Disclaimer – If I owned them, do you honestly think I would be writing this? frowns at Bakura as he growls Fine, fine . . . geesh, picky muse. I do not own YuGiOh, any of its characters, nor any of the wonderful world that Kazuki Takahashi created. I merely play in it. I'm not making any money on this, I'm merely doing it for other people's enjoyment and my own perverse pleasure. glances at her beloved Tomb Robber There, you happy now?!
Author's Notes – You know, I have to wonder . . . is it a bad thing to stay up until 2am finishing a chapter for you people so that you don't come after me with sharp knifes and torches?
Bakura – You'd enjoy that, and you know it.
Drac – shut up, thief. They don't need to know that. returns to readers Anyway . . . ignore him. He's grouchy cause it took so long for him to get somewhere. As I was saying, I suppose it can't be all that bad for me to forego sleep in order to write . . . this late at night, it's the only time I can really write and be able to fully concentrate on it. My hubby is safely tucked away where he can't try to read over my shoulder, and all my little hellions are out like little lightbulbs. Gods, it's no wonder I'm a night owl.
So . . . one chapter to go. You'll just have to read this chapter to see if Yami and Bakura have pulled their heads out of their asses, now won't you? chuckles demonically while rubbing hands together So read away . . . and don't forget to review.
Oh, and as of this moment, I am starting a fanlist. If you would like regular updates of what I'm working on (which is about five different stories) or would like to make requests of me, or challenge me to something, make sure I have your email and tell me you want in. I'll be glad to add you.
And now, on with the torture! Umm . . . I mean . . . yeah, just go read! pounces on Bakura And now, you damn ignorant ass, you need a lesson . . . drags Bakura off to her dungeon
Chapter 11 – On the Eleventh Day of Christmas – Eleven Eternal Seconds
The next morning arrived at the Motou house, accompanied by the rapping of knuckles on the kitchen door. Joey awoke with a shudder, hearing the violent pounding and swearing softly before rising and sliding into his boxers, making sure neither of his bed mates awoke.
Yami, while a bit warmer, still shuddered every now and then in his sleep, the golden skin still slightly flushed with fever. Yugi was completely unconscious, cuddled up tightly to his dark's back as if he would press himself through the satin skin of his other.
Padding out of the room and down the stairs, he stalked to the kitchen door and threw it open, amber eyes widening in surprise when he beheld Ryou and Bakura standing there.
"Good morning, Joey. How is Yami?" Ryou asked quietly as the two white haired men stepped into the kitchen as Joey stepped back.
"He's been better," Joey muttered, eyeing Bakura with a great deal of disfavor. If Bakura had been in a livelier mood, he might have torn the blonde's throat out for that look, but at the moment his mind was on other things, so he settled for a glare and a snarl before taking off his coat and shoes.
Preoccupied with the thief, Joey jumped slightly when he felt a light touch on his arm. He glanced down at Ryou, who simply shook his head silently, telling Joey without words to leave it alone.
"What brings the two of you over so early in the morning?" the blonde asked instead, directing his question to Ryou. He was somewhat startled when it was the darker half that answered.
"Yugi called last night and told us to come over," the thief growled. "So here we are. Where is the Pharaoh's hikari, by the way?" Joey glanced at him, amber eyes darkening slightly with anger before answering.
"With his dark. We had to sleep with him to keep his core temperature up last night." He gave an inner smile of satisfaction as his barb hit home, the thief's eyes widening slightly before they narrowed into slits of jealousy and anger. "He's still not in the safe zone yet . . . I should get back up there . . ." He allowed the smile to show through when Bakura snarled at him before stalking off, presumably to go upstairs himself.
"You shouldn't bait him like that, Joey," Ryou murmured, sinking into a chair. "He's not exactly in the most stable of moods."
"He's the one that caused this shit," the amber eyed teenager replied harshly. "He deserves whatever he gets." Ryou sighed, shaking his head slightly at the taller youth's vehemence.
"Trust me Joey . . . anything you do or say to him right now can't even begin to touch him compared to the shit he's been heaping on himself since yesterday," Ryou said quietly. "We . . . were wrong about what happened. He didn't use Yami . . . rather, he drank so he would have the courage to make his move. He really does love Yami."
