A/N: *faints* Lemon Fluff reviewed this story. Lemon Fluff
READ this story. *weeps with joy* This is as cool as the time
I made Akira Ichijouji's favorites list.
*author carefully pries r*a*d*i*a*n*y off of herself* I'm updating, I'm updating! Hm, looks like Katsuya/Seto got the most votes lemon-wise, so for now it seems they'll be the first ones to hit the sheets, barring sudden inspiration, the wrath of God, or more votes. However, Slice was being clever and guessed the implied couple, so since I can't give her candy with the Internet in the way, I gave her more Ryou and Bakura flirty-ness instead. ^__^
. . . Yami talks like Gollum in this fic. -_-;;
*
*
"Did You Want Breakfast In Bed?"
*
*
"I hates you great much already," Yami said flatly as Ishtar handed him a heavy container of water.
"Nice to meet you too," Ishtar replied with a poorly muffled snicker, leaning back over the well to pull up a fresh bucket. "You have really crappy grammar, you know that? And your accent is hellish."
"Me still speaks Egypt better than you baka speak own birth tongue!" Yami hissed darkly, glaring at the taller man.
"Well, I will give you that," Ishtar admitted. He pulled the bucket over and carefully poured its contents into a second pitcher.
Yami gave the one in his arms a dubious look. It was brightly painted with truly demented-looking whorls and circles and glazed so thickly that he could see his reflection in it. It was also definitely not typical Egyptian art. There was no way he'd ever have been able to sell it, and no reason to have made it, but it had clearly been labored over. Ishtar had even signed it. Yami had never met an artist who signed his work before- he hadn't even known there WERE any.
But by contrast, the pitcher Ishtar was filling was painted with a very detailed scene of Osiris's death at the hands of Set. Though it and the pitcher had been just as meticulously created as the one Yami held, the general couldn't believe that the other had been able to make both.
"Who make this?" Yami asked suspiciously, tapping a finger on the side of his pitcher as Ishtar dropped the bucket down into the well again.
"I did, of course," the artist replied with a laugh. "I make all my own things."
"But why you make something like this one?" Yami demanded, frustrated at discovering what appeared to be an art style unto Ishtar alone, as opposed to belonging to a country.
"Because I can, baka!" Ishtar cried, bursting into laughter. Yami just frowned at him.
"Having fun, Ishtar?" a dry voice inquired suddenly. Yami jerked in surprise and automatically reached for a sword he no longer had.
"Calm down," Ishtar told him, laughing again. "Yami-kun, this is my Malik. Malik-kun, this is my Yami. Make nice-nice." Yami glared darkly at the new presence, a thin, sharp-featured blond wearing a sour expression. He looked like a slightly neater and much less friendly version of Ishtar. "We're not related, before you comment on the resemblance," Ishtar added in amusement.
"You bought a slave at today's market?" Malik looked irritated. "Isn't that chalky brat enough for you?"
"Technically, I don't own him any more," Ishtar corrected with a faint shrug. "He's more than paid for himself."
"Slaves can't buy themselves!" Malik yelled in exasperation, crossing his arms and fuming.
"Well, he did," Ishtar replied with a grin, leaning back against the well. "What are you doing out of the palace anyway?"
"Avoiding my sister's new slave," Malik admitted gloomily, clearly embarrassed. "He doesn't like me very much. I don't think he understands that Isis and I are siblings."
"You run from slave?" Yami snorted in disgust. "What for? Why not whip?"
Malik sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, let's see," he began, ticking off a list on his fingers, "he's taller than me, heavier than me, better built than me, can hide knives in about three square inches of loincloth, and, best of all, the Pharaoh thinks he's just about the neatest thing since the invention of the pyramid."
"Really?" Ishtar gave him a curious look. "Then why does Isis still own him?"
"Our lord gave him to her," Malik explained with a shrug. "He adores the man, but- well, you know the Pharaoh. He just doesn't keep pets. Probably has more servants than slaves, now that I think of it."
"Sure he do," Yami said in disgust. "I bets he even treat slaves good."
"Actually . . . " Malik gave a slightly self-conscious laugh. "Compared to most masters, he does."
"The Pharaoh is a bit screwy," Ishtar explained in a mischievous whisper, twirling a finger in the air next to his head.
"Ishtar-san!" Yami looked horrified, and quickly checked to make sure no one was close enough to have overheard. "What if you be heard?!"
