off of Serenity, tossing him to the side. He bounced back immediately, fury on his face. "What do you think you're doing, you bastard? I was-"
Rishid didn't wait for him to finish, he merely slammed his fist into the boy's face, carefully judged, carefully timed, carefully aimed, hard enough to knock the boy backwards, down and out in a second, and keep him down. Mine.
He quickly took the boy's place, even though his mind screamed at him to return to the shadows, to hide himself away, to make sure that she never truly saw him. But he couldn't stop himself now.
She hadn't stopped dancing, and hadn't even seemed to notice that the man she was dancing with had changed at all. He allowed himself to touch her now, to slide his hands down her sides to her hips and tug her back against him, biting back a moan at finally being this close to her.
He touched her as that boy had, only slower, gently, worshiping her body as she deserved, resting his nose in the crook of her neck and nuzzling her slightly, inhaling the unique and heady scent of her and nothing but her... He could finally touch her hair and feel its silky softness, could finally tug her closer against him and feel her body pressed against his... The only thing he could not do was tell her that he loved her... How much he needed her in his life... How she was his Goddess, his world, his life...
He was all but stunned when she turned in his arms and slipped her arms around him and nuzzled his chest slowly. "I was wondering when you'd come rescue me..." Her voice was low and purred, barely audible over the music.
He felt frozen to the spot, unable to react to this new development. "You... you knew I was there?"
"Of course I did," she murmured, kissing his chest, which, with the mesh shirt, was practically bare. "You're always there... you're always protecting me..."
He shuddered and his control slipped a little more. "I only try... You deserve better..."
"Mm, better than these boys with their toys?" Her eyes were very dark, and there was something sparking in them as she looked up at him. "Well, perhaps you can give me something more..."
Rishid went completely tense as two parts of his mind clashed violently. The calmer, more rational part was telling him to turn and leave. The part that was definitely more masculine was screaming at him to take her up on it. After a moment, a third part calmly stepped in. This is what she wants. She is asking you for this. We give her everything she wants...
"Anything for you..." He heard himself say, and allowed himself to lean down and kiss her gently. She responded hungrily, coaxing him to deepen it, to taste her, to let her tongue twine with his.
At that, he shuddered and dragged her fully against him, kissing her harder, just short of bruising force, hands trailing along her back slowly. She melted against him, moaning now, dragging herself against him wantonly.
"Gods..." He didn't know his voice could be that deep, and started to move against her as well. "Oh, Gods..."
"Good?" Her eyes sparked at the pleasure that was plain on his face. "Do you want more of that?"
"Gods..." He wasn't capable of thinking... She was rocking against him with a slow, steady rhythm now, and his pants were uncomfortably tight. "Serenity..."
She placed a finger on his lips and smiled sultrily at him. "Would you like to take me home and throw me on your bed and ravish me? Perhaps you'd rather skip the getting home part and get to a bathroom stall? Or even just a bathroom... up against the wall..." She lightly bit his ear. "...or even at one of the booths..."
He was lost. His mind overloaded with the fantasies, the dreams, all his desires that he had repressed for too long. He devoured her lips, dragging her off the dance floor and towards the door. Malik would kill him for leaving that coat behind.
Too bad. What was in his arms was much, much more important than any stupid coat.
He shuddered as her hands slipped down to stroke him slowly through his pants. "Stop..." He forced out, catching her hands. "Stop now, or we will not make it home..."
She smiled sweetly up at him. "I can't wait... Really... I can't..."
He kissed her deeply. "Wait, just wait a bit longer..." He pulled back and let her hands go. "Just a little longer..."
She settled herself on the motorcycle behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Drive fast, then..." she purred.
What had happened to the innocent, sweet girl from Battle City? What had happened to the Serenity Jounouchi he head known?
He didn't know. He wasn't sure he cared. And as long as she was his and only his, he was content. No one else would touch her. No one could. He wouldn't let anyone. And he would never let her leave. She was his. But he belonged to her in return.
Perhaps Isis was right. Perhaps he was too devoted, too obsessed. Perhaps his fanatical devotion to her would only serve to harm her in the end. Perhaps he was not what she needed... perhaps he should let her go...
Perhaps he was only going to cause her grief. For a moment, he almost stopped the bike and made her get off, made her go home, made her forget about him. Then he would have turned and driven away, tried to forget about her, and the way she had kissed him and the way her skin had felt beneath his hands and the way she had tasted for that moment when he had devoured her lips...
The mere thought of giving her up drove a spike of pain through his heart, and he clenched the handlebars tightly. He... Gods, could he give her up if he had to? If she didn't love him? If they made love and she regretted it, how could he atone for his sin? He would have to die... would have to take a dagger and slit his own throat for the crime he committed. He would die to please her. He would kill to please her. And he would live to please her.
Everything he did, he did for her.
Was he obsessed? Yes. Was he in love? Yes. Would he die without her?
Yes.
For a moment, that thought scared him.
But as small, pale hands slipped under the mesh shirt to trail over his chest lightly, he decided that he didn't care. She was his. And he would never let her go.
Ever.
A/N: o.O Be afraid... Be very afraid. I don't know where this came from. I don't know why I did this. But I did. So there.