"Couldn't prove it by me," Joey snapped back, settling into his own chair with his arms crossed over his chest. "If he loved him, he would have done things differently." Ryou's eyes widened, the chocolate gaze going over his shoulder in shock just before Joey stiffened, the glint of a knife out of the corner of one eye barely giving him warning before he found the cold metal at his throat.
"I don't have to prove it to you, Wheeler," Bakura snarled in his ear menacingly. "I fully realize I should have done things differently . . . I don't need a cocky, idiotic mutt like you telling me that. Just because you've gotten everything you've desired by acquiring Yugi doesn't make you an expert in love. Especially when it's between me and the Pharaoh." The knife pressed in threateningly, the pale knuckles even whiter around the grip as Bakura fought against his desire to kill the blonde for his ignorance and assumption.
Who was Wheeler to judge him? Who were any of them to judge him, for that matter? He knew he'd made a mess of things . . . he was the one that had to bear the pain of that, he and Yami. The mutt had no right to pass judgment on him . . . none of them did. He was tired of being the bad guy in this . . . yes, his reputation deserved it, but Ra damn it! Even he was human, as much as he liked to hide that fact. He made mistakes just like everyone else, not that he would ever admit it to anyone but Yami. This had been his biggest mistake yet, and he only hoped Yami would allow him to fix it.
"Bakura . . . this isn't helping anything," Ryou murmured, trying to calm the murderous rage in his dark's red eyes. He'd warned Joey . . . although he had to admit, he could have sworn his dark was out of hearing range. "You should go check on Yami . . . see if Yugi is awake yet or if he needs anything."
With a soft snarl and a last warning press of the blade against Joey's neck, Bakura moved away, this time fully intending to go upstairs and check on his love. He left behind a shaking Joey and a surprisingly calm hikari, who merely shook his head at the blonde as Joey fingered his throat with something akin to relief.
"I did warn you, Joey," he murmured.
Bakura stalked up the stairs, rage still seething within him as he sheathed the knife under the back of his shirt. He'd wanted to kill Wheeler . . . wanted it so much he could still taste the blood and fear on his tongue. He was so tired of being judged . . . but the biggest judgment still lay before him. Would Yami forgive him his stupidity?
Padding quietly into the room, he stopped just over the doorway, his eyes dimming slightly as he took in Yami's shivering frame. Yugi was pressing tightly to his dark, pale arms wrapped around the slim, shaking golden form as if to force his own warmth into the man, even in his sleep.
Joey had said they had slept with Yami to keep his temperature up . . . the loss of the blonde's warmth must have cause a slight relapse. With barely a second thought, Bakura stripped out of his own clothing and slid into the blankets, shifting until the length of his body was pressed against that of his love's. The feel of that golden skin against him brought back the hazy memories of two nights previous, bringing them into sharper focus with the reminder of that smooth flesh and muscular form. He sighed slightly, watching the aquiline features from barely an inch away, wishing the crimson eyes would open and look at him, yet dreading it at the same time.
What would Yami say? What would he say to Yami? Ra, he'd gotten himself into one hell of a mess this time. This was worse than the time he'd raided Yami's father's tomb! He flushed as he remembered that particular incident . . . that was one memory of his past in Egypt that he NEVER intended to share with his love. It was too embarrassing by far.
A deeper sigh escaped his lips, this one of relaxation as he felt Yami's shudders slow and come to a stop after several minutes. He lay his lips gently against that burning forehead, frowning slightly at the warmth. The Pharaoh was too warm with fever, yet too chill with hypothermia still in his system. Wasn't there any way to cool the fever without doing damage to his hypothermia wracked body? He was sorely lacking knowledge in this . . . hypothermia was not exactly something he'd had to deal with in his past life.
Shifting closer to the sleeping Pharaoh, he let his eyes run over the beautiful features before his hand crept up to run the pads of his fingers over the soft lips and high, arching cheekbones. Silently, he did something he thought he would never do. He prayed. He prayed to Horus for wisdom, and to Ra for strength. He suspected he would need both if he was to untangle this snarled knot of misunderstanding between the Pharaoh and himself.
