Notes: There will not be a relationship, as such. There probably will be sex, though, because what else is there to do all day? Not too much detail, though. This is for Dar, because everything is her fault and she draws these amazing pictures that make me want to do some damn work! Also for Hangyul - don't work too hard! Laura - who should definitely get a gecko, Shiro Ryuu - Nice to hear from you again! And Frankensnakie, my pet snake, who has poked his head out of my sleeve and is flicking his tongue out at the screen. Hopefully in approval.
The Outlaw Torn – Chapter 2
Traveling, traveling. This is how I spend today. From the Kaiba's limousine to a two-part plane flight to yet another car and then a helicopter – of all things – out into the scorching desert. The plane ride was interesting, I've only ever seen the clouds from above once before and that was through Ryou's eyes, somewhat absently whilst I brooded over my impending attack on the Pharaoh. Now, seeing the heavens with my own eyes, I'm not surprised by the glaring lack of deities. It makes me wonder if the faith of the masses has dwindled since the advent of the aircraft. Breaking through the heavens and finding no gods or palaces of cloud must have been quite a reality check, although not for me. I already know my god is dead.
The helicopter was loud at first but the journey is only half an hour and I'm quickly distracted by the views of my homeland stretching out before me. I'd expected the cities to be crowded, built-up and modern, but it still struck me how much Egypt has changed. It's hard to prepare oneself for the shock of seeing their homeland transformed by the passing of time. And so much time, at that.
Still, the cities never were my true home. I was always a creature of the desert, and as we fly out away from the crowds of haphazard buildings I lean back in my seat, ignoring the whirring blades of the helicopter as I stare out over the landscape. The signs of so-called civilization thin out and the barren rocks give way to an ocean of sand, stretching out in golden waves as far as I can see. This was my home. It has barely changed in millennia, and up until this moment I hadn't realised how much I missed this wasteland.
XxXxX
The compound turns out to be a huge, black dome in the middle of the Sahara. I can see it from the helicopter as we fly in closer, the oily black surface seeming to absorb the sunlight. Anything that looks like a great, dark blood blister on the golden landscape and sucks in the brightness of Ra as this thing does is all right, from my point of view. It looks evil, and that appeals to me.
Mokuba is here in the helicopter with me, pointing out the dome as though I could fail to notice something that fucking huge and right in front of me. Luckily for him, he makes himself useful by explaining some of the workings of this shelter. The elder brother is already inside, from what he tells me. The dome itself is made from some kind of tempered plastic that only looks black from the outside, like a two-way mirror. The heat and light absorbed by the dome powers the air coolers and electronics on the inside – I take all this information in carefully and store it, in case I should ever need to know any of this. The inside of the dome sounds interesting. According to the boy, the inside is a self-sufficient environment able to support up to five people comfortable for years at a time. It was based on the American Bio-Dome project - although much improved by Gozaburo Kaiba's technology – to be marketed as a long-term bomb shelter. The things rich people insist upon frittering away their money on. A cave worked well enough for me, but I suppose a few luxuries will not go amiss. I expect they'll make my stay with the priest marginally more bearable.
Mokuba continues to bombard me with riveting facts about the composition of this structure, but I quickly tire of caring about this. I want to get inside it and see with my own eyes. For now, I endure the rest of this tedious journey by watching the boy's lips move. He has such full lips, I imagine how nice they much taste. He notices me staring and trails off, flushing slightly as a few choice memories rise to the forefront of his mind.
"Keep talking, child." I purr, watching with a smirk as he stammers and begins again, going into great detail on the facilities available inside his little shelter. I follow the movement of his lips again for a while, before crawling across the long seat to where he is. He is tied down by his seatbelt, unlike me. I would not wear it, this flying monstrosity could crash straight into concrete and it would not kill me. He wisely keeps talking, clearly he has learnt from our first encounter.
Such a clever child.
I lean over while he sits still and lick a path up his throat, my lips curved in a smile.
"What interesting toys you have." I comment in a hot breath against his skin, moving up like a cat to run the tip of my tongue around the delicate shell of his ear, revelling in the shiver that courses through him. He is the only toy that holds my attention at this moment.
"It's hardly a toy, it's a state-of-the-art-" He begins, before I press a finger to his lips to silence him. I'm amused by this show of fire, but it isn't what I want right now. Tracing the contours of his lips with my fingertip, I move to straddle his lap. He's still taller than me, but I know very well that height isn't everything. It's very obvious who's in charge here.
