Koimonogatari
Warning(s) - Yaoi/shounen-ai, masturbation. If you don't know what that means, you are strongly advised to leave. All flames will be publicly ridiculed at your expense.
Disclaimer - I don't own YGO, but I'm writing this fic anyway for my lovely readers and reviewers. So sue me. j/k ^^
Aiite... first things first. Doumo arigatou gozaimasu for the reviews!!! ^^
Slice - hehe... so did I. In fact, Goshima-sensei will drop off the face of the earth in chapter seven. so stay tuned! (uh... gomen for the cheesiness... aheh ^_^;)
Yami's Girl710 - (and to those of you who are confused about what happened) Ryou was limping up the stairs because he'd overdone his leg curls and had really sore muscles. (see end of chapter two) If you remember those awful contraptions in the weight room at your high school or gym, you'd know what I meant. Bakura misunderstood the significance of his limp and thought Ryou had been raped. (Which he hadn't, for those of you who are still confused.)
Yami-Jen - *went ecstatic when I saw your review* just thought you'd like to know ^_^;
Chapter 5
Koiji ga Inamenai desu.
koiji ga inamenai desu - (one) cannot deny love's pathway
Ryou heard his yami's footsteps fade. He inhaled the vanilla-sandalwood scent, still fresh on his skin, to remind himself that what he thought has happened in the past half hour had actually happened. He turned onto his side, relieved to find that his muscles ached less than they had before. And that his arousal ached more.
He groaned. It didn't surprise him at all that his yami's ministrations would leave him in this condition. He wished irrationally that Bakura would finish what he'd begun and step back into the room, profess his love, then fuck like bunnies until Monday morning. Ryou laughed drily at his own naive fantasy. It was plainly impossible. Bakura didn't love him; Bakura didn't even like him. He probably couldn't care less for how Ryou felt about him. Yet... from all perspectives, it seemed as if his yami had actually tried to comfort him.
Ryou didn't understand it. At one moment his yami had been exorbitantly angry with him, and the next he's shown him more kindness than Ryou believed he was capable of. The more he thought about it, the more he came to doubt everything he'd once believed. Was Bakura really angry with him, or was he just violently overprotective? Everything seemed to point to the latter.
That would mean Bakura cared for him. Oh, but if only he did! Ryou laughed humorlessly. Heh, he told himself. Do you really believe he cares? Do you think there's even a chance he does? Of course not. You're a fool to believe these pointless musings; you hang on to every little gesture and try to interpret them as love as if you were a lovesick schoolgirl.
He sighed in resigned longing and closed his fingers around his length. At least in his fantasies Bakura loved him. At least his fantasies were in his control, even if nothing else was.
He closed his eyes and imagined that it was Bakura's hand and not his own that was stroking his cock. Did Bakura touch himself like this when he was alone? Did he think these thoughts? The image alone made Ryou moan aloud. He thrust harder into his fist, throwing his head back and lifting his hips off the mattress. The muscles of his thighs and calves tightened painfully, but he didn't care.
He felt himself grow close, and slowed his pace to a near stop. Ryou repeated his yami's name in his mind until it became a fevered mantra and he could think of nothing else. He moved slowly, bringing himself to the precipice of his control and rode it for as long as he could, then slammed his fist down in one hard, fast pump, throwing himself over the edge.
"Bakura...!" he cried aloud as he climaxed into his bandage-wrapped hand. He flushed a little; he liked the way his yami's name sounded on his lips. It sounded right, as nothing ever had.
This is where my yami's supposed to come in, he thought wistfully, cleaning his fingers as well as he could with a tissue. This is the part where he's supposed to fling open the door and accuse me of crying his name. I'm supposed to be mortified that he'd been eavesdropping, and he's supposed to comfort me and tell me that he's wanted me all this time, too...
Naturally, it didn't happen, nor did Ryou really think it would, but he liked to think it might. Ryou sank into his pillow, listening to the pounding of his heart in his ears recede. He felt empty and still unfulfilled, as if something were missing. Exhausted, he curled on his side and drifted into a dreamless sleep.
¤¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤¤
Bakura cursed himself for his weakness. What would his hikari think of him now? That he'd gone soft? Or even worse... like a five thousand year old hormone overrun queer from Egypt. He groaned inwardly.
Why did Ryou have to be so infuriating? The boy had to be perpetually near, yet out of reach, testing Bakura's self-control with each passing moment of existence.
He wanted, just once, to know the taste of Ryou's lips beneath his own, but he didn't think he could be satisfied with just one taste. He knew that if he had one taste, he'd want another, and want each kiss more than he did the last until kisses weren't enough.
