A/N: Okay, after a long hiatus of writing original fiction for Camp NaNoWriMo, I return, bearing citrus content. It's more lime than lemon, but I upped the rating to M. If you don't think it needs it, let me know.


Bakura's hands were cold, but his icy touch trailed fire down her body. Despite herself, Tea couldn't help but gasp and moan under his ministrations. His fingers were everywhere, feather-light, never lingering for a moment on her all-too sensitive skin. Jaw, wrist, earlobe, temple, palm, throat… there was not an inch of exposed skin that did not receive his chilly caress.

And then, at last, he reached for that which was not exposed.

Deliberately, he raised his hands to the neck of the shirt and hooked his fingers inside. Téa shivered uncontrollably at the touch of his icy fingers against her warm skin. His smile widened as he caressed the very tops of her breasts, then withdrew his fingers. His hands slid slowly down her chest, only the flimsy barrier of the cotton shirt between his flesh and hers. Téa bit her lip to keep from crying out.

His hands stilled in their descent, fingers curling to cup the fullness of her breasts. His thumbs shifted over the thin material, finding the edge of her bra beneath her shirt. Heat quivered in her belly and her lips parted involuntarily. He leaned in and brushed his mouth against hers, but it wasn't a real kiss, just a reminder of his mastery. Her cheeks burned and a small corner of her mind wondered if she could still struggle, still break free. But the answer was no, the greater part of her mind reminded her. She had nowhere to go and no one to hear her. She could feel the strength in his deceptively wiry form. He would hurt her if she struggled. The delicate tremors pain that radiated from her shoulder were promise enough of that.

Bakura lifted his lips from hers, but did not pull his face away. His tongue snaked out and licked her lips. Téa shuddered, but dared not pull away. "Mine," he whispered, his dark eyes glittering with satisfaction.

His hands roamed lower, now skimming her sides, now slipping beneath her shirt to stroke her bare stomach. Téa writhed under his touch, her mind hissing at her to pull away, while her body was screaming for more. A low moan threatened to burst from her lips, but she bit it back with effort.

He stilled his hands and frowned at her. "You don't have to hold back," he whispered in her ear. His hot breath tickled her skin and his thick white hair brushed her cheek. "You can tell me just how much you like it."

Téa bit down on the inside of her lip so hard that she faintly tasted blood. Her hands clenched at her sides. She might not be able to escape his sick little game, but she wasn't going to play it with him.

One hand lifted from her stomach to caress her cheek. "Go on," he encouraged her. When she remained stock still and silent, his frown darkened. "Do no test me," he warned her. "I am master here." His hand stroked her hair. "You are mine, and you would do well to remember it. But I will remind you."

With frightening speed, he pulled her thin white shirt over her shoulders, leaving only her lacy bra between her bare flesh and his hungry eyes. He took only a moment to drink in the sight before running his hand under the strap of her bra and cupping her breast. Téa shuddered. The feel of his icy skin against her soft, sensitive flesh was unlike anything she had imagined—and though she knew she should find it utterly repulsive, desire pooled within her instead.

His fingers traced eccentric circles on her skin, sending ripples of pure fire burning through her. Téa felt her whole body softening, melting under the heat of the blaze he was kindling. She gritted her teeth and willed her legs to stand fast and her shoulders to stiffen. She would not lean into his touch , or collapse into his arms, or any of the other things her treacherous body was threatening to do. Above all, she would not moan for him.

His fingers found her nipple and she was almost undone. A cry of pure pleasure vibrated in her throat, aching for release, but she choked it back, barely. He smirked, and ran his fingers over the nub again and again, until Téa could not restrain the spasms of pleasure that rocked her body against his. Still, she managed to keep her lips sealed. She would not give him that. She would not let him take it from her.

His free hand went to her other breast, and now Téa faced a double assault. Her breasts ached with fierce pleasure; her blood seethed with desire. It pounded through every vein, trickled through every pore, and fogged her brain, clouding out every thought except the one she was clinging to with all of her strength.

Do not make a sound. Do not give him that.