"I'll get my ears boxed by Malik-kun's onee-sama for dissing her 'dear' pharaoh," he answered cheerfully.
Yami stared at him. " . . . you's joking," he said finally.
"No, she'd do it," Malik agreed, shaking his head. "She's violent like that."
"Not what me MEANS!" Yami groaned, fumbling for words. "Means- means- how it say-ed? Means, would not Pharaoh-sama kills your life for gettings bad insults?"
"Eh?" Ishtar gave him a blank look.
"Well, he might make us listen to one of his 'can't we all be friends?' rants," Malik mused thoughtfully, "but then again, he does that anyway."
Yami looked like he was about to faint. "You makes jokes," he said in disbelief. "King at home kills life if say he be even small bit unfair! Throw my captains Anzu and Honda in dungeon for two week straight because they not wants whip child who laugh at king's clothes! Then punish lieutenant Ryou for not cut off other child's hand when it starving and steal stale loaf bread, and not even able to BEGIN explain what he does to me and Katsuya when he finded us in-!"
Suddenly he turned bright red and clapped a hand over his mouth. Ishtar and Malik, simultaneously sensing weakness, shared predatory grins.
"Ohhh?" Ishtar drawled with an arrogant little smirk, voice dripping with sugar. "Where did he find you?"
"Perhaps in a brothel?" Malik suggested wickedly.
"Perhaps in an enemy camp?" Ishtar added.
"Dancing in the royal fountains!" Malik exclaimed, getting into it.
"Running naked through the throne room!" Ishtar continued triumphantly.
"Perhaps in each other!" they crowed in unison, both grabbing the other's hands in delight.
Yami's furious blush darkened to nearly purple. "Urusai!" he yelled, and threw the contents of his pitcher over the pair.
"Hey, watch it!" Ishtar sputtered. "Water is rarer here than where you're from!"
The general blinked and looked guiltily at his empty jug. "Shit, that being right- I no even thinks," he muttered.
"I'm not complaining," Malik purred, raking a hand across Ishtar's soaked chest. The artist's already half-sheer white loincloth now left about as much to the imagination as thin air.
"Whore," Ishtar accused with a slightly feral grin.
"Says the one who's wearing less than the slave," Malik countered smugly, giving the other's loincloth a sharp tug.
"You is both crazy freak-childs," Yami informed the two flatly. They looked rather flattered.
"So, where is Bakura anyway?" Malik asked suddenly. "Isn't he back yet?"
"Came home today, actually," Ishtar replied with a happy smile. "He brought this one and another."
"An ex-slave bought slaves?" Malik said dubiously, raising an eyebrow at his companion.
"Personally, I think he stole them, but basically yes," Ishtar agreed merrily. "He seemed rather enamored of the other one, so we left them to screw and came to get water for the clay. It's getting much too dry."
"Oi! Baka, you say you wants talkings!" Yami yelled at him angrily.
"Eh?" Ishtar just looked at him for a moment; then understanding dawned on his face. "Oh, no- that was a lie!" he explained cheerfully. "Bakura-chan's been repressed; he deserves a good lay."
"If not knowing Ryou-kun be such hentai anyway, I would takes offenses for him," Yami retorted sourly.
"Hai, hai. They're probably making the beast with two backs even as we speak," Ishtar concurred, grinning faintly.
*
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*
"Ryou," Bakura groaned breathlessly. "Oh Ra, Ryou . . ."
"/I'm not THAT good./" Ryou blushed with pleasure and smiled.
"/SO good,/" Bakura moaned, eyes fluttering shut in sheer ecstasy.
"/You act like you've never had a home-cooked meal in your life, Bakura-kun,/" Ryou said, amused, as he reclaimed the ladle from his companion. "/Now sit down and let me finish, onegai. The stew still needs to simmer a little longer./"
"/But it tastes so good!/" Bakura protested weakly, making a grab for the ladle.
"/No!/" Ryou scolded, smacking the other's knuckles with it. "/Be patient!/"
"/But I want to eat it./" Bakura sulked.
"/You can,/" Ryou replied with another smile. "/It's all for you/- yakusoku da."
"/It's really a promise?/" Bakura asked hopefully.
"/Of course!/" Ryou beamed at him.
"/Then why can't I have any yet?!/" he yelled.