Ultimately, he wanted to be the first to show Ryou the pleasures of the flesh and the first to know him fully. He could have had it today. But he didn't, he couldn't, and he didn't know why until now. Ryou had looked so tempting, yet so vulnerable... Bakura felt a sharp sweetness slice through him. This was why he couldn't just take the boy right then and there. He didn't want it like this. He didn't want it without Ryou's love.
He loved Ryou, he knew, devastated. He'd tried everything to keep it from happening, and he thought he'd succeeded. It seemed that, for him, it was never "Oh shit, I'm falling." It was always "Oh shit, I've fallen."
He swore, cursing everything from his Sennen Ring to his Duel Monster's deck. "I defy you, stars!" he cried, his voice reverberating within his soul room. The lonely sound faded away to leave him in complete silence.
Bakura wanted, for once in his life, to be completely in charge. It seemed to him that everything was out of his hands, that he had no control over what happened to him and to those around him.
He wanted too many things, but what he wanted or didn't want didn't matter. In the past, he never got what he wanted, and there were no signs that it would be any different now.
¤¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤¤
Ryou opened his eyes groggily and sat up with a start. It's 7:50 already, he thought frantically. School starts in twelve minutes! I can't take a shower today... I've missed the bus already... He threw off his covers and felt a cool draft hit his bare skin. Wait a minute... why the hell am I naked?!
Gradually, he recalled the events of the past afternoon. He felt blood flush his cheeks as he pulled on his flannel pajamas and wondered how he was going to face his yami after what had happened. As he walked down the stairs, still wincing with each step, he drew the conclusion that he should just pretend nothing happened.
To his relief, Bakura wasn't downstairs. Ryou padded across the cold tile of the kitchen floor and took a frozen dinner from the freezer.
Ryou leaned listlessly against the cool kitchen counter as his meal microwaved. How could he have possibly thought it was morning? Even if it were, it would have been Saturday. This is probably the third stupid thing I've done today, he thought disgustedly. The first being all of those extra leg curls, and the second telling Bakura I gave Goshima-sensei consent to touch me.
He ate his unevenly heated linguini alone at the kitchen table, throwing his fork into the sink with a clatter and the empty box into a wastebasket. Ryou sighed deeply, wondering if this was what the rest of his life was going to be like.
Ryou walked despondently back up the stairs and brushed his teeth. He unwound the bandage around his wrist, wincing as he pulled away the last few inches that stuck to his skin with dried blood. This bandage was beyond reuse -- he tossed it into the toilet, flushed, and replaced it with a clean bandage from his first aid kit.
Slippling between his sheets, he closed his eyes, letting himself materialize in the hallway between the two soul rooms. Two doors appeared before him, equally ominous. Ryou chose the left, the one that belonged to his yami.
Hesitantly, he pushed open the door. His yami's soul room was often a literal labyrinth, as treacherous and full of pitfalls as the pyramids his yami used to rob.
In the light that flooded from the cresset lamp bracketed to the wall, Ryou watched in spellbound silence the figure that lay haphazardly on a black marble altar. Carefully avoiding the numerous booby traps, Ryou crossed the room to stand as close as he dared.
Ryou looked at his yami's lightly parted lips and watched his body rise and fall with his even breathing. This was the only time he could allow his eyes the liberty to wander over Bakura's perfection in leisure; he'd come here every night for a long time. His heart ached that he could not press his lips to Bakura's; Bakura would hate him, perhaps kill him for it. For one moment Ryou thought it might be worth it; if he could feel Bakura's lips beneath his and hold his body close just once, he wouldn't care if he died.
He reached out to trace Bakura's jawline with a fingertip, marveling at the way his yami could wrench his heart even in sleep. Bakura's eyelashes fluttered. Fearing that his yami should wake, he turned to leave, and found that he could not do so. He felt his heart stop and plunge in dread.
Bakura's fingers had closed in a viselike grip around his wrist.
Author's Note:
O_o I know what happens next, do you?
Ryou: I know! I know! I make a big, gigantic boo-boo and Bakura-chan ca-
Me: *clamps hand over Ryou's mouth* Damare, bishie! You're giving it away!
Ryou: mmph...!
Me: He's telling you to please review. *sweatdrops*
~ glossary ~
damare - shut up
*quickly scribbling another disclaimer*
Disclaimer (cont'd): and the words "I defy you, stars!" are borrowed from William Shakespeare's play "Romeo and Juliet". "Romeo and Juliet" is not copyrighted by William Shakespeare, nor do historians have proof that the plays and sonnets credited to Shakespeare were actually written by him. etc. etc. etc.
