It had started as a way to distract himself, reaching for something, anything, to dull the pain a little. At first it felt wrong, innocent as he was, but gradually it became second nature. He was a normal guy, he had urges like anyone, and what's the most pleasurable thing for teenage boys after all?
Ryou's hand subtly curled around to his front, slipping smoothly down the front of his trousers and hot fingers fondling himself gently. His breath quickened as he worked himself to erection, silent except for the quiet rushes of air escaping his parted pink lips.
Behind him, the knife flashed in Bakura's skilled hands as he ran the cold steel over the boy's exposed flesh. Crimson streams were let loose one after another to dribble down his back, no particular design to the wounds except where pale scars had healed over the most.
Another cut, this one long, covering the length of the tender skin above his spine. Ryou shivered, quickening his efforts below his belt and shutting his eyes.
Bakura stopped, halfway through nicking his sensitive back once more. "I thought I told you not to move," he said icily.
"S-sorry.." Ryou apologized, his voice nothing more than a pained - or was it pleasured? - gasp.
Bakura's free hand closed around the top of his shoulder, squeezing so forcefully that he felt the bones crunching beneath his yami's powerful grip. Ryou's fingers were becoming slick as he continued, the skin on his cheeks flushed.
His yami kept working on his pallid canvas, staining it with red while Ryou doubled his efforts to keep his mind elsewhere.
The last slice was agonizingly slow, tension rising in his gut as he came into his palm with a final touch. His cry was muffled by his grit teeth, surely sounding tortuous to Bakura's ears but assuredly otherwise judging by the mess he was now wiping off on the inside of his pants.
"Good boy," Bakura said by way of praise, cleaning his knife on his own knee as Ryou caught his breath. His cheeks cooled and he stood, feeling his yami's strong arms wrapping themselves possessively around his torso, warm breath running over his ear. "Barely one complaint, much better than before. I think you deserve a reward."
Ryou sighed. He shifted, and Bakura relaxed his hold, letting him move away. He looked back; his yami's shirt was covered in artistic red stripes. "I'm not really in the mood.." he said.
"You don't want to?" Bakura asked, feigning hurt as fury flashed in his eyes. His eyes shut instinctively when the man's hand shot out towards him, fingers wound in his hair and wrenching him violently back into his arms.
Ryou exhaled sharply, feeling a familiar tingling in his groin simultanous with the ache in his scalp and the pressure digging into his body from Bakura's angry grip. There was a knife pressed against him again, the tip lingering dangerously near his collarbone. He could feel Bakura's manic grin. "I was being generous," the man said humorlessly.
He took a calming breath, trying to steady himself and not think of the metal point pressing threateningly into his throat. His legs shook. "C-can you.." Ryou began.
He started to shiver when the blade moved up to caress his cheek, dragging a paper thin wound down the side of his face. Ryou's knees buckled. "Can I.. what?" Bakura almost purred.
It had started as a distraction when Bakura had started his little cutting game, but turned into something else entirely. Ryou swallowed, peering at him anxiously. "Can you.. do my back some more please..?"