"/Because I'm tormenting you,/" Ryou said innocently, stirring the stew. "/I love this house,/" he added a moment later, looking around wistfully. "/It's so beautiful./"
"/Better not repeat that too often, or Ishtar will molest you in his glee,/" Bakura told him with a smirk.
"/I'd just have to distract him with your sexy body,/" Ryou said with a purr, rubbing his nose against the other's.
Bakura flushed. "/He wouldn't be interested with you around,/" he retorted teasingly.
Ryou's smile brightened, and he nuzzled up a little closer to the other. "/You should watch what you say too, Bakura-kun,/" he murmured in the other's ear, skipping his finger's up said Bakura-kun's chest. "/Because flattery gets you EVERYwhere./"
"Ano . . ." Bakura blushed darkly. "Hentai!"
"Hai, hai!" Ryou agreed with a small chuckle. "/But what are you going to do about it?/"
Bakura mock-growled and pulled the other boy flat against him, grinning wickedly when he saw Ryou's eyes briefly widen in surprise. "/Gotcha,/" he declared smugly.
"Sugoi," Ryou answered glibly, his own mouth forming a similarly wicked grin, and Bakura pressed his lips the soldier's neck and bit. "/Oh!/" Ryou gasped. "/Oh- oh MY . . . /" The soldier's eyes fell shut as Bakura flicked his tongue over the nape of his neck, the temptation of the food forgotten in favor of the much more tempting cook.
"You are so lovely," Bakura murmured breathily, splaying a hand against the other's chest.
Ryou sighed, but ignored the brief spouting of Egyptian. It wasn't like he really needed to hear pillow talk at this point anyway. Though . . . it would've been nice if they didn't have to worry about things like that. Even little things like that could be so disturbing.
"Bakura-kun," he murmured softly, "/about that room . . .? /"
"/Thought you'd NEVER ask,/" Bakura purred.
*
*
* tbc . . . *
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*
A/N: I was going to continue last chapter's scene with Seto, Jou, and Yuugi, but I thought I'd be stuffing too much important information in for just one chapter. Fortunately for you guys, that means I've already started that scene and the next installment will be out faster than this one was . . . plus, it has Anzu! Barring sudden acts of inspiration, anyway. ^_^;;
*
*
. : i can see you in the eye of the hurricane . . . : .
*author carefully pries r*a*d*i*a*n*y off of herself* I'm updating, I'm updating! Hm, looks like Katsuya/Seto got the most votes lemon-wise, so for now it seems they'll be the first ones to hit the sheets, barring sudden inspiration, the wrath of God, or more votes. However, Slice was being clever and guessed the implied couple, so since I can't give her candy with the Internet in the way, I gave her more Ryou and Bakura flirty-ness instead. ^__^
. . . Yami talks like Gollum in this fic. -_-;;
*
*
"Did You Want Breakfast In Bed?"
*
*
"I hates you great much already," Yami said flatly as Ishtar handed him a heavy container of water.
"Nice to meet you too," Ishtar replied with a poorly muffled snicker, leaning back over the well to pull up a fresh bucket. "You have really crappy grammar, you know that? And your accent is hellish."
"Me still speaks Egypt better than you baka speak own birth tongue!" Yami hissed darkly, glaring at the taller man.
"Well, I will give you that," Ishtar admitted. He pulled the bucket over and carefully poured its contents into a second pitcher.
Yami gave the one in his arms a dubious look. It was brightly painted with truly demented-looking whorls and circles and glazed so thickly that he could see his reflection in it. It was also definitely not typical Egyptian art. There was no way he'd ever have been able to sell it, and no reason to have made it, but it had clearly been labored over. Ishtar had even signed it. Yami had never met an artist who signed his work before- he hadn't even known there WERE any.
But by contrast, the pitcher Ishtar was filling was painted with a very detailed scene of Osiris's death at the hands of Set. Though it and the pitcher had been just as meticulously created as the one Yami held, the general couldn't believe that the other had been able to make both.
"Who make this?" Yami asked suspiciously, tapping a finger on the side of his pitcher as Ishtar dropped the bucket down into the well again.
"I did, of course," the artist replied with a laugh. "I make all my own things."
"But why you make something like this one?" Yami demanded, frustrated at discovering what appeared to be an art style unto Ishtar alone, as opposed to belonging to a country.
"Because I can, baka!" Ishtar cried, bursting into laughter. Yami just frowned at him.
