Tongue to lip, running along the curves and valleys that were bleeding copper, humming at the taste. Fingers shook with excitement, daring to crawl through the air towards his host's skin. He wondered if it would burn, leaving specks of pink, possibly vibrant red. Not black, he reasoned. Never black. It was simply too dark, and ill-suited to the boy underneath him. After all, black was his—sucking the colour, bleeding it dry. Ryou couldn't take that from him, not yet. Bakura would slit his through before he would have the chance.
However, Bakura discovered that maybe grey would suit Ryou. Yes, absolutely grey. It allowed wiggle room, curiosity to strengthen into actions to test a theory. The hue would be green, melting into his eyes and slowly swallowing as he memorised the taste. Ryou shivered at the intimacy; his shadow laughed in response. "Be still." He whispered.
Ryou's first instinct was to disobey, as the spirit's tone unnerved him. All the same, it scraped ugly teeth marks down his back, strangely aroused and addicted to the pleasure of it. He learned towards the frigid fingers, ignoring the cold and embracing it for what it was. "Then touch me." The words tumbled from Ryou's mouth, trembling with the passion and the internal heat and oh god Bakura's hands were on him now. A whimper came from somewhere—most likely him— as he began tilting his pelvis into that hand, not bothered by the cold air, or the cold touch, or the cold heart above him. It only made his love stronger, his will fiercer.
Bakura smiled with mirth, barely containing his own thrill as it rushed through his brain, rattling his bones. He proceeded to tangle their limbs, legs sticking together with sweat from a previous round. The nimble fingers of the blissful boy below grew adventurous, gingerly testing the waters and smiling as the spirit groaned in response.
It was disgusting, they both agreed, but they both loved more fiercely than their disgust.
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