"Kiss me." I demand, removing my curious fingers and replacing them with my lips. He lets me do as I please yet again, and I pillage his mouth like the thief I am. It leaves him gasping for air and I draw back, watching with interest as he catches his breath and admiring the flush of his skin. I store it away in my memory, fully intending to relate this moment in the utmost detail to Seto Kaiba when the desire to piss him off strikes me.
"We-we're here." He tells me, eyes wider than usual. He has such pretty, pretty eyes. Not as pretty as mine, but so few are. I release him and sit back in my seat, closing my eyes as the helicopter lands. I listen to my own heartbeat slow down from the rush of lust, enjoying the last electric tingles in my blood. I want to let my mind run free, to spend the next few minutes enjoying my fantasies of pressing the boy down against the seats and clawing my long nails viciously down his sides. I want to make him arch and twist and writhe beneath me, I want to show him that there is a very thin line between pain and pleasure and I know just how and when to break it. However, before I can wonder why I'm even holding back, I feel the jolt of the helicopter setting down and we have arrived.
No matter, I'm sure it won't be hard to catch him again before he leaves me here with his brother, the man with blood of ice. I fully intend to test that theory, as well.
"It can withstand a nuclear blast-" Mokuba is saying to me as I exit the aircraft, which has landed near the dome. I wonder if they've ever actually tested that, not that I care. Nuke me. I won't die.
Following the boy over the rocky ground – the dunes of golden sand rising like waves in the distance and no other signs of civilization to be seen on any horizon – I relish in the heat rising up through the soles of my shoes from the ground. For a brief instant I stand there, not looking at the compound but away from it, out into the endless gold of the desert. It feels strange standing here without a headdress or my cloak. The desert is as beautiful as I remember, scorching and barren. A faint whisper of Kul Elna reaches me, the ghosts of my people welcoming me back home. It pulls me slightly to the south, deeper into the desert, perhaps three days' journey on foot away from this dome. To be so close feels odd, and for a moment I am almost sentimental. How sad, that now it will be nothing but a cavern and a scattering of ruins buried beneath the shifting sands. I could use the Ring, dig them up, clear the sand.
How tempting...
"Are you coming inside?" Mokuba interrupts my thoughts and I turn back to the compound, stalking through the perimeter fence and right up to the outside of the dome. I touch it and it burns my hand, but I barely notice. The coating looks like oil, a myriad of swirling colours on a base of darkness, with a slick look to it. The door inside looks like an airlock from some science fiction film, which I suppose isn't far from the truth. I let Mokuba lead me inside, into a small chamber. The pilot from the helicopter brings my bag, but I pay him no further attention as the small chamber opens and we are finally inside.
I must admit, I am impressed.
The first thing I feel is the sudden change in temperature – the scorching heat of the desert is replaced by much more temperate climates. Before me is a forest, which is an odd thing to see in the Sahara. The trees are old and must have been bought here, not grown here. The grass is lush and green, the whole place having more of an air of rural countryside in England than a bubble in the deep desert. I turn from the trees and look to my side, at the dome. As Mokuba had told me, I can see right through the dome to the sand and rock outside, darkened only slightly by the plastic separating us. It pleases me that I will be able to see it whenever I wish.
Following the child – barely listening to his tour in favour of watching him move – I am led along a path through what appears to be a ring of forest around all edges of the dome. There are streams which keep the trees and grass alive, all leading back to one large lake, from what he tell me. The streams end at a smaller pool, which we walk past. The waterfall leading into the pool is sculptured, but still attractive. It looks like a good place to bathe.
The path leads us to the middle of the dome, up a small hill to a house that looks like a western-style cottage. Behind it is a chicken run and to the left is a garden growing vegetables and herbs, along with a greenhouse and a store shed. Already I feel as though I'm on a farm.
We make our way into the house and Mokuba shows me around the kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms – as though I've never seen the rooms of a house before. The last of the three bedrooms has a closed door, and Mokuba explains to me that Seto is inside, sleeping off whatever was so skilfully slipped into his coffee. I make a note to visit this room later, before he wakes up.
I am led back outside into the dome – which is large enough to fit a fair-sized shopping mall inside – to the right of the house. The place already annoys me, the ivy crawling up the walls and the rope swing attached to a tree nearby are too much like something Ryou would love. It surprises me that there are birds here, they really have thought of everything. I wonder briefly if they would survive in the desert heat if I were to release them, and then decide that they would not. They seem happy enough to be caged here.