Closing his eyes, he determined to memorize as much of this brief peaceful time as he could. It could be all he would ever get, and he wanted something to take with him when it all came crashing down.
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Yugi shifted restlessly before the amethyst eyes opened, staring at identical tri-colored hair for a moment hazily before his gaze sharpened at a glimpse of white hair just over his dark's shoulder. Rising up on one elbow, he smiled when he found that those snowy locks belonged to a certain Tomb Robber, who appeared to be unconscious. Bakura was also pressed as tightly against Yami as Yugi was, with the single difference that one pale hand lay directly pressed against his dark's chest, over his heart.
Turning his gaze to the clock, he was not surprised to find that it was nearly afternoon. His night had not been an easy one . . . getting Yami's core temperature up had been no easy task, even with Joey to help him, and that fever still worried him. However, when he lay his hand over his dark's forehead, he was pleasantly surprised to find that the heat from that golden skin had diminished somewhat. Apparently the fever was now going down, which was nothing short of a miracle.
Sliding out of the blankets, Yugi tucked them in firmly around the sleeping pair and tweaked the thermostat on the electric blanket a bit to compensate for the loss of his body warmth. He quickly dressed in a pair of jeans and a black sweatshirt, pulling on a pair of socks before padding out the door and making his way to the kitchen. He wasn't surprised to find Ryou seated at the table, a cup of Earl Grey tea clasped in his pale hands, while Joey dug through the fridge. He smiled and shook his head at his boyfriend before settling at the table next to Ryou.
"Joey, do you ever stop eating?" he asked, and chuckled slightly when the blonde jumped, then bit out a curse when his head connected with the freezer's handle.
"Damn, Yug, don't sneak up on a guy like that!" he said, pulling out of the fridge and rubbing his head as he shut the door and turned to look at his love. Ryou laughed lightly, shaking his head so that the white hair drifted around his face for a moment.
"Bakura is up with Yami, I take it?" the white haired hikari asked quietly. Yugi nodded.
"Yes . . . I tweaked the electric blanket a bit so they won't miss my warmth. I just hope Yami doesn't wake up and freak when he sees Bakura beside him . . . after what happened, I'm not sure that he won't. But they've got to work this out."
Ryou nodded as Joey leaned down to lay a gentle kiss on Yugi's lips, which he'd raised when his boyfriend's hand had landed on his shoulder. Yugi sighed happily into it, but the amethyst eyes were dark with worry when the taller man pulled away.
"What is it, Yugi?" Joey asked quietly, seeing the concern. Yugi sighed, and shifted uneasily in his seat.
"What if . . . Yami doesn't recover from this? I've never seen him this sick . . . what if he doesn't want to recover?" Joey lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, and he reached up to twine his fingers loosely with his loves. "I'm worried, guys. He's a spirit . . . getting sick is one thing, but getting this sick? I just don't know what to expect."
Ryou reached across the table as a worried silence overlaid the room, resting on gentle hand on Yugi's arm.
"He'll be fine, Yugi," the young Brit murmured. "Bakura won't let him go that easily . . . not now."
"I hope you're right, Ryou," Yugi whispered. "I really hope you're right."
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A sudden shift in movement from Yami awoke Bakura in an instant, and he rose up on one elbow to stare down at the unconscious Pharaoh, who was currently burrowing further into his embrace. Smiling slightly and shaking his head . . . he would never have believed Yami to be a cuddly person . . . he ran his fingers through the tri-colored hair softly, admiring the multi-colored strands as they flowed through his fingers like silk.
How or why this love between the two of them had come about he still didn't know, and at this point he no longer really cared. He wasn't going to look a gift camel in the mouth. He had fallen in love with the one person in the entire world that could understand him . . . all of him. There would be no jealousy issues with Ryou, nor Yugi, no worries about the connection . . . and no worries about death.
Being immortal, as he suspected they were now, truly would have it's benefits . . . he had an eternity to make up for everything he'd ever done to Yami. If only Yami would let him. That last thought brought his happy musings to a rather dismal close.
