Game, Set, Match

-for the lovely Silver, who provided the tumblr prompt: Revolutionshipping #8 "Wanna bet?"

Inspiration: Ambre Narguile, Everytime We Touch by Cascada, dreamy photos of Cairo at dusk. Not mine.

Disclaimer: Do not own YGO either.

Some language and adult suggestions

...

"Can't handle the heat, can you, Anzu?"

Challenged blazed through amethyst eyes. The smirk...oh Ra, that smirk was dangerous, lilting layers of wonderment and precociousness. They promised something mind-bending and wonderful, and, for an idyllic second, Anzu is tempted to kiss the arrogance from his mouth.

Now that could be very, very promising, indeed...

Then her mind registered the dare in Atem's voice.

Hmph. Just. Goading her to try, was he?

All right. Anzu Mazaki doesn't back down from a challenge. Anzu Mazaki is the challenge, if Mr. King of Games High and Mighty Pharaoh With THE Pokerface can handle it. Mascaraed eyelashes flicked in his general, still-smirking direction. A speck of something- to brief to pin down as lust? love? both?- dashed across Atem's face.

Hers set with a deliberate splash of wine-smeared gloss.

Poor, poor man. He actually thinks he has a chance.

''Wanna bet?'' Anzu licked her lips. Slowly, deliberately, with a little more than vanity in mind. The fruit and chili kabob in his hands didn't look dangerous, but then again, Atem didn't look very dangerous at the nightclub, either, until he abruptly divested the man-child who grinded a little (ok, a lot, but if anyone asked Anzu was too blinded by the pulsing lights to see anything) too close to her behind of four front tooth.

She blinked at the ensuing gap.

Finished the drink.

Then grabbed Atem's still pulsing hand and ran, away from the crowd of gaping people gathered around the crumpled figure, black leather jacket and glittery miniskirt weaving through the streets, finally stopping in front of an unfortunate street vendor who was calmly grilling food one second and mysteriously gone the next, as soon as Atem fixed an unblinking glare upon the poor man's open-mouthed appreciation of her legs.

Cairo's late night fine dining menu remained. Candied dates sizzled above volcanic coals. Lamb and chili kabobs fizzled, grease popping. Atem studied the carnage and purred. He picked up two skewers. Apples, chilis, plums, dates threaded like he'd always been some gourmet chef instead of merely observant. For someone who's never had to cook, he worked the grill like a pro, tossing mists of herbs while flipping them. Two minutes this side, one the other. A drizzle of honey, a flourish, and a challenge.

(For later.)

The first skewer disappeared behind a wall of gleaming teeth.

The second waited.

Anzu eyed it dubiously. Who knew he could cook? Scratch that. More like magic, the way his hands moved over the plumes of smoke rising from bottom of the makeshift oil-drum stove. Whatever the burnt splatters were, they probably wasn't safe for human consumption, but, oh, his eyes.

Shiny, glinting, alternately light and dark like flames simmering into purple, hazy oblivion...

She took the skewer. shifting its weight, marveling at the way his eyes tracked her touch. Fruits slid, colors reflecting in her periphery. Sienna like the dusky breeze ruffling through his hair, red like the chili peppers squished in between, crimson like the flush of her cheeks now.

Anzu bit down. Yum. Flecks of cinnamon and cardamon blazed across the roof of her mouth, hot, molten, promising. Faint, rum-like notes of molasses and smoke swirled at the base of her spine. Sinuous, undulating, spicy, sweet, like Atem, whose irises burned.

He swallowed.

"You. Home. NOW."

This time it wasn't a flicker. That gaze made her wild, primal, sinuous with desire- feral and strong, need pulsing in a song only he composed. Thrills reverberated across skin. Now that was a rhythm they could dance to.

Anzu grinned.

"Can't handle the heat, can you, Atem?"

...

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