Warning(s) - Yaoi/shounen-ai, masturbation. If you don't know what that means, you are strongly advised to leave. All flames will be publicly ridiculed at your expense.
Disclaimer - I don't own YGO, but I'm writing this fic anyway for my lovely readers and reviewers. So sue me. j/k ^^
Aiite... first things first. Doumo arigatou gozaimasu for the reviews!!! ^^
Slice - hehe... so did I. In fact, Goshima-sensei will drop off the face of the earth in chapter seven. so stay tuned! (uh... gomen for the cheesiness... aheh ^_^;)
Yami's Girl710 - (and to those of you who are confused about what happened) Ryou was limping up the stairs because he'd overdone his leg curls and had really sore muscles. (see end of chapter two) If you remember those awful contraptions in the weight room at your high school or gym, you'd know what I meant. Bakura misunderstood the significance of his limp and thought Ryou had been raped. (Which he hadn't, for those of you who are still confused.)
Yami-Jen - *went ecstatic when I saw your review* just thought you'd like to know ^_^;
Chapter 5
Koiji ga Inamenai desu.
koiji ga inamenai desu - (one) cannot deny love's pathway
Ryou heard his yami's footsteps fade. He inhaled the vanilla-sandalwood scent, still fresh on his skin, to remind himself that what he thought has happened in the past half hour had actually happened. He turned onto his side, relieved to find that his muscles ached less than they had before. And that his arousal ached more.
He groaned. It didn't surprise him at all that his yami's ministrations would leave him in this condition. He wished irrationally that Bakura would finish what he'd begun and step back into the room, profess his love, then fuck like bunnies until Monday morning. Ryou laughed drily at his own naive fantasy. It was plainly impossible. Bakura didn't love him; Bakura didn't even like him. He probably couldn't care less for how Ryou felt about him. Yet... from all perspectives, it seemed as if his yami had actually tried to comfort him.
Ryou didn't understand it. At one moment his yami had been exorbitantly angry with him, and the next he's shown him more kindness than Ryou believed he was capable of. The more he thought about it, the more he came to doubt everything he'd once believed. Was Bakura really angry with him, or was he just violently overprotective? Everything seemed to point to the latter.
That would mean Bakura cared for him. Oh, but if only he did! Ryou laughed humorlessly. Heh, he told himself. Do you really believe he cares? Do you think there's even a chance he does? Of course not. You're a fool to believe these pointless musings; you hang on to every little gesture and try to interpret them as love as if you were a lovesick schoolgirl.
He sighed in resigned longing and closed his fingers around his length. At least in his fantasies Bakura loved him. At least his fantasies were in his control, even if nothing else was.
He closed his eyes and imagined that it was Bakura's hand and not his own that was stroking his cock. Did Bakura touch himself like this when he was alone? Did he think these thoughts? The image alone made Ryou moan aloud. He thrust harder into his fist, throwing his head back and lifting his hips off the mattress. The muscles of his thighs and calves tightened painfully, but he didn't care.
He felt himself grow close, and slowed his pace to a near stop. Ryou repeated his yami's name in his mind until it became a fevered mantra and he could think of nothing else. He moved slowly, bringing himself to the precipice of his control and rode it for as long as he could, then slammed his fist down in one hard, fast pump, throwing himself over the edge.
"Bakura...!" he cried aloud as he climaxed into his bandage-wrapped hand. He flushed a little; he liked the way his yami's name sounded on his lips. It sounded right, as nothing ever had.
This is where my yami's supposed to come in, he thought wistfully, cleaning his fingers as well as he could with a tissue. This is the part where he's supposed to fling open the door and accuse me of crying his name. I'm supposed to be mortified that he'd been eavesdropping, and he's supposed to comfort me and tell me that he's wanted me all this time, too...
Naturally, it didn't happen, nor did Ryou really think it would, but he liked to think it might. Ryou sank into his pillow, listening to the pounding of his heart in his ears recede. He felt empty and still unfulfilled, as if something were missing. Exhausted, he curled on his side and drifted into a dreamless sleep.
¤¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤¤
Bakura cursed himself for his weakness. What would his hikari think of him now? That he'd gone soft? Or even worse... like a five thousand year old hormone overrun queer from Egypt. He groaned inwardly.
Why did Ryou have to be so infuriating? The boy had to be perpetually near, yet out of reach, testing Bakura's self-control with each passing moment of existence.
He wanted, just once, to know the taste of Ryou's lips beneath his own, but he didn't think he could be satisfied with just one taste. He knew that if he had one taste, he'd want another, and want each kiss more than he did the last until kisses weren't enough.