"Yami," he whispered, needing to speak it out loud, if only to practice for when the Pharaoh truly did awaken from this horrible unconsciousness. "Forgive me for being such a jackass. I've made every wrong step that was possible with this, and I can't tell you how sorry I am for that. Being drunk for our first time was an unforgivable sin. My only excuse is that I couldn't gather up the courage to do it otherwise. I truly meant to come talk to you . . . things just went too far." He hiccupped suddenly, one pale hand rising to his face. He was surprised to find tears slowly tracking down his face . . . he would have sworn he'd lost the ability to cry long ago.
"Please . . . forgive me," he choked out. "Come back to me. I don't want to go through this existence alone." His voice broke on the last sentence, and he sobbed suddenly before burying his head in the soft locks of hair, holding onto the body in his arms for dear life.
Yami lay quiet within the pale man's embrace, Bakura's heartbeat thundering in his ears, echoing his own. He'd been awake for several minutes now, although it had taken him a bit to discover exactly who's arms he was currently residing in. He knew he'd been sick . . . he still felt the weakness in his limbs, the bone-deep weariness of his body a telling sign that he'd caused it some serious problems with his antics.
To be honest, he couldn't even clearly remember how he'd gotten here. His last clear memory, before this moment, was of the warehouse and his own spiraling thoughts. He had a hazy recollection of wandering the streets, and at some point he'd drawn a hot bath in an attempt to retrieve his fled warmth . . . but after that, there was a gaping hole that was uncomfortably similar to that of his missing memories of Egypt.
Awaking to find Bakura holding him had been something of a shock, but the deepest shock had come when Bakura had begun speaking. It was all he could do to hold still in the face of that heartfelt and despairing speech, but somehow he managed to stay unmoving, fighting off the sleep that threatened to pull him back under. Feeling the shudders passing through that pale body, hearing the deep, choked sobs, he could only wonder at the sudden turn around of his former enemy.
This was too real, too emotional to be an act. He tried to gather the energy to move, to reach up and comfort his love, to let Bakura know he was awake, but sleep chose to gather him in her gentle arms again.
The last thing he heard as he sank back into the depths of slumber was the whispered confession of a breaking heart.
"I love you, my Pharaoh."
'I love you too, my thief,' he thought, just before he slipped back into unconsciousness.
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Yami awoke later in the evening, crimson eyes blinking open blearily to stare at the ceiling in bewilderment. After a moment, he turned his head, seeking confirmation that the earlier episode of consciousness hadn't been simply a dreaming fragment of his fevered mind, and smiled as his eyes came to rest on the slumbering form of the Tomb Robber. Golden fingertips reached out, lightly tracing the tracks of tears across the pale skin, and he sighed as his heart expanded with the confirmation that it hadn't been a mere delusion.
Bakura loved him. How and why it had come to pass, he didn't really care, but he silently thanked whatever gods had chosen to intervene as he rolled onto his side and managed to prop himself up on one elbow, staring down at the beloved face tenderly.
There was noise downstairs . . . from the sounds of it, the friends had gathered for the planned Christmas Eve party, although it was much more subdued that normal, probably due to his illness. That was fine, however . . . he had no intention of making an appearance this evening anyway. He had his own celebration in mind.
Smirking slightly, he wormed his way under the blankets, fingers drawing light patterns over pale flesh as he gazed at the form of his beloved thief. That Bakura was muscular came as no surprise, but there were marks on the firm, otherwise smooth skin that puzzled him. Scars, even paler than the surrounding flesh, stood out in several places, and he drew his fingers over them gently, considering them. They appeared to be knife wounds . . . perhaps something the thief had carried forward with him from the past? Whatever they were, it didn't really matter to him . . . Bakura was still beautiful in his eyes, and the scars gave the lithe body character on an otherwise flawless canvas. If he was curious enough, perhaps he would ask later . . . for now, he had other plans, and he wasn't about to pause in playing his game.
Moving lower, he spied his objective and a smirk crossed the aquiline features. He nuzzled into the snowy curls that lay below Bakura's waistline, smile widening when the thief shifted restlessly and moaned.
