Fandom: YGO
Pairing: Psychoshipping
Still-Fresh Heart
"Let me tell you a story," Bakura purred, the thief's eyes glinted with amusement, a smirk spreading slowly across his face.
"I have better things to do than listen to your inane plots," the other replied with a growl.
"Oh, but you might want to hear this one... It has relevance to annihilating the pharaoh."
That was enough to catch the other's attention.
"Now that you're listening... let me explain," Bakura continued, "You haven't been in Japan long... but Ryou has. Ryou knows stories... and I pick up on them. There's an old Japanese fairy tale about a dragon, Ryo-Wo. This dragon sent a fish to go out and find him organs from different creatures to eat."
"I don't have time for this nonsense-"
"-Just listen, dammit. So the fish goes out and finds a monkey to get organs from. However, the monkey befriends the fish, and the fish doesn't want to kill the monkey to get the organs. Instead, the monkey leaves, saying he'll find some other organs for the fish. The monkey never returns, so the fish is forced to go back to the dragon empty handed. The dragon, angered, eats the fish instead."
Bakura smirked and stated his point, "Friendship is meaningless. They'll all leave in the end, won't they? Pharaoh's little friends won't stay around forever... It's inevitable; they'll run in the end. You are the dragon... If the pharaoh doesn't give you what you desire... the puzzle... then you must destroy him."
Marik rolled his eyes. "You could have skipped the story, imbecile."
The other shrugged, and brushed the comment off. "But... let me ask: Suppose you were offered an organ that hadn't been ripped from a creature?"
"Touching as it is, what use do you think I would have for a still-fresh heart?" In a flash, his hand whipped out, gripping tight on the light-haired boy's neck, nails digging slightly into the other's skin. Five ruddy, half-circles would stain Bakura's pale skin later, blood caked there, aesthetic and deadly; Marik more than approved of that image. "I'd much rather have bloodied, decayed reliquiae at my feet than pitiful live mortals. Soon, the pharaoh-"
Wincing, the other boy interjected, "-the pharaoh doesn't enter into that-"
"-don't fucking interrupt me-"
"-don't you interrupt me!" The thief glared, reaching up to wrench off Marik's tight grip from his neck. It hurt, but he was used to pain, so the sting from those nails didn't bother him too much.
That little act of defiance didn't go over well with the other boy, and he gripped the light-haired thief's shoulders tightly, pulling him in closer. A struggle ensued first, then lips crushed together in a fight for dominance, their teeth gnashing against each other's briefly.
It always ended up like this. There was no love as one might normally define the word, but there was heated passion.
Bakura's was the only still-fresh heart Marik would tolerate.