Libidos and violence go together like love and hate

"So… Yugi's not around to talk to?"

"I'm afraid not," came Téa's reply through the laptop speakers. She seemed oddly sad and deflated, which was very unlike her, but Ryou wasn't the type to pry.

"Well, ok," he replied, sounding equally as down as her now. "Tell everyone I said hi."

"I will, Bakura, keep safe." She gave a half-hearted smile before the laptop screen went black, and Ryou's room was left feeling deafeningly quiet once more.

With any luck, the little runt got hit by a truck.

"Don't say that…" Ryou mumbled, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

…What are you wearing?

"Huh?" Ryou blinked and his fingers grazed the black frames of his glasses. "Oh. Reading glasses, I thought it would help me see better."

Our eyesight is fine. Take them off.

"My eyesight," Ryou grumbled but took the glasses off despite his annoyance.

Excuse me?

"Nothing," Ryou started to click away on his laptop when suddenly Bakura had appeared beside him in spirit form. Although he should've been used to the translucent nearly-look-alike of himself, he still found it deeply unsettling to see Bakura face-to-face.

No really, Landlord, would you care to repeat that? Bakura's tone was dark, something Ryou was not unfamiliar with… but hadn't dealt with in a little while. Bakura had seemed to be in a better mood as of late, but Ryou guessed all good things had to end eventually.

"It's nothing, sorry," he mumbled, trying to sooth the other's temper as his eyes stayed fixated on the laptop screen. His attention was suddenly forced away as he felt a sharp tug on his hair, and he was made to stare at his see-through clone. "Ah!"

Don't talk back to me, Bakura said in a low voice, ghostly fingers still entangled in his hair.

"O-okay! Let go!" he yelped, feeling his hair straining at the roots. His own hands came up to push Bakura's hand away, but that only helped to annoy the spirit more, so he pulled until Ryou was forced onto his feet.

When did you grow a spine, again? I thought we had sufficiently knocked that out of you.

Ryou couldn't help the frown that formed on his face. Bakura was acting like his old self—but the truth was Ryou wasn't his old self. Somewhere along the line both of them had become so subdued with each other. Neither of them fighting or trying to repress one another, but now they were back here, Bakura lashing out at the slightest thing…

"You'd never stop me from fighting back," he bit back, almost as a reassurance to himself. He was loyal to Yugi and his friends. Bakura was the enemy, and Ryou wasn't his weapon.

He refused to be.

However, Bakura didn't seem to appreciate that.

Ryou felt the back of his head connect with the desk in the same spot Marik had slammed him against the door a week or so ago. He yelped as his back bent backwards painfully, and kicked his legs out to successfully kick the spirit's shins, who growled dangerously at the attack.

Ryou slumped after he collided with the floor, cradling his head.

Don't fight back, Bakura's hand clasped Ryou's chin, making him look him in the eye. If Ryou squinted, he could see his chest of drawers through his head. I have a task for you, Landlord, and you've been so good lately, I thought I could trust you.

Ryou felt a sharp pain burning in his chest, and he cried out, batting Bakura's hand away and then clutching at his t-shirt, now damp with blood.

I need your help, Landlord, so do please behave.

Bakura finished and Ryou was left to stare at his blood stained clothes. He pulled up his t-shirt slowly until he saw the five spikes of the millennium ring digging into his pale flesh.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The door slammed open, and Malik didn't even flinch. He had come to terms with the fact that Bakura couldn't open doors like a normal human being.

"Afternoon~" he replied cheerily, able to feel Bakura's bad mood from the moment he had stepped into the room. "I'm making fish omelettes. Yes, yes, I know you don't like fish, or meat that isn't still bathing in its own blood, but these smell really good—"

"…Are you wearing an apron?" was Bakura's only retort.

"Yes! I bought it today, there's a lot of sales going on right now so this was very cheap."

"You look like an old woman," Bakura snorted before leaning over Malik to stare at his cooking. His bad mood had lifted since his initial entrance, and that surprised Malik to say the least, but what was more disconcerting was the sudden close proximity.

"Hello," Malik tilted his head, their faces only mere inches from each other. "Is there a reason you're visiting my personal bubble today?"

Bakura rolled his eyes, but didn't move away. "Does it bother you?"

"Yes, you smell… of blood." The realisation made Malik's brows knit together. "Been having a little fun?"

Bakura snorted. "Hardly." He moved back from Malik until he stood behind him, and Malik felt his hands drifting down his back, the motion making Malik's lips twitch into a smirk. Well, this was new.

"Bakura," Malik focused on his omelette despite Bakura's impromptu back massage. "I'm cooking,"

"Then stop cooking." Bakura's hands drifted low enough to rub small circles into the small of Malik's back before pulling at the poorly done knot of Malik's apron.

"It will burn—" Malik pretended as if the situation didn't interest him in the slightest, keeping his hands and eyes intently focused on the dish before him, even though in truth this was a highly interesting development. Of course, he had ran their previous kiss multiple times over in his mind, and not always for analytic reasons. But after their confrontation, he had assumed whatever had spurred in that strange moment was done and dusted—only now did he question why he was so thrilled at being corrected. And yet... "What does one eat with omelettes? I haven't even prepared anything else."

"Malik," Bakura growled dangerously close to his ear, making the Egyptian's smirk grow all the more.