"Time to wake, my thief," he murmured. "Your Pharaoh requires your attention." He chuckled lightly to himself before licking at the flesh, then blowing cool air over the now wet area. Bakura twitched, a louder moan escaping his throat as his flesh came to life with Yami's teasing.
Wrapping his lips around his target, he suckled lightly, one hand rising to hold the Tomb Robber's hips in place when he bucked slightly at the sudden warmth. Foreplay was something Yami enjoyed immensely . . . it made the end of the game much sweeter and more satisfying. Of course, this would only last until Bakura woke up . . . he wondered how deep a sleeper the former thief was, then shrugged and continued his ministrations. He'd find out soon enough, he supposed.
Red-brown eyes shot open as a wet warmth suddenly engulfed the former Tomb Robber, and Bakura stared up at the ceiling in confusion, mind clicking in slow motion as a groan was torn from his throat from the sparks shooting up his spine. If this was some sort of wet dream, he was going to be terribly disgusted with himself when he woke up. His head lolled to one side bonelessly as the damp heat moved on him, and his eyes widened as he noticed Yami was missing. He nearly scrambled to his feet, before he realized that his hips were pinned beneath warm hands, and the identification of what exactly was going on popped into his head.
Moving slowly, he lifted the blankets, and blinked stupidly, his mind working through a haze of lust as he spied exactly what Yami was currently doing to him.
"Yami . . ." he moaned, and then his head fell back as a particularly sensitive spot was nipped and licked teasingly, his hips struggling to rise into that wet heat for more attention. "Oh gods . . ." he choked out, before the sensation disappeared and the blankets moved of their own accord, Yami emerging from their depths with a rather satisfied grin on his face.
"You called, Bakura?" he whispered, struggling not to laugh at the bewildered and oh-so-kissable look on the thief's face. He squeaked slightly as he was pulled down into a brutal kiss, one that he returned whole-heartedly, although the self-satisfied smirk remained undiminished by the play. "Did you enjoy your wake up call?" he asked smugly as they pulled away from each other to breathe.
"Are you well?" Bakura replied quietly, one pale hand rising to push the blonde bangs back so he could feel the smooth forehead. There was a residual heat still residing there, but not something to be concerned about, and he heaved a sigh of relief. "You had me worried, Pharaoh," he growled, and then paused. "Yami . . . about the other night . . ." He stopped when one golden finger came to rest against his lips, Yami shaking his head slightly as the crimson eyes darkened.
"I already know," he murmured. He smiled slightly as the red-brown eyes widened. "I was awake . . . when you spoke to me earlier," he whispered. "I didn't have the energy to speak to you then, I tried to. But I did hear everything." He removed his finger, the crimson eyes warming with an inner flame as he gazed down at the pale man. "I understand why you were drinking . . . and I forgive you for it. I would not have had the courage to make the first move without help either. I should not have been so quick to jump to conclusions. Forgive me . . . I don't have an excuse for doubting you that way."
Bakura sighed, the tension in his frame leaving him just as suddenly as it had arrived with Yami's words.
"Thank the gods," he murmured, red-brown eyes closing with relief. They opened again as Yami lay a gentle kiss on his lips, lighter than a butterfly's wing.
"Indeed," he whispered in reply. "I love you, my thief. I don't know how, or why it happened, and frankly I no longer care. Just be with me. Let's start over . . . preferably on the correct, non-alcohol related foot, hmm?"
"I'm all for that, my Pharaoh," he said. He shifted uncomfortably, a grimace crossing his features. "If that's the case . . . could we kindly start over now? You're too damn good at teasing . . ." Yami smirked slightly, the crimson eyes lighting even further as he gazed down at the man he loved.
"Well . . ." he said, putting some hesitation into his voice. It was just too much fun to play games of this kind. There was a rather abrupt turnover in the game when Bakura grabbed him and rolled, coming up with the golden skinned figure now pinned underneath him.