Ultimately, he wanted to be the first to show Ryou the pleasures of the flesh and the first to know him fully. He could have had it today. But he didn't, he couldn't, and he didn't know why until now. Ryou had looked so tempting, yet so vulnerable... Bakura felt a sharp sweetness slice through him. This was why he couldn't just take the boy right then and there. He didn't want it like this. He didn't want it without Ryou's love.
He loved Ryou, he knew, devastated. He'd tried everything to keep it from happening, and he thought he'd succeeded. It seemed that, for him, it was never "Oh shit, I'm falling." It was always "Oh shit, I've fallen."
He swore, cursing everything from his Sennen Ring to his Duel Monster's deck. "I defy you, stars!" he cried, his voice reverberating within his soul room. The lonely sound faded away to leave him in complete silence.
Bakura wanted, for once in his life, to be completely in charge. It seemed to him that everything was out of his hands, that he had no control over what happened to him and to those around him.
He wanted too many things, but what he wanted or didn't want didn't matter. In the past, he never got what he wanted, and there were no signs that it would be any different now.
¤¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤--¤¤
Ryou opened his eyes groggily and sat up with a start. It's 7:50 already, he thought frantically. School starts in twelve minutes! I can't take a shower today... I've missed the bus already... He threw off his covers and felt a cool draft hit his bare skin. Wait a minute... why the hell am I naked?!
Gradually, he recalled the events of the past afternoon. He felt blood flush his cheeks as he pulled on his flannel pajamas and wondered how he was going to face his yami after what had happened. As he walked down the stairs, still wincing with each step, he drew the conclusion that he should just pretend nothing happened.
To his relief, Bakura wasn't downstairs. Ryou padded across the cold tile of the kitchen floor and took a frozen dinner from the freezer.
Ryou leaned listlessly against the cool kitchen counter as his meal microwaved. How could he have possibly thought it was morning? Even if it were, it would have been Saturday. This is probably the third stupid thing I've done today, he thought disgustedly. The first being all of those extra leg curls, and the second telling Bakura I gave Goshima-sensei consent to touch me.
He ate his unevenly heated linguini alone at the kitchen table, throwing his fork into the sink with a clatter and the empty box into a wastebasket. Ryou sighed deeply, wondering if this was what the rest of his life was going to be like.
Ryou walked despondently back up the stairs and brushed his teeth. He unwound the bandage around his wrist, wincing as he pulled away the last few inches that stuck to his skin with dried blood. This bandage was beyond reuse -- he tossed it into the toilet, flushed, and replaced it with a clean bandage from his first aid kit.
Slippling between his sheets, he closed his eyes, letting himself materialize in the hallway between the two soul rooms. Two doors appeared before him, equally ominous. Ryou chose the left, the one that belonged to his yami.
Hesitantly, he pushed open the door. His yami's soul room was often a literal labyrinth, as treacherous and full of pitfalls as the pyramids his yami used to rob.
In the light that flooded from the cresset lamp bracketed to the wall, Ryou watched in spellbound silence the figure that lay haphazardly on a black marble altar. Carefully avoiding the numerous booby traps, Ryou crossed the room to stand as close as he dared.
Ryou looked at his yami's lightly parted lips and watched his body rise and fall with his even breathing. This was the only time he could allow his eyes the liberty to wander over Bakura's perfection in leisure; he'd come here every night for a long time. His heart ached that he could not press his lips to Bakura's; Bakura would hate him, perhaps kill him for it. For one moment Ryou thought it might be worth it; if he could feel Bakura's lips beneath his and hold his body close just once, he wouldn't care if he died.
He reached out to trace Bakura's jawline with a fingertip, marveling at the way his yami could wrench his heart even in sleep. Bakura's eyelashes fluttered. Fearing that his yami should wake, he turned to leave, and found that he could not do so. He felt his heart stop and plunge in dread.
Bakura's fingers had closed in a viselike grip around his wrist.
Author's Note:
O_o I know what happens next, do you?
Ryou: I know! I know! I make a big, gigantic boo-boo and Bakura-chan ca-
Me: *clamps hand over Ryou's mouth* Damare, bishie! You're giving it away!
Ryou: mmph...!
Me: He's telling you to please review. *sweatdrops*
~ glossary ~
damare - shut up
*quickly scribbling another disclaimer*
Disclaimer (cont'd): and the words "I defy you, stars!" are borrowed from William Shakespeare's play "Romeo and Juliet". "Romeo and Juliet" is not copyrighted by William Shakespeare, nor do historians have proof that the plays and sonnets credited to Shakespeare were actually written by him. etc. etc. etc.