She closed her eyes, shutting out everything but the cold, silky touch and the scorching flame that followed it. The ice and fire trailed over her breasts, caressing every inch. Now it trailed around to her back, now scrabbling at something, though she couldn't think of what. A sudden chill made her eyes flash open again. She looked down, startled, to see his long, pale hands stripping away the last barrier between him and her breasts. He pulled his hands away as the lacy bra fell to the floor. His dark eyes feasted on the sight. She trembled under his scrutiny, and her cheeks blazed hot with shame—shame to be seen by him like this, and shame because all of her was longing for him to touch her again.

But he did not. His hands remained at his sides. He simply stared at her, his head leaning closer, and closer, until she could feel the touch of his breath. Then, without warning, his mouth closed around her nipple and his tongue ran over the sensitive bud.

Every nerve in Téa's body screamed out its pleasure, and this time even her strongest resolve could not save her. Her mouth parted entirely involuntarily and a low, desperate whimper escaped.

Téa gasped, horrified at herself. But Bakura gave her no time to recover. He immediately ran his tongue over her nipple again, eliciting another moan, and then another. He broke from her breast and leaned against her neck, forcing her bare, all-too-sensitive breasts against the rough fabric of his jacket. "There, was that so hard?" he murmured silkily. "I told you that you were mine."

"I'm not!" Téa protested hotly, although her voice sounded weak, even to her.

He chuckled, a dark, slippery sound that sent shivers down her spine. "I beg to differ." He bent once more to her breast. This time, as his mouth enclosed on it, he did not merely lick her nipple. He sucked on it.

Téa's eyes went wide and she moaned desperately. He laughed against her delicate skin. "Shall I do it again?" he asked her wickedly.

"Yes," she breathed, before her mind could stop her. "Oh, yes."

"Then beg me," he said promptly. "Beg me to give you what you want."

Téa chewed her lip, twisting in an agony of indecision as her mind and her body battled. Bakura watched her with dark amusement. His icy fingers began playing, haphazardly, with her skin, preventing her from thinking rationally. When he brushed his thumb over her nipple, her entire body convulsed.

"Please." The ragged word slipped out entirely on its own.

Bakura smirked. "Please what?"

"Please, Bakura, please… touch me."

"But I am touching you." His fingers continued their idle exploration.

"No… with…your mouth," Téa said with difficulty. If her need had not been so great, she could never have forced the words out.

"Like this?" he questioned, bending his head and suckling deep from her breast. Téa moaned with pleasure. But Bakura was not finished toying with her. "Is that what you want?" he asked, lifting his head again.

"Yes," whispered Téa. "Yes, oh yes!"

"Are you sure?" His voice, dark, sardonic, yet so smooth, dripped over her, full of some private amusement.

"Yes, I'm sure. Please, do it again." When he did not immediately comply, her voice took on a desperate whine. "Bakura."

"I'm not sure I like that name from you," he said, smirking. "Call me 'Master.'"

She started to shake her head in protest, but he tweaked her erect nipples with his finger and thumbs. "Say it, or you will get no pleasure from me," he warned.

She gasped in mingled pleasure and pain. "M-master," she managed.

"Better." He dipped his head to reward her, this time attending to her other breast. "But I'm still not certain you know what you want. There are other places I could touch you." His voice vibrated huskily. "Better places." His hand dropped under her skirt. Before Téa knew quite what was happening, he was stroking her through her panties.

She gasped. "Bakura!" Instantly, his hand stilled. His other hand pinched her nipple, hard. She cried out in pain, and instantly realized her mistake. "Master!"

He kissed the hurt nipple, running his tongue over it to sooth it. Téa sucked in her breath hard. There was still a corner of her mind that could see what was happening and could not believe herself. How was she allowing this—no, far worse—enjoying it?

"That's my good girl," he murmured in her ear as he slid his entire body against hers. "Say it again."

She hesitated, but only for the briefest second. "Master," she said slowly, turning her face towards him.

His lips claimed hers immediately, tasting and possessing with a greedy abandon. The rough fabric of his open jacket shifted against her delicate skin, all at once stimulating and irritating. Finally, when she could handle the sensation no longer, her hands shoved the fabric away, tearing the jacket off his shoulders.