"No 'well' about it, Yami," he growled playfully. Now that everything was out in the open, it felt like a great weight had lifted from his chest. Years of loneliness, pain, and anger seemed to simply melt away beneath the weight of that garnet gaze, warm with love and longing that he'd denied for far too long. "I love you too, my Pharaoh," he whispered against the upturned, smiling lips. "I may not say it very often, or very well, but never doubt that I do love you." With that said, he ground his hips into Yami's, swallowing the other dark's gasp of pleasure in a hungry, demanding kiss. The battle for dominance lasted until they had to pull back to breathe, pale skin sliding over golden flesh enticingly as they began to relearn each other's pleasure spots and weaknesses.
Trailing feather light kisses down the strong jaw of Yami, Bakura paused to suckle at the soft skin covering the speeding pulse at the base of Yami's throat before continuing his downward path towards one slightly darker skinned nub. Covering the flesh with his mouth, he drew it in and nipped at it, tearing a gasp of pleasure from his lover's throat before laving the hardening nub with his tongue in apology and moving to give the other the same treatment. His hands ghosted lightly over the golden skin, feeling the satiny texture and the play of muscles tightening and clenching beneath it, smirking against the smooth skin as Yami arched into him, bringing their hips into brief contact that tore a moan of pleasure from both throats.
Wanting to hear that delightful sound again, Bakura ground his hips into Yami's, smirking at the deep throated groan that cut through the otherwise silent room as the Pharaoh writhed desperately beneath him. Yami may have been the King of Games, but at this game he'd met his match, and Bakura fully intended to prove that to him.
"Tell me what it is you desire, my Pharaoh," he murmured, dipping his tongue into the dimple of flesh on Yami's smooth stomach and chuckling as muscles twitched and fluttered beneath him. Yami shook his head, biting his lips to hold back a delighted moan as Bakura kissed his way down to where he stood, heavy with desire and waiting for release. He sighed in disappointment as the thief bypassed the area, feathering a trail of kisses, licks, and nips down his thighs before coming back up the other side in the same way.
"Bakura," he moaned, the need in his voice practically dripping with desperation as the thief paused for a moment and lay his cheek on the top of his thigh, breathe puffing teasingly against the over-sensitized flesh. "Please . . ."
"Please what, Yami?" the pale thief whispered, tongue darting out to lick at the velvet-sheathed steel teasingly. Yami jumped in response, and he chuckled slightly as he felt desperate hands clench on his shoulders. "You're simply going to have to tell me what you want . . . that's the rules of the game."
He glanced upwards at a sudden shift in powers, red-brown eyes narrowing at the smirk that now adorned the aquiline, gold painted features of his lover.
"A game, is it?" Yami whispered, and Bakura shuddered at the heavy promise in that tenor voice. "Any other rules I should know of?" He shook his head mutely, and the smirk widened into a full fledged grin that promised pleasures beyond any he had experienced. "Good." Caught in that gaze like prey before a cobra, he was ill prepared for Yami's sudden movement. The Pharaoh sat up abruptly and spun about, until Bakura's head was resting approximately where it had been before in reverse . . . but Yami's was almost directly below his own flesh. "New rules, thief," he murmured, his tongue flicking out to tease him before withdrawing. "First one of us to lose control . . . is on bottom." Bakura had barely a second to realize his accidental slip of tongue before he was engulfed in the wet heat of Yami's mouth.
"Not . . . fair . . ." he growled, struggling to get the words past the tightening of his throat at the pleasure Yami was causing in him. "You . . . have a . . . head start . . ."
"Then you'd best get going," Yami chuckled, pausing for a moment. "Or you're going to lose." With a snarl, Bakura attacked his flesh aggressively, causing Yami to throw his head back in sheer pleasure before returning to his own task with equal abandon.
In the end, it really wasn't a fair contest . . . not that Yami was particularly concerned. As long as he won . . .
Bakura moaned, sending shivers through the lithe form beneath him at the added sensation, and felt the fire burning in the pit of his stomach hit the conflagration stage. He was slowly being consumed by it, and he hovered at the edge of his release, fighting to maintain his control. Yami played an unfair trick, reaching up with one hand to fondle him lovingly while the other pinched one coral colored nipple between finger and thumb, and that was the end of it. Arching upwards, releasing Yami with the movement, he choked a hoarse shout as his seed spilled out of him, shuddering as he felt Yami swallow around him.
Yami moved out from beneath him as he collapsed, a self-satisfied smirk crossing his face as he stared down at his spent and still shuddering love.
