Ryou was locked into Tea's tight embrace, surrounded by her searing heat, every sense overwhelmed with her essence. He could hear her voice, moaning, whimpering, whispering words he couldn't understand, yet somehow made him even hotter than he thought he could possibly be. He thrust into her softness as she arched up for him over and over…
Ryou's vision glazed over, and he had a curious sensation of drifting, like he was a hot air balloon that had been untethered. It only took a second, however, for him to find himself again. There was no fog, no shadows, only a sort of emptiness, like everything was just a bit too quiet, a bit too far away. He was in that spirit-space, that slice of mind and soul that was still connected to his body, but had no control over it. It was the place that the Spirit threatened and taunted him from, and the place where the Spirit shoved him whenever he wanted Ryou to be aware of misdeeds when he took over his body. He had taken over it now; Ryou knew that at once. He could still feel Tea, almost as clearly as he had a moment before, but he was no longer in control of anything that happened to her—or to himself. His hand snaked between their entwined bodies. His fingers grabbed at her breast. There was no tenderness there, only greedy desire as he squeezed the ripe flesh. The pleasure of it flooded through him, even as she squirmed to escape his grasp. His hips pumped viciously; he felt the surge of white-hot pleasure as she tightened around him.
He groaned, and then immediately felt guilty for enjoying what he was doing to Tea. Was that why the Spirit was doing it, to torment him? To jerk him away from her again and again, and to taunt him with the unfolding scene? Or… a sudden thought bloomed, and with it, hope. What if it was that simply the most the Spirit could do? Perhaps the Spirit couldn't lock him away. He mightn't have the strength left, not after all the power he had already expended that day. The fists of his spirit-self clenched. What if he marshaled his inner resources and pushed…
He slipped back into his body as easily as pulling on an old sweater. Tea's eyes locked onto his. He could see recognition flicker in their azure depths, then relief. He pulled his head down to brush a kiss across her lips, happiness burning almost as bright as the pleasure building between them. He'd done it; he'd fought the Spirit back; he'd…
Just like that, he was shoved back into that spirit-space. This time, he could feel the Spirit's malevolent presence as it surged forward into the gap his consciousness had left. No, he muttered, you won't win so easily. It took more effort this time, like forcing open a jammed door, but he pushed his way back inside his body. He did not, however, quite manage to oust the Spirit. No sooner had he resumed ownership than the Spirit tried to wrench the control back away from him. His fingers dug into's Tea's skin, harder than he intended, as if the physical contact could somehow lend him support in the intangible struggle he waged. He could fend the Spirit off—for now—but doing so took almost all of his concentration.
Beneath him, Tea let out a moan that was more of pain than of pleasure. The constant shifts in possession had changed their gentle lovemaking into a battlefield. The tension of it was written in every inch of her strained body. He ought to put an end to this, but he was too close, much too close, to stop now. Just a little more…a little more…
The Spirit grabbed for the reins once more, and they slipped from Ryou's grasp for just a split second or two. Tea gasped, squirming in discomfort at the jolt in rhythm. Ryou tried to regain the steady pace he had set before, but he was disrupted once more by the Spirit. This time, when he was knocked back, he felt winded, suddenly drained. The Spirit had taken back over, and Ryou knew at once that his hold was more secure this time. Ryou's spirit was weakened; another assault against the Spirit's control was not likely to be successful.
Maybe he should stop fighting, he thought. He could feel each thrust as the Spirit drove deep into Tea's soft warmth, could feel the exquisite pleasure as she tightened around him. It would all be over in a few seconds. He should just let the Spirit finish it.
And then Tea moaned. Not an expression of pleasure, not a protest of pain. It was a plea too elemental to be put into any words save one. "Please," she whimpered, bucking her hips insistently against his. "Please."
Without another thought, Ryou surged against the Spirit's hold one last time. He intended to break it, to force the Spirit as far back into the recesses of his mind as he could manage, but the Spirit wouldn't budge. It didn't matter how much strength Ryou threw against him, his defenses were stronger. He was implacable. Even so, Ryou reached for the control of his body. He had it now, within his grasp. Somehow, they both did.
There was an instant of mystified awareness, and then he felt himself sort of melting into the Spirit. Not consumed, or even subsumed, but merging with him, two entities as one. Both of them inside of his body, inside of Tea, moving with her in desperate urgency.
She felt the struggle, felt the shifting and tearing that shredded at the sensations building at her core. The steady rocking, the violent thrusts, her body couldn't adjust to the sudden changes. She was trembling, quivering as she teetered over the precipice. There was more, she knew there was more. Her instincts screamed at her that it was true. She wanted it, Yearned for it as she had never yearned for anything in her life. But she would never have it, not this way. Not with Ryou's tentative tenderness. Not with Bakura's jarring surges. "Please," she moaned, desperate for something she could not describe. "Please."
And then it happened. She could no more put words to it than she could to this craving inside of it, but she could sense it. The battle no longer raged. Instead of warring against each other, her two lovers fused She could feel the rightness of it in every stroke, pushing her higher and higher, higher than she could possibly go without shattering into a million pieces.
And then she did.
