Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or any of the affiliated characters.

"words"

'thoughts'

just emphasis

Prologue

He was at a party, and he was only there because he felt like ridiculing the social idiocies of others. Parties did not interest him, he thought them obscenely base, but the eventual pain parties brought, that he did enjoy. He was a sadist, and was unafraid to admit it, but, he had not found someone masochistic enough for his fantasies, and that was the underlying reason he ever came to these parties when he was invited. Maybe he would find her tonight; hell, it might even be a guy. Who knew? He sure as hell didn't.

Then again, maybe he did, but he could care less about the piece of flesh, burned to a crisp and buried under a mountain of hate and covered with ice, that he called his heart. He would make sure she, he was decided, would be able to stand his devious side, behind closed doors, before going any further with that topic. That all came down to why he was at this party in the first place: he . . . wanted.

His eyes scanned the crowd, gazing dispassionately at the drunken fools. None of them were beautiful enough, because yes, he was obsessed with beauty. If his partner were beautiful, smart, and a masochist, he might eventually fall in love, but only if those standards were met perfectly.

She most definitely will not be blonde, he thought, turning his gaze to the other side of the room. He was almost ready to call tonight a failure, an urge unfulfilled, that was, until he saw her. It was an instant reaction, and he felt his entire body stiffen. He moved silently through the crowd, never letting his gaze move from her.

She was beautiful, but not a traditional beauty. No, she was so much better. Her hair was dark, a shadowy shade of black that when she turned her head, the light was reflected back in shades of blue and red. It was not straight, but hung in the gentlest of waves, resting lightly on her shoulders. Her body, shaped just how he would have pictured, was only scantily hidden behind fishnet stocking, a short, leather mini-skirt, mid-thigh, flared boots, and a skin-tight leather tank top. From the distance he stood at, it looked as if the curve of her breasts would fit perfectly into the palm of his hand.

His fingers twitched, itching to reach out and see if she were as supple as she looked. But he restrained himself, instead waiting around, trying to catch a whisper of their conversation to learn her name. But none ever came, because she smiled to the group of women, then turned, and ran directly into him. She looked up at him; her eyes were a violently dark blue, so dark they looked slightly black. They were almond in shape, a mix between the traditional Asian tilt and Caucasian point.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said gently, politely, stepping back away from him, her expression a cross between horror and surprise.

"It's quite alright, Miss . . ." he said, hoping she would giver up her name. And as he spoke, her face twisted slightly, to that of a curious expression as she thought for a second. Her voice had been perfect, and he wondered, in those few seconds before she decided to speak, what it would sound like to have her screaming in pain and pleasure. He repressed a shudder.

"Akachi, Akachi Tougaya," she said. Her eyes, lit with a curious look, watched him with the kind of curiosity that was a burning fire mixed with a cautious ice. "And you are?"

"A mere nobody by the name of Marik Ishtar," he said, and he watched her eyes widen, and saw a hidden respect in the dark irises. He could feel the heat that emanated from her, from her body that was merely inches away from him, and he wanted to drag her up against him and claim that luscious mouth with those ever-shining pale-red lips. He fought back the urge, but barely.

"Well, it was nice to meet such a talented nobody," she said, spiking her words with a careful joke. The prickling feeling that rose on his skin and caused a small shiver to run down his spine at her words told him that she was the one he wanted, masochist or not. He would have her.

"A pleasure," he said, bending over her hand to place a phantom kiss on the pale skin. She drew her hand back, bestowing another smile on him, before nodding and walking past him. He turned around and watched her as she went. He watched her backend sway as she carefully stepped around those in her way. He lost sight of her at the door, and gave a small, victorious grin that caused his face to distort into a grimace of purely malicious intent.

"Hey, Marik, you know she belongs to someone, don't you?" asked a busty blonde who stepped up beside him. He glanced to his right and saw violet eyes. She gave him a flippant grin, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. He had been so caught up in her that he had failed to ask that question.

"Who is it, Kujaku?" he asked coldly. This bitch had wanted to get back at him ever since Battle City, and she was enjoying this, he knew it. She only smiled, waved once, and turned around. He watched as she walked off, knowing she would toss her, Akachi's boyfriend's name at him over her shoulder.

"It's Seto Kaiba," came her voice, in a flippant, aggravatingly sweet tone. He only stood there, frozen to the spot as it hit him. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the glint in the pale purple eyes was decidedly evil, and he watched with disinterest, a plan forming in his mind, as the people around him backed away.

This is just something that I started, I don't know how it'll turn out, but I see some major tension in the next chapter.

Please review, so that I know if I'm doing good or not. You'll make a pretty girl very happy.