Bakura stopped when he noticed what she was doing and helped her strip the jacket off his arms. "I'm sorry, my pet," he said. "I suppose I wasn't really being fair, was I?"

Téa blinked in confusion, but before she could even begin to wonder what he meant, he was pulling his own white undershirt over his head. Téa's mouth dried. His chest was bare except for the Millennium Ring, gleaming gold against his pale skin. His muscles were hard; his stomach taut. There was no overabundance of musculature, but every inch of him was lean and defined. All on their own, Téa's finger itched to stroke his chest, to find out for themselves just how firm those taut pectorals were. She restrained her fingers, but she could not restrain her eyes. They wandered over every inch of him, marveling at how she could have ever thought Bakura scrawny.

An amused sound drew her gaze back up to Bakura's face. Her face flamed at how obviously she'd been staring. "Do you like what you see?" he chuckled. She nodded, too embarrassed to speak. "Then touch me." He covered her hand with his and dragged it to his chest.

How was his skin so cool? Every inch of her own felt flushed and overheated. Worse, how was it so smooth? Her fingers glided over his pectorals like a figure skater over fresh ice. The few pale hairs that brushed against her fingertips just made the sensation more erotic.

Then she touched the Ring itself. Cold—not the marble-coolness of Bakura's skin, but real, warm-sucking cold—greeted her fingers as they grazed one of the round arrows that dangled from the central ring. There was something else to the feeling too—a sort of tingling. What was it? Magic? Power? Something more than mere metal. Whatever it was, it wasn't unpleasant at all… quite the contrary.

She slid to her knees—the painful touch at her shoulder mercifully disappearing—and brushed her lips over the arrow. The same tingle shuddered through her, only deeper, sweeter. Above her, Bakura let out a tiny sound suspiciously close to a groan. "Can you feel that?" Tea asked curiously. Without waiting for a response, she closed her lips around the arrow. A shudder went through Bakura's solid frame, but Tea barely noticed. She moved her mouth, savoring the feel of the cool gold, the delicious electricity it sent racing through her. She pressed her tongue to the golden tip.

A strangled groan erupted from over top of her. Immediately, Tea pulled away. "What is it?"

"Never mind!" Bakura snapped. "Just…do that again."

"Do what?" Tea asked.

Bakura's eyes were so dark they almost looked black. "You know what I'm talking about." His voice was harsh and strained.

Tea gently touched the dangling arrow, still slick with her saliva, wondering what he was so worked up about. Bakura growled. "Not with your hands!"

A sudden light dawned and her head popped up. She didn't even bother trying to hide the wide smirk spread across her face. "Beg me," she said.

"What?"

"I'm waiting," she murmured. She put her lips close to the arrow and blew lightly. He yelped.

"Tea!" he snarled, then sighed. "Please, Tea." The words sounded like they had been ripped out of his throat.

Knowing better than to push her luck, Tea complied. The still-cool metal sent shivers of delight through her as she swirled her tongue across its surface. Guttural sounds of pleasure drifted down over her. She reached up, trying to better brace herself against him. But instead of skin or clothing, her hand found icy gold. Her fingers closed around another arrow and a gasp flew from Bakura's lips.

Magic thrummed through her fingertips, pleasure roiling even stronger in her veins. Was this what a Millennium Item made you feel like all the time? It was euphoric…and addicting. She had to have more. She tightened her grip on the arrow in her hands, even as she sucked greedily on the other. Deep moans filled the air, but it was as if the sounds came from a great distance. They echoed meaninglessly in her ears.

The only thing that mattered was this electricity shuddering through her, making every inch of her quiver with pleasure. The metal didn't feel cold to her anymore. It was warm—no, hot. Smoldering. But painlessly. The only pain was that there was not enough of it. The power could be stronger, greater. She knew it. She could feel it deep inside her.

Dizzy with pleasure, desperate with yearning, she lifted her face , ignoring Bakura's distant protest. Driven by something more elemental than instinct, she pressed her face against the golden triangle at the Ring's center, her lips at the center of the eye. Magic blasted through her, a pleasure so powerful it was pain. For a moment, a glorious moment, every cell in her body was alive with it, ecstatic agony.

Then the shadows closed in around her.