"-feed the chickens every morning-" Mokuba is telling me, as I half listen to him and half concentrate on slipping off my shoes. I dislike wearing them, feeling the grass beneath my feet is much better. Suddenly the boy is handing me something, a radio and what looks like a credit card, presumably the key for the outer door. He looks worried, and I pay attention now that he is actually saying something important.
"This is the key, for emergencies. Hide it, Seto can get pretty serious when he wants something badly enough. There's a radio in case you need to get in touch with me. Seto should be waking up in an hour or so, so I should get going." The boy decides nervously. Clearly the thought of his brother catching him here does not appeal to him, he does not heal as well as I do.
"I shall walk you out," I purr, turning and sweeping him along with my arm. He allows himself to be steered back down the path, past the little streams and the pool (which I would dearly have loved to have seen him soaked to the skin in), back through the woods and almost up to the exit. The pilot would be waiting out there to take the child back to Cairo, so I set the key and radio down beside one of the trees and stop Mokuba, pressing him back against the rough bark. He doesn't struggle as I lean in to kiss him, running my fingers ravenously through his long hair and growling as I push him back. I've been waiting for this. He shudders beneath my harsh fingers, making those noises I have come to enjoy so much. It comes as a surprise to him when I turn us around, leaving him standing in front of me whilst I lean back against the tree, my eyes deliberately dark.
"Show me just how grateful to me you are, for babysitting this troublesome brother of yours." I laugh wickedly, raising my hands to his shoulders and pressing him down to his knees. "Call it a goodbye kiss," I smirk, impressed that he does not fight me.
Such a clever boy.
XxXxX
Once Mokuba has left, I take the radio and the key from where I set them down earlier.
"To work..." I murmur, slowly walking through the forest, following the curve of the dome. About a quarter of the way around the dome I come across something that will serve me nicely as a hiding place. A hollow in one of the old apple trees, a disused bird's nest inside. Lifting the nest out carefully I place the key and radio inside, along with the Ring. I will always be able to find this place, but once I replace the nest it is invisible to anyone else. The Ring will lead me back here whenever I need it to, a useful trinket when it needs to be.
Once the radio and keycard are hidden with my Ring I head back towards the house and make my way inside, deciding to take a look at sleeping beauty. Up the stairs I find the bedrooms again, two empty and the end one closed. What I seek is behind door number three.
...Well, isn't that unusual? Seto Kaiba looks rather attractive when he's unconscious. There is a message in that. He's laying on the bed, wearing clothes that almost manage to make him look normal. Someone has gone to the trouble of taking off his boots, although how they got through all those buckles I shall never know. He even has buckles on his arms, perhaps he wears them to make it harder to undress him – should anyone want to. It's strange to see him sleeping; with his eyes closed he looks innocent, which is not a word that is usually applied to him. I study his features, crouching down beside the bed silently, and decide that the peaceful look on his face is so different from his usual expression because the ever-present frown is gone. Between that and the sneer of contempt that regularly adorns his face, he does not have a great deal of facial expressions.
His hair is falling over his eyes, it would be in them if they were open. His skin is pale – although not as ghostly white as mine – and unblemished. He is an attractive creature, it's a shame he has a personality that makes most people want to throw him in front of a train. I am not excluded, I would happily kill him in his sleep right now if the conditions of my payment did not state that he must leave this place alive. I can always tie up any loose ends later – meaning I can sneak into his house and murder him when he gets home.
I am tempted to touch him, just because he is asleep and he would never know. That would annoy him, which pleases me. I reach out, employing all of my skills as a thief so as not to disturb his sleep, and press my fingertips to his forehead. His skin is cool and soft, somehow more human than I had expected. On impulse – since he has not stirred – I lean towards the bed and press my smirking lips against his, purely for the fact that he would hate to be kissed in his sleep. I wish he would wake up and know what I am doing, but his eyes are still closed and his breathing tells me he has not woken. Wake up, damn you! How am I supposed to annoy him when he stubbornly refuses to regain consciousness? I hate this man.
Kneeling on the floor now, I lean over him and press my palms against his shoulders, kissing him more forcefully this time. I'm pushing him down into the bed, forcing my tongue into his mouth and growling low in my throat.
"Wake up. Wake up!" I snarl as I break off, using my grip at his shoulders to shake him twice with my words. I wait a few impatient moments and then stand up, folding my arms and looking down at him. "Bastard." I mutter finally, turning away and leaving him to his dreams. He isn't even awake yet and already the frustration has begun. It will be interesting trying not to kill him.
TBC
I am writing! See? The next bit of Use the Man is also coming along, it hasn't been abandoned. I just hit a bit of a block.
