Oh.

This, this was dangerous.

That other kiss, the one in the back alley, the one she'd been shoving out of her thoughts since the moment it ended, had been something else. A ruse, a strategy, an elaborate piece of deception. The memories might burn her cheeks, but she could chase them away without feeling much more than a flush because, after all, they weren't real. Bakura would never really kiss her. She would never really kiss him back. It could never happen, not in real life.

He was kissing her now.

She was kissing him.

Her hand splayed on his chest. Her fingers tensed, knowing she should push him aware, needed to push him away. Instead, they glided across hard muscle, finding the ridge of his collarbone. His mouth moved against hers, changing the angle of attack, demanding things she was all-too-eager to surrender. She found her fingers scrabbling at his shoulder, pulling him closer. White hair fringed her vision, strands of it teasing her cheekbones, her shoulders. She wanted to push it away, to dig her fingers into the downy mass of it, but her other hand was still pinned in Bakura's grip, and he showed no signs of letting go.

She twisted a little, trying to get loose, and in response he made a low noise in his throat and ground his hips against hers. Losing her balance, Téa clung to his lean frame, breasts squeezed against his chest, thighs pressed together, legs tangling. Fire danced through her, scorching her so completely it was impossible to tell where the flames had started and where they led.

He had finally let go of her hand, using his to cradle the back of her head, instead. His other hand against her back had moved lower, cupping her backside, molding her lower body to his. The thick denim of his jeans was grating against her thighs, and she shifted uncomfortably. Her newly-freed hand slipped to his hip, pushing at the offending material, questing further to loosen the annoying metal button at its center.

A sudden revelation made her gasp. "You're not wearing any underwear!"

The loose jeans shifted even lower on his hips, proving the statement true. He shrugged. "You didn't give me any." His fingers slipped up under the thin cotton of her panties, teasing her bare skin. "Maybe I should just steal yours."

"Bakura…" she warned, wriggling a little under his touch, but not flinching away.

"Well, if you are so determined to divest me of my clothing, why shouldn't I return the favor?" He bucked his hips, threatening the tenuous hold the zipper had on his jeans and making it impossible to ignore the straining bulge they just barely contained.

His hand glided over her hair down to her shoulder where he pushed aside the strap of her bra. The cup gaped, revealing almost all of the warm ivory mound and just a hint of a dusky areola. "I'll start with this," he said, tugging at the cup just enough to let her nipple spring free. "Then this." He pulled at her panties, sliding them fractionally down. "And maybe even this." His hand on her chest slid up her collarbone, fingers finding the gold necklace at her throat. "Although perhaps I would enjoy seeing you in only this…" He chuckled as he teased her, seeming to enjoy the blush that spread over her face.

Then, his expression changed as his fingers twisted around the pendant that hung from the thin chain. "What is this?" he muttered, more to himself than her.

Téa opened her mouth to answer, an unsettling feeling stealing away the heat that had flooded her. Before she could get the words out, though, Bakura had let go of the necklace as though it had burned him. He stepped back, away from Téa. "Is it his Name?" He flung the words out like they were the stinking carcass of some dead animal.

She nodded, flushing at the scorn in his eyes.

"Take it off." The words sound hacked off, all the silky smoothness gone.

The very air in the room seemed to have changed, heat no longer scorching the spaces between their bodies. Yet it hadn't cleared. The tension was still there, but it was different now, like the seconds before a storm.

Téa reached up behind her neck. Bakura's eyes seemed to burn through her, following every action. Her fingers found the clasp of the necklace. His eyes dug into hers, narrow slits of darkest crimson, and she felt the heat of that stare go straight through her. Her cheeks flamed, but the burn —embarrassment, shame, desire—went deeper, coalescing into a smolder coal of anger. "No."

"No?" Bakura queried softly, dangerous softly.

"No," she repeated. Her hands fell to her sides. "Why shouldn't I wear it?" She lifted her chin. "I'll have you know it's one of my most prized possessions."

