Pendulum
By: Neko-chan
A/N: As promised, here is the second (and last) installment to WA's birthday fic. Once again, I hope you enjoy it. =^^= I also apologize for how long the second part took to be written: 'Zoo's contest fic proved to be more difficult than I had originally thought, but it's finally uploaded and entered. (If you have time, please go and check it out! The story is titled "Lamb.") Also? You must join the Cult of Baka, for he sent me an Egyptian/English online dictionary. We *heart* him so much because he was able to give me a name for Thief King Bakura in Egyptian. =^^=
Itja = thief in Egyptian (pronounced i-TA)
THIS CHAPTER IS RATED "R."
DISCLAIMER: If Neko-chan owned Yuugiou, Yami no Malik would be a permanent resident under her bed. *blinks innocently* D
***
Yami no Malik snorted. "Regret fighting you? No, I think not. If anyone will have any regrets at the end of the fight, it will be you, Yami no Bakura." The darker personality of the blonde Egyptian smirked and raised an eyebrow. "Or should I call you my newest victim?"
The newly appeared person just smiled darkly in response, not even bothering to give Yami no Malik a verbal answer. Eyelashes lowered and hid the expression in his eyes as he reached down to pull a new Duel Monster card from his deck. His silver-topped head tilted to one side and his smile deepened as he placed the card on the Duel Disk.
"Yami no Malik… I've always wondered something."
The dark Egyptian raised an eyebrow at the Thief King's sardonic tone, then drew two cards from his own hand—one to go in a Monster's place; the other was either a Trap or Magic card. Once finished, he turned to the unknown figure and submitted to the bait that was proffered, asking: "And what is it, exactly, that you have wondered?"
The man paused for a moment, his expression contemplative. After several long heartbeats, his facial expression cleared and he drew his second card, placing it down upon his Duel Disk without even bothering to look at it. "I have always wondered why humanity goes on through the eons, changing the world around them without ever truly changing themselves. We are shapers, builders, destroyers. And yet we cannot find the strength or the power within ourselves to shape… ourselves. We remain the same."
The smile that he gave Yami no Malik was charming—innocent and, to a certain extent, seductive. "We paint such a pretty picture of ourselves, Yami no Malik," the silver-haired personage continued. "Such a pretty picture. And yet that picture is flawed, it's imperfect. In all of the millennia that I have been alive, I have learned one thing and one thing only."
Slightly disconcerted, Yami no Malik eyed the figure before drawing his card. Once again, he assessed the cards in his hand before selecting three. Two went to the Trap and Magic section, the third joined its brethren in the Monsters section. "And… what is it that you have learned, Yami no Bakura?"
Yami no Malik's opponent smiled slightly, then activated his Magic card—Dark Hole. The blonde Egyptian scowled darkly and quickly flipped up his own Magic card, Magical Space Typhoon. But before Yami no Malik was given the chance to gloat, the mysterious person barked a quick laugh and flipped up another one of the cards that had been previously set: his own Magical Space Typhoon. That settled, all of the Monster cards on the field were sent to the Graveyard, Yami no Malik hissing obscenities and curses under his breath.
"I have learned, over the course of many centuries while hidden within the Sennen Ring, never to take anything for granted," the scarred man began. He smirked darkly, then flipped his last and final card—a Trap card. All of the Monsters that had been sent to the Graveyard would have their total attack points halved… then taken directly from the Life Points of the opponent. It was direct damage of the ultimate kind. Yami no Malik stared in silent horror as his Life Points declined, until they finally stopped at zero.
"And I have learned over the millennia, my dear Egyptian, that evil never truly dies—it just festers and rots. Isn't that such a grand thing to know for creatures such as you and I?"
The blonde yami stared down at the screen that showed his Life Points, then finally looked up, a thoughtful expression upon his face. He had lost. He shouldn't have lost. He won—always—no matter what. And yet… he had lost against the true spirit of the Sennen Ring, someone that had just now revealed himself for who he truly was. "Who are you?"
