A/N: warning for lemon ahead. Enjoy.

Bows of Promise

Chapter Seventeen

Slowly, the depressing mood that settled over them faded over the next day. Before they slept, Seto had called the reception, asking them to send the food he ordered to Yami's suite instead and they ate, Seto forcing Yami to do it even if whatever he placed in his mouth, no matter how delicious, tasted like ash on his tongue. They had gone to bed in silence, Seto wrapping around him tightly and telling him to sleep. Having slept for most of the day, Yami didn't think he could do it at first. But he was pleasantly surprised to feel his eyes growing heavier, lulled into slumber by the strong, sure sound of Seto's heart beating beneath his ear.

He woke up to the Seto spooned behind him still. He seemed to have been awake for a while; the brunet was playing with his hair gently, every once in a while placing a gentle kiss behind his ear. Yami kept his eyes closed and his body relaxed—something he found to be very easy. He stayed still, letting Seto's fingers brush through his locks, feeling his lips on his neck, the edge of his hairline… that spot right behind his ear.

And it was at that moment that he tensed. Against his will. He realized that Seto was kissing all the scars he could see on his skin from his position. His eyes flew open and he spoke Seto's name.

He was greeted good morning. Then left with a sudden coolness behind him as Seto got up. He said he was going to his room to shower and change and Yami blinked dumbly, still missing the warmth Seto's body had been providing, that he stayed silent even as Seto stood for a few moments by the exit of the bedroom area, waiting for his response. He only regained control of himself after the door was opened and closed once again, indicating Seto's departure from the suite.

He remained in place for a few moments, wondering what he should do. His hands fisted in the covers for a bit, then he pushed himself upright, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and getting up quickly. As he collected a change of clothes, his mind thought of the weirdest thing, that he was lucky he wasn't one of the people who had postural hypotension and got dizzy getting up too quick. He would have had a very different problem on his hands if that was the case.

He knocked quickly on the door to Seto's suite. There was no answer for a few moments, in which he grew impatient and started knocking edgily once again, until the door swung open while he still had his hand raised to continue the eager taps on the wood. Seto stared down at him questioningly.

Yami smiled sheepishly.

"You mentioned a blowjob yesterday?"

Seto's questioning look turned into a smile and he stepped back, letting him in.

After a shower that took far too long, Seto's legs were still a bit shaky after Yami was done with him. He promised, with a very serious look on his face, that he would pay Yami back tenfold for teasing him for too long that morning. Yami, pleased with the effect of his ministrations, told him to walk straight first before throwing promises at him.

Carefully they avoided prickly details of the previous day, Yami asking nonchalantly about the activities he missed out on for the conference, Seto explaining that the day mostly passed as a series of lectures, discussions and small workshops. He cringed slightly when he realized he missed the discussion comparing ultrasound and CT effectiveness that he wanted to attend. Seto noticed this and smiled, telling him he recorded the entire thing for him and asked the author of the paper for a meeting later on during the day.

That awarded him a kiss from Yami as they stood by the door. They stood for a long while, Yami trapping him up against the wall, leaning his weight half on Seto's chest, half on the wall which he propped against using his arm. Slowly, he explored the brunet's mouth with his own, enjoying the slow mingle of their tongues lazily against each other; desperate, as though trying to breathe in each other.

Only the fact that it was a little past nine-fifteen in the morning and that if they didn't get a move on right now, they would have to go without coffee or breakfast until the first lunch break, broke them apart. They took the elevator down to the lobby where they took their breakfast, Yami finding his appetite returning to normal and he sat arranging the smoked beef on top of his toast, eating one slow bite after another while Seto dug in with gusto. Yami watched him in silence, by now too used to the wonder that surged through him as to where all the food went.

Once or twice throughout the day's events, he saw a flash of white hair. His eyes would harden and he would look away.

It wasn't very difficult to do so. He met other people he had met on his travels before; a retired Italian that had accepted his meeting in the first conference he went on after he left Egypt; he looked so old now, Yami offered his arm for him to lean on as they walked towards the lobby during the coffee break. There was an Egyptian surgeon, two years older than him, that he had met four years ago in the UK. He was now living in Canada with his wife and children. Expectedly, he asked if Yami settled down and Yami supposed that the urge to see everyone 'settled down' was so deeply inherent in the Egyptian genome that everyone simply had to ask that question. He also met a beautiful young woman who was a student when he had obtained his first PhD. She was now preparing her own degree and sat discussing the protocol for it with him.

The day passed very peacefully, compared to the one before it.

Seto was displeased when once again, they finished the day's activities too tired for sight-seeing. Yami kept reassuring him that he wasn't too upset about it. They still had time. He quickly asked where Seto wanted to spend tonight and suggested they went to his suite as they spent the night in Yami's for the past two days.

The brunet quickly abandoned his grump about not being able to go out at the implication of Yami's words. They were on each other even before Seto could dig out his keycard. He actually didn't. he was too busy burying his hands inside Yami's pants, leaving him to fumble for the card, clumsily dragging it through the slot, failing to get it right a few times. He turned around, Seto protesting for a few moments, but then deciding to lavish the back of his neck with little nips and kisses as he turned the keycard right way up and letting them tumble into the room, where the brunet was already tugging his clothes off.

He was pushed onto the bed, landing there with a surprised 'oomph' that Seto chuckled darkly at. His blue eyes were now almost black with how blown his pupils were.

"Strip…"

Yami shuddered, especially at the monosyllabic order Seto spoke and the way he stood in front of him, watching him like a hawk as he did so until he was lying naked on the soft sheets, his clothes strewn on the floor beside the bed. Seto was unbuttoning his own shirt lazily, eyes still fixed on him, a tongue flicking out to lick his lips.

