Pairing: Seto x Yami x Bakura
Genre: AU, drama, angst
Rating: R
Words: 1321
Part: 2/3
Dedication: Once again, for LilPurplFlwr, because she gave me the idea that spawned this little creation. And simply because we're Yu-Gi-Oh fanatics (and she's so awesome, I want to cuddle her). Go read her writing right now, and that's an order.
Warnings: YAOI (that'd be boy x boy... but that's what you're here for, isn't it?), sexual situations between minors.
Summary: Highschool: a place of education and improvement. But beneath it all, it's a time of rampant desires and foolish mistakes—and there's so much tension, Yami scarcely knows what to make of it. YAOI - Seto x Yami x Bakura
A/N: Just want to thank all the lovely souls who reviewed this measly offering of fanfiction. You have no idea how much it brightens my day to receive a review.
Taut
Part Two
Bakura, like most delinquents, was often suspended.
This time it happened to be for smoking. A sneak had informed a teacher that Bakura and his group were just behind the back entrance to the school, smoking during sixth period. That unfortunate student was soon to become well acquainted with Bakura's fists when the boy returned to school.
After all, Bakura really hated tattle-tales.
So Bakura was forbidden to step within the boundaries of the school for three days. Of course, that didn't stop him.
When Yami found him, Bakura was in the midst of writing random profanities upon the wall using cans of spray paint in vibrant hues. The cough the shorter boy emitted from the fumes alerted the other of his presence, and the scowl that had been upon his face warped into a pleased grin.
"Yami."
"Bakura," the other replied, books clutched habitually in his arms.
An interested look crept upon the taller boy's face as he regarded Yami. "How did you get my name?"
White lies never hurt anyone, Yami rationalized, as he spoke. "It's hard not to hear about you."
Bakura chuckled lowly before he turned back to the wall, a metallic clank sounding from the can clutched in his hand before he resumed his previous task. "Ah." The long stem of the F was finished, and on to the next letter he went. "So, just why are you here?"
Yami watched the other boy with interest. His hair was long and tangled around his shoulders by the wind, and it contrasted greatly with the dark coat which wrapped snugly around the other boy's shoulders.
"I've been considering your offer."
That statement proved important enough to distract Bakura from his vandalizing. The taller boy turned, eyes heavy as they landed upon him. Yami suddenly felt horribly bared beneath that penetrating gaze, and the sensation was thrilling—addicting, and he wanted to be stripped and discovered by this boy.
"Have you?" One step, two—and suddenly Bakura was next to him, breath hot against his ear and desire wrapping insidiously around his mind.
"I have. How about Friday at nine?"
A feral smirk and a soft hand pressed against the sensitive curve of his lower back. "Just perfect."
Soft lips and hard desires.
Their mouths met in fierce opposition, each vying for domination over the other. Yami's back ached from where he was slammed against the side of the building, and his lips burned from the teeth that sunk firmly into them. He imagined blood filling the cavern of his mouth, and somehow it felt so intimate he could scarcely handle it.
Bakura was rough—he humiliated him in the best possible way, and he couldn't help but groan as his head was yanked backwards. His bruised lips parted for a gasp of air, and he whimpered as teeth dragged along the delicate skin of his throat.
Seto never made him feel like this.
Seto was careful to be gentle with him. Yet, at the same time, his passion seemed to overflow and threaten to smother his very being. It was like heated wax, his attention—the type that feels cool upon the first touch (that initial shock) before the sharp burn spreads across one's skin.
Bakura's passion tasted of blood and metal. If Yami could visualize each and every kiss, he would imagine them slicing deep into him—cutting through layers of flesh and bone like butter to carve at the malleable gold of his soul. He felt desecrated and violated, and it was a form of worship all in itself.
As Bakura clutched possessively at his hip, he couldn't decide who made him feel more alive.
"You didn't come last night."
Seto's voice was strained over the telephone, quiet and composed—but the tension was there in the intonation, a slightly pitched lilt that gave his words a tense quality.
Yami stared into the mirror at the angry teeth marks lining his neck, and felt terribly guilty.
"Your point?" he finally asked quietly.
"You always show," was the confident yet perplexed statement he received in reply. The memory of Bakura's rough hands upon the sensitive skin of his thighs haunted his mind as he listened to the deep baritone of Seto's voice.
"Well, obviously with the exception of last night."
"Why?" Seto finally asked after a stretch of silence spread out thinly between them, pushing them further and further apart. He sounded so genuinely hurt that Yami almost wished his escapade with Bakura never occurred. Almost.
Attempting to push the emotion away from his mind, he turned from the mirror and sat down upon his bed. "I didn't want to go. Not last night."
"… I see."
As Seto hung up on him, his cell phone began to ring. The caller ID displayed Bakura's name in neat text across the screen.
Smoke billowed out from between Bakura's lips, and in that nebulous mist, Yami could see his demise.
It was the first time he had skipped class. He found himself thinking of the calculus lesson he was missing as Bakura's lips ran absently over the dip above his collar bone. Each hot breath that skimmed across his damp skin reminded him of parabolas and tangents, and he thought of the intersection between Seto, Bakura, and himself.
They were sitting on the floor of the boy's locker room, clothing scattered around their feet like discarded memories. Bakura's arms wrapped around his waist possessively, and he leaned back against the firm chest behind him, inhaling the scent of sex. It permeated the room, a musky, pungent flavor, tainting the white walls just a bit further.
"I should go back," he said finally, lips pressed gently against the cord of muscle in Bakura's neck.
"Stay a little while longer." The words were breathed into his ear, air tickling his skin and sending little tendrils of sensation twining down his spine. He shifted closer and burrowed his face into the other's neck, mesmerized by the scent that was Bakura. It was a mixture of cigarettes and spice and something inherently dark, and he expected to find blood upon his lips every time he kissed the other.
Their damp skin clung together, a sticky mass of limbs and unsaid words—but Yami simply couldn't pull away, no matter how hard he tried.
"Alright," he murmured, losing himself just a little further.
"We need to talk."
The words were simple and frank. Signature Seto: terse and to the point, never dancing around the topic. The boy always had a way of nailing subjects head on, and now was no exception.
Yami couldn't bring himself to meet the other's eyes as they sat on the floor of his bedroom.
"About what?"
"You know perfectly well what I want to discuss."
Yami kept his silence and studied the suddenly interesting pattern of his carpeting.
"I told you to stay away from him." Seto spoke authoritatively.
"And you know I hate being told what to do." Yami's head lifted and their eyes met in a clash of crimson and azure. They kept a solid distance between themselves, sitting on nearly opposite sides of the small, cramped room.
"Yami, he's not good for you."
"Oh, and the one-sided relationship we have going on is any better?"
Seto looked momentarily baffled. "Excuse me?"
Yami sighed as he shook his head, strands of blond falling down to shade his eyes. "You. You make me feel like I'm nothing but an occasional fuck."
There was momentary silence before a sharp bark of laugher spilled forth from Seto's lips. "What? And fucking around with Bakura is better how?"
"You know what Seto, just forget it. Forget it and get the hell out of my house."
Seto looked at him levelly for a moment before replying softly, "Fine."
The door slammed shut a few seconds later, and Yami wasn't prepared for the onslaught of loneliness that swamped him upon Seto's departure.
-TBC-