Silver hair glittered like a gilded waterfall in the moonlight that came down upon the Battle Ship. He tilted his head to one side, then smiled broadly, gray eyes dark with shadows. Many things could be said about that smile, but that it was a kind smile would never be used as a description for the smile. "I am the Pharaoh's enemy," the scarred man began. "When both the Pharaoh and I were alive, I was the King of Thieves—I was known as the Tomb Robber. Now? Well… now you may call me Itja."
Yami no Malik laughed, his lips twisting up in amusement. Raising a sardonic eyebrow, he commented: "Hn. Once a thief, always a thief. I've heard this saying many times before, but I guess—in your case, at least—it's true, yes?"
Itja shrugged, nonplussed. "Once a thief, always a thief—such a clichéd saying, don't you think? So then, I have a saying for you: Once a sadist, always a sadist. Would that particular saying be applied to you, Malik?"
The dark Egyptian sneered at the name that Itja had given to him. "That is the omote's name—never mine. You may call me Ishtar, if you must call me anything at all. As for the saying…" He smirked, the smile cruel upon his lips. "A sadist, yes. But aren't we all? Everyone else is just better at hiding it—and finding 'important' reasons to hide their sadism. As for myself… I am who I am, who I was created to be. If you would call me a sadist, then I suppose that's what I truly am."
The Thief King gave a short bark of laughter. "An honest man; this is something I've never encountered before, not once in all of the millennia that I've resided in the Sennen Ring. And yet… Hn. Honesty and deception—so closely linked. I've always thought that they were just different words for the same thing. Even after all of these years, I have yet to discover anything that would change that particular opinion. Everything is just an illusion… including you, Ishtar."
Yami no Malik's smirk turned into a frown. He was puzzled, but would never openly admit it. His dark purple eyes narrowed in annoyance as he shot a dark glare at Itja. "What are you talking about, thief?"
The Thief King's footsteps rang softly across the Battle Ship's platform as he made his way closer to the blonde Egyptian. Yami no Malik took a step backwards, legs tensing as he readied for flight. Itja ignored this, though he did take note of it, smiling slightly in dark amusement..
His eyelids lowered, hiding the emotions that rose to the surface in his eyes. As he came ever closer to Yami no Malik, the bronze Egyptian was surprised by just how much of a resemblance the Tomb Robber had with a cobra—eyes hooded, slowly making its way towards its prey, always ready to strike if need be. Yami no Malik and his omote had encountered many cobras while living in Egypt; they both knew the snake species well. Ishtar didn't know what this particular cobra was hunting, but he would never allow himself to become its prey.
Itja finally stopped in front of Yami no Malik, their bodies softly brushing against one another in certain places. He looked up, his eyelids rising as he did so. The blonde Egyptian shuddered in something close to fear as the emotions that the Thief King had previously veiled swam through slate-gray irises, coming to the foreground before fading away, once more, into the background.
"You and I are both nothing more than phantasms, touching the world here and there, corrupting few and killing many. That is our job and that is our purpose here. Yet… we will only linger, eventually fading away to the sway of the pendulum that is time. We are illusions—nightmares to be remembered, to be feared for eternity, but not living forever."
"You lie!" Yami no Malik hissed, his right hand darting forward to strike at the silver-haired man. He started in surprise when the Tomb Robber caught his wrist in mid-strike, gripping his hand tight enough to bruise. The thief smiled darkly and tightened his grip, grinding Ishtar's wrist bones against one another. The other personality winced slightly, but his eyes narrowed in fury at what was being done to him.
"I do not lie, Ishtar," the thief began, leaning forward to whisper in Yami no Malik's ear. Their bodies finally touched completely, hip to hip, chest to chest—the rough material that made up Itja's clothing rubbed against Ishtar's skin in some places and the blonde shivered. Itja leaned even closer and his lips brushed the blonde Egyptian's ear, and Ishtar shuddered once again at the touch… and at the malice that he heard in Itja's voice.