"I'm sorry Bakura, did you want something?" he chuckled, dishing up the now cooked omelette onto a plate, Bakura's hands never leaving him.

"I think I made that plenty clear the other day." Again, the thief was so closed to Malik's ear he could actually feel the breath tickling his hairline.

"You may have to refresh my memory," Malik hummed, setting the now finished omelette on the counter just before he felt Bakura's hands travel down his spine one last time, grabbing at his waist.

"Gladly," was all he said, turning the blond in his arms and smashing their mouths together.

Malik chuckled into the kiss, and Bakura responded with a growl, his hands possessively clawing at Malik's sides as he pushed his tongue into his mouth. As soon as he tried to dominate the kiss, Malik allowed his amusement to finally be pushed aside and wrapped his arms around Bakura's slightly smaller waist. He hoisted him up, one hand slipping under Bakura's thigh.

"Ngh!" Bakura broke from the kiss. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"Moving," Malik explained once he had enough of a grip on Bakura, he wandered around the counter. Despite Malik being relatively strong, Bakura was no feather, so as they approached the couch, Malik all but dropped Bakura onto the cushions, causing Bakura to growl out a few choice curses. Malik quickly shut him up with his mouth.

Their tongues battled for dominance, but even as their kiss prolonged further than their previous, there was never a clear victor. To Malik, that only made the kiss more fun. They were both constantly warring at each other's mouths, lips, tongues, and teeth involved, attempting to subdue the other, but neither really succeeding.

Malik had sat himself on the sofa between Bakura's legs, one of his legs propped up on the sofa whereas the other remained on the floor to balance himself. Bakura's legs had wrapped themselves around Malik's waist, his heels knocking into Malik's back every now and again as Malik bit a little too hard on his lip, but oddly enough that only encouraged Malik to do it more. Getting a rise out of Bakura was always fun, and this was no exception.

Bakura nipped at Malik's lower lip before soothing over it with his tongue and then drawing back. A whine escaped the blond to his mortification and Bakura's amusement, but a quick glare wiped off that shit-eating-grin on Bakura's face.

"Why'd you stop?" Malik rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Hm? Oh, I'm done." Bakura pushed at Malik's shoulders, signally for him to move out the way.

"What?!" Malik stared at Bakura incredulously. "What do you mean done?"

"I mean, we're done here." The grin on Bakura's face was making Malik's nerves rile up. "Isn't your food going cold?"

"Oh, I don't think so." Malik leaned in to capture Bakura's lips again, but the white haired man quickly turned his head to the side, so Malik only caught his jaw. Malik could work with this.

He started planting kisses down Bakura's ivory neck, never having noticed how fair his skin was until now. It was really almost as white as bone, and right now Malik found himself deeply engrossed in that skin. He wanted to taste and feel all of it.

"Malik," Bakura groaned, his hands still pressed against Malik's shoulders. However, Malik paid no mind, his lips now taking the time to kiss and suck at Bakura's collar bone, and then he suddenly sunk his teeth in.

Bakura threw his head back as Malik kissed and licked at the now purpling mark, his hands trailing down Bakura's clothed chest, making Bakura hiss for reasons he couldn't fathom right now. He did notice Bakura's hands had started up again working up and down his back, the scarred skin underneath his shirt prickling at the unfamiliar attention.

"You like my back, huh?" Malik breathed between kisses, and Bakura suddenly dug his fingers into Malik's shoulder blades where the carved wings resided.

"No," he growled, his nails digging in tightly. "I fucking hate it."

The heat that had been bubbling in Malik's stomach had finally reached boiling point and his lips pulled away from Bakura's pale skin to melt against his chapped lips again, and Bakura took his opportunity to change their positions. He pulled Malik up before pushing him flat against the sofa, their lips breaking apart in the sudden movement. Before Malik had time to register the situation, Bakura was between his legs, raking his nails down his sides, and biting feverishly into his neck. No kisses or soothing licks, only teeth and tongue marking down his throat.

"Hng…" Malik tried to bite back any moans, but now Bakura's hips were moving against him. His mask had been completely shattered by the assault of the new and very interesting sensations running through his body.

And he was thoroughly enjoying the attention until he realised something very bad. "B-Bakura… Bakura!" His panicked gasp quickly turned into a growl as he tried to push the thief away. But Bakura didn't stop, his hips kept rubbing up against Malik, and his hands rubbed up and down Malik's sides a couple more times before running lower. They ran over his sensitive hip bones and clasped his thighs, pushing the blond's legs further apart. The friction nearly unbearable for Malik, who was suddenly furious about the amount of clothes between them, but there was something much worse at hand.

Despite all his snark and wit, the experiences he'd faced on the surface, and how untouchable Malik acted, it became very clear in that moment; Malik was far from experienced.

"A-ah!" he cried out, his fingers digging into Bakura's hair, his breath coming in pants. Bakura kept moving against him a couple more times, drawing out the sudden hit of pleasure that was causing Malik to arch off the sofa like a damn virgin—ah, but wait. That was quite accurate.

Bakura grinned down at the flushed tomb keeper, quite proud that—despite Malik's dark skin—he could still make out a deep blush. He rubbed Malik's thighs a couple more times before leaning down and capturing Malik's lips in a teasing kiss.

"Now. We're done."

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooo ooooooo

A/N: like a virgin~ touched for the very first time!