"Having fun, Ishtar?" a dry voice inquired suddenly. Yami jerked in surprise and automatically reached for a sword he no longer had.
"Calm down," Ishtar told him, laughing again. "Yami-kun, this is my Malik. Malik-kun, this is my Yami. Make nice-nice." Yami glared darkly at the new presence, a thin, sharp-featured blond wearing a sour expression. He looked like a slightly neater and much less friendly version of Ishtar. "We're not related, before you comment on the resemblance," Ishtar added in amusement.
"You bought a slave at today's market?" Malik looked irritated. "Isn't that chalky brat enough for you?"
"Technically, I don't own him any more," Ishtar corrected with a faint shrug. "He's more than paid for himself."
"Slaves can't buy themselves!" Malik yelled in exasperation, crossing his arms and fuming.
"Well, he did," Ishtar replied with a grin, leaning back against the well. "What are you doing out of the palace anyway?"
"Avoiding my sister's new slave," Malik admitted gloomily, clearly embarrassed. "He doesn't like me very much. I don't think he understands that Isis and I are siblings."
"You run from slave?" Yami snorted in disgust. "What for? Why not whip?"
Malik sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Well, let's see," he began, ticking off a list on his fingers, "he's taller than me, heavier than me, better built than me, can hide knives in about three square inches of loincloth, and, best of all, the Pharaoh thinks he's just about the neatest thing since the invention of the pyramid."
"Really?" Ishtar gave him a curious look. "Then why does Isis still own him?"
"Our lord gave him to her," Malik explained with a shrug. "He adores the man, but- well, you know the Pharaoh. He just doesn't keep pets. Probably has more servants than slaves, now that I think of it."
"Sure he do," Yami said in disgust. "I bets he even treat slaves good."
"Actually . . . " Malik gave a slightly self-conscious laugh. "Compared to most masters, he does."
"The Pharaoh is a bit screwy," Ishtar explained in a mischievous whisper, twirling a finger in the air next to his head.
"Ishtar-san!" Yami looked horrified, and quickly checked to make sure no one was close enough to have overheard. "What if you be heard?!"
"I'll get my ears boxed by Malik-kun's onee-sama for dissing her 'dear' pharaoh," he answered cheerfully.
Yami stared at him. " . . . you's joking," he said finally.
"No, she'd do it," Malik agreed, shaking his head. "She's violent like that."
"Not what me MEANS!" Yami groaned, fumbling for words. "Means- means- how it say-ed? Means, would not Pharaoh-sama kills your life for gettings bad insults?"
"Eh?" Ishtar gave him a blank look.
"Well, he might make us listen to one of his 'can't we all be friends?' rants," Malik mused thoughtfully, "but then again, he does that anyway."
Yami looked like he was about to faint. "You makes jokes," he said in disbelief. "King at home kills life if say he be even small bit unfair! Throw my captains Anzu and Honda in dungeon for two week straight because they not wants whip child who laugh at king's clothes! Then punish lieutenant Ryou for not cut off other child's hand when it starving and steal stale loaf bread, and not even able to BEGIN explain what he does to me and Katsuya when he finded us in-!"
Suddenly he turned bright red and clapped a hand over his mouth. Ishtar and Malik, simultaneously sensing weakness, shared predatory grins.
"Ohhh?" Ishtar drawled with an arrogant little smirk, voice dripping with sugar. "Where did he find you?"
"Perhaps in a brothel?" Malik suggested wickedly.
"Perhaps in an enemy camp?" Ishtar added.
"Dancing in the royal fountains!" Malik exclaimed, getting into it.
"Running naked through the throne room!" Ishtar continued triumphantly.
"Perhaps in each other!" they crowed in unison, both grabbing the other's hands in delight.
Yami's furious blush darkened to nearly purple. "Urusai!" he yelled, and threw the contents of his pitcher over the pair.
"Hey, watch it!" Ishtar sputtered. "Water is rarer here than where you're from!"
The general blinked and looked guiltily at his empty jug. "Shit, that being right- I no even thinks," he muttered.
"I'm not complaining," Malik purred, raking a hand across Ishtar's soaked chest. The artist's already half-sheer white loincloth now left about as much to the imagination as thin air.
"Whore," Ishtar accused with a slightly feral grin.
"Says the one who's wearing less than the slave," Malik countered smugly, giving the other's loincloth a sharp tug.