"I do not lie," the thief continued, still whispering softly. Every word brushed his lips against Yami no Malik's ear; the blonde averted his eyes and tried to ignore what was being said to him. "I speak the truth, and you know it. Yet… if you want to change the truth, change your destiny, then listen to what I have to say to you: In order to live forever, in order to be feared forever, you must achieve God's power. The only way to do that is to steal the Sennen Puzzle. Through it, all things are possible. And in order to steal the Sennen Puzzle, you must kill the Pharaoh and his small aibou."
Ishtar opened his mouth to speak, but Itja bit viscously down on Yami no Malik's ear, hard enough to draw blood. The blonde Egyptian snarled in pain, but the Tomb Robber ignored this and continued, "Just think: Nightmares which last for all of eternity. No escape. No hope. No Light. A world covered in Darkness."
Malik's darker personality cut himself off in mid-curse. He paused, ignoring the pain that throbbed through his wounded ear, and considered Itja's offer. It was then that he realized that something was missing: The Thief King was offering him something that the other knew that he could not refuse. It was a bargain—and yet, the tomb robber never mentioned what he wanted in return. "If I agree to this," Yami no Malik began, choosing each word carefully, "what is it that you ask in return? Surely you aren't doing this just for my sake."
Itja chortled to himself in amusement, tongue darting out to lick the wound on Yami no Malik's ear. The dark personality hissed slightly in pain, but endured that sharp prick of pain without any other complaint. The Thief King smiled maliciously as he took note of this. "Truthfully? I want you."
There was a long pause. Finally: "…why?"
Another dark chuckle came from the Tomb Robber as he arched his hips into Yami no Malik's own, fingers from both hands trailing up a tank top-covered chest, passing a starkly etched collarbone, to finally fist in tarnished gold hair. "I want you because you're what everyone else fears the most. You're just as sadistic as I am, and you want the same things that I want. You're evil and cruel and you show mercy to no one. You don't deny who you are; you relish in your nature. You're beautiful and shining and pretty, in every dark way imaginable. I'm a thief—I collect pretty things. And I want you for my collection."
Ishtar's eyes narrowed and he scowled deeply. "I am not some trinket for you to keep in your… collection. I will not allow it."
The Thief King laughed, a rich, deep, rumbling sound. "Oh, didn't you know? You never had a choice in this. And, besides it's too late to say no. I've already made up my mind and you have no hope of changing it. You will be mine—and I will do everything in my power to make sure that you remain mine."
"No—" Ishtar's snarled protest was abruptly cut off when Itja's hands tightened in his blonde hair, dragging his head down to meet greedy and dominating lips. Yami no Malik growled in anger and attempted to bite the Tomb Robber, but Itja yanked cruelly at strands of his hair, distracting him momentarily.
Yami no Malik snarled in frustration and, once again, attempted to bite the Tomb Robber. This time, the tug on his hair actually hurt, making him yelp in surprise and true pain. The blonde Egyptian struggled against Itja's strong grasp, tried to pull away, mouth opening to shriek a curse at the thief. Itja took advantage of this, tongue darting forward to trace Yami no Malik's lower lip. When all Ishtar did was growl in fury at this invasion, Itja smirked against the darker personality's lips, then traveled deeper within his mouth. His tongue brushed lightly against Yami no Malik's; the blonde recoiled at the touch, but the Tomb Robber's grip in his hair tightened in punishment.
Their tongues brushed for a second time, then Itja deepened the kiss further.
Yami no Malik could not escape—the Tomb Robber had made sure of that. And, for the first time ever, the darker personality was at the mercy of someone else… and the blonde was not happy with that particular fact. As the Thief King continued to deepen their kiss, Ishtar finally realized just how good he was at hating another human being. He finally realized just how easy it was to hate another.
"I will give you your world of Darkness, Ishtar, but you will be mine," was the calm reply when finally Itja pulled back for breath many heartbeats later.