Bakura glowered. "How very touching." Venom dripped from every syllable. "I'm sure our dear departed pharaoh would just love to know you keep him so close to your heart while you trade intimacies with his enemy." His eyes dipped pointedly to her all-but-bared breast.

Téa's cheeks burned brighter. "That's not… I wasn't expecting… that!" she spluttered. Every inch of her exposed skin—and there was so much of it—seemed aflame, but trying to cover herself up now would only single weakness.

His mouth twisted. "Ah yes, of course. The little mistake with the sandal strap. I suppose winding up with the wrong dead man in your bedroom, you just had to make do."

That was going too far. Téa balled up her hands as tightly as she could to keep them from shaking with anger. "I wasn't—! I didn't—!" He made it sound so sordid. She'd wanted to talk to Atem. She'd missed him. Sure, she wouldn't have objected to a kiss…maybe more… but she hadn't planned to seduce him or anything!

Hang on, though, she definitely hadn't been planning on seducing Bakura either! "You kissed me!" she pointed out, incensed.

"You didn't seem to mind." He leered at her.

"You…" Something inside her snapped. With both hands, she shoved at Bakura's chest. Insufferable devil, he refused to collapse backwards into a satisfying heap. He barely moved at all. He was too solid and muscular and naked, although she was hard-pressed to say what the last one had to do with anything, except that it suddenly seemed very, very important. He just stood there, face centimeters from hers, looking scornful at her efforts. "Move!" she demanded, shoving at him again, just as uselessly.

His breath stirred against her lips. "Make me."

And then her mouth was on his, kissing him. Hard. Fast. Fierce. He stumbled back a step from the onslaught, and victory sang sweet and feral in her veins. She threw her body against his, pushing every inch of herself against him. He cursed in a language long dead, and she silenced him with her tongue.

His hands landed on her hips, anchoring her against him, as her fingers dug into his hair, pulling him closer. Their tongues tangled as Bakura went on the attack. He ground his hips against hers, hard, as Téa panted for breath, earning himself a moan.

He nipped her earlobe. "Vixen."

Oh, she liked that better than "witch." She rewarded him with an open-mouthed kiss down the side of his jaw. He growled, his body rigid with desire, finding her mouth with an intensity that drove her backwards until the back of her thighs hit the edge of the bed.

Warning bells sounded in her head, and she twisted, hard enough to keep herself from falling backwards. Hard enough to shake off Bakura's grip and send him rolling onto the bed.

He laughed, his dark eyes gleaming. "Is this what you want?" His eyes raked over her, her flushed pink skin, her heaving breasts that had almost completely spilled out of her bra, her soft stomach and smooth thighs. There was no denying that he liked what he saw. "As you like, then." His fingers tugged at the zipper of his jeans. "I'll even let you leave that bit of gold on."

Maybe, if he hadn't said it, the hungry flames that had consumed her every thought would have licked through her last drop of sense and plunged her towards satisfaction. Maybe if he had said nothing at all, just tugged her to him, she would have forgotten everything and let it happen. But he had said it, had reminded her of who she was and what he was and exactly what they were doing. He had reminded her that this was a choice.

She couldn't choose this.

She took several steps backward, wishing her skin would cool as quickly as her ardor. "I think you'd better go." She turned and darted for the closet, grabbing a few clothes items at random. "I need to get dressed, and so do you." She didn't dare turn to look at him. Body tense, she hugged her bundle of clothes to her chest, waiting for the sounds of him leaving.

After what felt like an eternity, the bed creaked, and she heard the soft pad of his bare feet on the carpet. She heard him pause a few feet away from her. Her heart pounded. She was certain he was going to say something or, worse, touch her. If he spoke to her now, she didn't know what would happen. If he touched her, she knew exactly what would happen.

He did neither, however. After a long, silent moment, she heard his footsteps carry him out to the door. It creaked shut behind him.

First day of October, so extra story update! I am going to shoot for two chapters a week this month in hopes of getting the story done in time for Halloween.