"You is both crazy freak-childs," Yami informed the two flatly. They looked rather flattered.
"So, where is Bakura anyway?" Malik asked suddenly. "Isn't he back yet?"
"Came home today, actually," Ishtar replied with a happy smile. "He brought this one and another."
"An ex-slave bought slaves?" Malik said dubiously, raising an eyebrow at his companion.
"Personally, I think he stole them, but basically yes," Ishtar agreed merrily. "He seemed rather enamored of the other one, so we left them to screw and came to get water for the clay. It's getting much too dry."
"Oi! Baka, you say you wants talkings!" Yami yelled at him angrily.
"Eh?" Ishtar just looked at him for a moment; then understanding dawned on his face. "Oh, no- that was a lie!" he explained cheerfully. "Bakura-chan's been repressed; he deserves a good lay."
"If not knowing Ryou-kun be such hentai anyway, I would takes offenses for him," Yami retorted sourly.
"Hai, hai. They're probably making the beast with two backs even as we speak," Ishtar concurred, grinning faintly.
*
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*
"Ryou," Bakura groaned breathlessly. "Oh Ra, Ryou . . ."
"/I'm not THAT good./" Ryou blushed with pleasure and smiled.
"/SO good,/" Bakura moaned, eyes fluttering shut in sheer ecstasy.
"/You act like you've never had a home-cooked meal in your life, Bakura-kun,/" Ryou said, amused, as he reclaimed the ladle from his companion. "/Now sit down and let me finish, onegai. The stew still needs to simmer a little longer./"
"/But it tastes so good!/" Bakura protested weakly, making a grab for the ladle.
"/No!/" Ryou scolded, smacking the other's knuckles with it. "/Be patient!/"
"/But I want to eat it./" Bakura sulked.
"/You can,/" Ryou replied with another smile. "/It's all for you/- yakusoku da."
"/It's really a promise?/" Bakura asked hopefully.
"/Of course!/" Ryou beamed at him.
"/Then why can't I have any yet?!/" he yelled.
"/Because I'm tormenting you,/" Ryou said innocently, stirring the stew. "/I love this house,/" he added a moment later, looking around wistfully. "/It's so beautiful./"
"/Better not repeat that too often, or Ishtar will molest you in his glee,/" Bakura told him with a smirk.
"/I'd just have to distract him with your sexy body,/" Ryou said with a purr, rubbing his nose against the other's.
Bakura flushed. "/He wouldn't be interested with you around,/" he retorted teasingly.
Ryou's smile brightened, and he nuzzled up a little closer to the other. "/You should watch what you say too, Bakura-kun,/" he murmured in the other's ear, skipping his finger's up said Bakura-kun's chest. "/Because flattery gets you EVERYwhere./"
"Ano . . ." Bakura blushed darkly. "Hentai!"
"Hai, hai!" Ryou agreed with a small chuckle. "/But what are you going to do about it?/"
Bakura mock-growled and pulled the other boy flat against him, grinning wickedly when he saw Ryou's eyes briefly widen in surprise. "/Gotcha,/" he declared smugly.
"Sugoi," Ryou answered glibly, his own mouth forming a similarly wicked grin, and Bakura pressed his lips the soldier's neck and bit. "/Oh!/" Ryou gasped. "/Oh- oh MY . . . /" The soldier's eyes fell shut as Bakura flicked his tongue over the nape of his neck, the temptation of the food forgotten in favor of the much more tempting cook.
"You are so lovely," Bakura murmured breathily, splaying a hand against the other's chest.
Ryou sighed, but ignored the brief spouting of Egyptian. It wasn't like he really needed to hear pillow talk at this point anyway. Though . . . it would've been nice if they didn't have to worry about things like that. Even little things like that could be so disturbing.
"Bakura-kun," he murmured softly, "/about that room . . .? /"
"/Thought you'd NEVER ask,/" Bakura purred.
*
*
* tbc . . . *
*
*
A/N: I was going to continue last chapter's scene with Seto, Jou, and Yuugi, but I thought I'd be stuffing too much important information in for just one chapter. Fortunately for you guys, that means I've already started that scene and the next installment will be out faster than this one was . . . plus, it has Anzu! Barring sudden acts of inspiration, anyway. ^_^;;
*
*
. : i can see you in the eye of the hurricane . . . : .