Ishtar smiled in answer, eyes hooded as he stared down at the slightly smaller man. The Tomb Robber shivered slightly in reaction to the cruelty that curled Yami no Malik's lips into the smile that he gave Itja. "I will have my Darkness, you will have my body to do with as you please, but I will eventually have your life. I will kill you, Itja, and use your blood to bathe in as I crow my victory to the obsidian skies."
"Eternity is a long time to hate someone, Ishtar," Itja commented drolly, apprehension momentarily forgotten.
"But I'm so very good at hating—that's essentially what I am, after all. Hatred."
"Hn. That's true…." The reply was cheery, but the emotion lacing the comment was dark. But, at the moment, the Thief King didn't particularly care if Yami no Malik hated him—the silver-haired man finally had the other at his mercy… and he intended for it to remain that way for a long, long time.
One hand snaked down from the back of Yami no Malik's head, tracing the outline of the blonde's collarbone through his thin tank top. Itja smiled slightly when he felt Ishtar tense, then continued his hand's journey further down the blonde's body. He finally stopped at the edge of Yami no Malik's khaki pants—there was a long moment as he contemplated what he should do, but discarded the first option that he had thought of.
Instead, the silver-haired man's hand slipped up beneath Ishtar's black tank top, tracing the corded stomach muscles. The other's flesh quivered beneath his questing touch and Itja smiled in satisfaction.
Resist me, reject me, hate me with your whole being—that makes it all that much better for me when you finally submit, was his shadowed thoughts as he continued on his journey. His fingers finally encountered one of Ishtar's nipples and it pebbled beneath his touch. Itja traced his fingers around the areole and the nipple hardened further.
Practically purring in delight over Ishtar's response—even though Itja knew that the blonde Egyptian was trying to fight against him and his body's natural responses to the stimuli—the thief darted forward, his legs capturing and twining around Yami no Malik's, sweeping the darker personality to the ground. The Tomb Robber quickly followed, straddling Ishtar when the yami was completely on the ground. One of the blonde's legs was trapped between two of his own; the rest of his body was strategically placed across Ishtar's hips so that the darker personality could not move his lower body.
"Mine—all mine…." was the smug comment as the rest of the tank top was tugged from khaki pants and pulled up to reveal his possession's chest to his hungry gaze. One hand remained fisted in Yami no Malik's hair, effectively pinning the man in place.
Itja leaned forward to lightly flick his tongue over Ishtar's other nipple. It, too, budded and he smiled in pleasure before lavishing it with mouth, tongue, and teeth. His other free hand traveled down Yami no Malik's stomach, tracing the hard contours of the blonde's abdomen, then reached the upper edge to the blonde's pants. The Thief King paused momentarily… and slipped his hand underneath the rough cloth. Itja purred once again to himself when Ishtar's hips rose to meet his touch.
Never once did Itja look up into Yami no Malik's face—and thus, the Thief King never saw the deep, dark, fathomless hatred that was hidden in the back of Ishtar's gaze.
Yami no Malik could hate for a very, very long time.
It was something that the Tomb Robber would soon come to realize.
~Owari~
::End::
A/N: Once again, I am so sorry for taking so long on your update, WA. I truly didn't mean to take so long. x_x;; It's just… I never realized just how hard Thief King Bakura/Yami no Malik was to write. (Not even gonna mention how hard it was to write Yami no Malik as uke…. P) I'm also sorry that it didn't turn out to be as lime-y and as yaoi-ish and I had originally planned. I wanted this to be my first lemon, but I got to a certain point… and I discovered that I'm still not ready to write lemons. I'm very sorry, WA. ^^;; I still hope that you enjoyed your birthday fic (as late as it was!) nonetheless. *hugs*
P.S.—When stuck on a story, Linkin Park, Evanescence, Savage Garden/Darren Hayes, Amici Forever, Loreena McKennitt, Josh Groban, and Gackt are godsends. And yes, that list should tell you just how desperate I was to finish this fic for you, WA. x_x;;