"I win," he murmured teasingly, planting a gentle kiss on one side of the pale neck before rolling the limp form over and chuckling at the bemused and exhilarated expression on the thief's elegant features. "My turn."
Reaching toward the desk, he wrapped the shadows around a small tube lying on the far side of it and summoning it to his hand. Squeezing a small amount of it out onto his hand, he slathered it upon his hardened flesh before using what was left to reach down between his lover's legs, slipping one slick digit into the thief carefully.
The red-brown eyes went wide, flicking to Yami in surprise before Bakura relaxed and smiled back.
"To the winner goes the spoils," he murmured, and then gasped as Yami rubbed the small bundle of nerves inside him. "Holy Isis," he whispered, falling back onto the pillows as Yami added another finger and began to stretch him in preparation. He whimpered slightly as Yami withdrew, hating the fact that the Pharaoh had drawn such a weak sound from him, but unwilling to put any real effort into stopping it. As long as Yami was the only one who ever saw this side of him, he could live with it, he supposed.
His back arched, a low, ragged moan escaping him as Yami slid home, burying his flesh deep. His hands clenched into the blankets tightly, red-brown eyes closing as a feeling of completion swept through him before they opened again as Yami moved, pulling out only to slide back in harshly, brushing something within him that caused his vision to go white.
"Good gods . . . harder," he rasped. Yami complied, setting a brutal, harsh rhythm that he barely managed to keep up with, thrusting his hips against his lover as Yami moved over him. The Pharaoh claimed his lips in a passionate kiss, swallowing his moans of pleasure as they continued their dance, a penalty game that Bakura was more than willing to play.
His neglected flesh throbbed with each thrust, pulsing in time with the harsh movements as they became more erratic, and he nearly screamed when one golden hand found the again hardened flesh and pumped it.
Release was once again not long in following, and Yami managed to capture his lips once again as he did scream, warmth splashing between them before the golden figure above him stiffened, and he felt liquid heat fill him.
Yami collapsed beside him, one golden arm tossed casually across his chest, the aquiline features smoothing into a peaceful expression before the crimson eyes opened to gaze at him, the garnet orbs warm with love. Bakura trailed pale fingers over the extended limb, still trying to reconcile what had just occurred with the turmoil that had plagued him for the last eleven days. That turmoil was gone now, and for the first time in far too long, he felt . . . happy, and content.
"Bakura?" Yami whispered, and he smiled at the man . . . a genuine smile that sent shivers through Yami and stretched muscles in his face that had long been disused. "Are you all right?" Bakura nodded, the red-brown eyes acquiring their own warm glow as he looked at the man who had, wittingly or unwittingly, changed his life.
"Better than I have been in a long time, my Pharaoh," he murmured softly. He nearly frowned in disgust with himself at the tone . . . it reminded him far too much of Ryou for his own comfort . . . but he shrugged it away. This was Yami, who would be getting to know every facet of his soul, just as he would be coming to know every facet of Yami's in return. With Yami, he could allow himself to be weak. It would take time, and it would probably be a rough road . . . but for once, he found that he didn't really care. But he nearly sat bolt upright as something occurred to him. "Are you okay? You shouldn't be extending yourself so much . . ."
Yami snickered at the sudden concern, which seemed terribly out of place on the Bakura he'd been enemies with for so long. Shaking his head at the arched eyebrow that was sent his way, he settled back, reaching down to pull the blankets up around them once again.
"I'm fine, 'Kura," he replied quietly, pushing his lover back down onto the pillows before moving to cuddle up beside the pale form, resting his head wearily on one shoulder and sighing contentedly as Bakura used one arm to pull him in closer. "Merely tired." Bakura smoothed his free hand through the tri-colored locks soothingly, lightly playing with the silken strands as he sighed.
"Let's get some sleep . . . tomorrow morning is early enough to let everyone know that you're okay . . . that we're okay," he said. Yami nodded, and then chuckled slightly.
"That should be an interesting Christmas gift," he murmured. They both snickered slightly before falling silent, content to simply lie in each other's arms and allow sleep to drift over them once again.