"Touch yourself…"

Heat pooled into his groin and he almost groaned. He bit his lower lip to stifle any sounds that might break out of his mouth, automatically as if he was programmed to obey Seto's commands without argument. He was already hard and aching. Seto's tone was even, familiar. Yami's toes curled and once again he almost groaned, realizing that Seto issued his commands as easily as ordering him to apply the cautery in a surgery, or fix the laparoscope's camera, or even asking for a pair of forceps. Heat rushed through him as he realized that he was never going to forget that thought whenever they stood together in an OR.

Every touch was heightened to unbearable levels with the weight of Seto's appreciative gaze on him. He never knew he had an exhibitionistic streak in him, but as he lay there, shuddering with desire under Seto's intense blue eyes, he felt himself writhing with pleasure increased a hundred-fold under the present circumstances.

"Slow down," Seto issued another command and he obeyed.

He kept his eyes fixed on the glorious sight Seto made before his half-lidded eyes. The dim yellow lights of the room were casting shadows on the planes of Seto's torso on display from the shirt that hung on his shoulders. He was unbuckling his own belt, slipping his pants off. Every move he made turned Yami on further and he closed his eyes, feeling himself rushing quicker towards his orgasm.

He felt the bed dipping beside him. He opened his eyes and within moments, Seto's hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling it away from his body.

"Let me take things from here…" he told him in the same easy tone and Yami stared up at his glittering blue eyes, allowing their owner to grab his other hand and raise both his arms above his head, pinning them securely above it then leaned down and kissed him. Yami kissed him back eagerly, raising his hips convulsively trying to seek the pleasure that was now gone. "Behave," Seto tapped him twice on his hip, where his thigh met his abdomen and immediately, his hips stilled.

He kept still, obeying Seto's non verbal command to keep his hands above his head as he grabbed the bottle of lube that was lying inside the drawer beside the bed. A moment later, Yami felt the cold, slick substance landing on his heated skin, making him gasp slightly. Seto's hand held his wrists again, his other hand starting to stroke him once again. He moaned softly at the sensation, especially as Seto's hand somehow felt so much better than his own. Usually the rule of 'you want to do something right, do it yourself' applied to pleasuring himself, but in this case? Seto seemed to know exactly where to touch him, the right pressure to apply to his skin, where to rub…where to drive him insane.

And insanity seemed to be what Seto had in mind for him tonight. Just as he was about to reach his orgasm, he abandoned his hard flesh, leaning down to bite gently on a nipple, tease the hollow at the base of his neck, slip just one finger through his entrance and keeping it hovering teasingly right at the rim until he was keening with frustration. And then, he would apply more lubricant and start all over again.

Over and over, he was brought to the very edge of the peak of his pleasure, before being denied. Seto focused his attention on all his erogenous spots. His nipples were glistening in the faint light, bitten and teased to hard little points rising to attention as if begging for more abuse which Seto obliged them again and again, until Yami felt himself crying with the intensity of it all. The single finger that slipped into him wasn't enough. He needed more. Something thicker, something that could reach deeper within him to properly and thoroughly grind into the spot of nerve-rich tissue under which his prostate lay, which Seto only occasionally brushed, apparently not wanting him to climax by stimulating it.

His thighs had fallen open, quivering with tension and feelings that overwhelmed him. he could feel sweat pooling in the dips of his body; the hollow spot between his clavicles, a drop of sweat running between his pectorals… liquid pooling inside his belly button and the spot right above his pubic bone, joining the clear fluid that had leaked out of the tip of his aching sex.

His eyes were screwed shut tightly, his face buried into his upper arm. He could feel his hair sticking to his forehead, falling into his eyes. He was panting nonstop now, a sob occasionally leaving his lips unchecked and he didn't care at all by this point to try and prevent himself from making any sounds.

There was a change in pattern. Seto leaned closer, trailing the length of his neck with little nips and nibbles, before stopping right next to his ear, where he whispered, "You can beg me to let you come now…"

Yami's eyes flew open. Through the haze of tears, he could see the evil little smirk playing on Seto's gorgeous lips and the glint in his eyes.

He narrowed his own eyes. "Dream on, Kaiba…"

Silly… very silly, indeed. Pride and stubbornness were the ones talking here, he knew that. He mentally screamed at himself, feeling the pleasure churning within him turning into a delicious ache that was simply too extreme for him to bear any longer. But the words had already come out.

Seto chuckled and moved back. He let go of Yami's arms, but, enjoying this game far too much, Yami did not lower them or try to touch himself in any way. Instead, he watched Seto raising the condom foil to his lips, carefully tearing it open at the edge and rolling it onto his own member with ease. Yami watched him as he leaned down once again to pin his arms in place, his other arm hooking under his knee, bending it as he positioned himself at his entrance and pushed inside with the same sense of surety he employed with everything he did.

Yami accepted him with a quick, sharp intake of breath. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sensation again and unwillingly pushed another tear from the corner of his eye. A moment after, in which Seto sank deeper within him, he felt the little droplet being kissed away. He once again felt Seto lips next to his ear, repeating, "Beg me, Yami…"

He was about to flat out refuse once again. But at that moment, Seto drew back just a fraction, then sank into him once again after adjusting his angle to point upwards just slightly. Whatever coherent thought he had was lost in a howl of bliss as the head of Seto's erection directly pressed against that hidden spot within him.

He bit his lip, his hands clenching convulsively and his hips rising spastically to try and seek any friction against his weeping sex. There was nothing to be had, however, Seto raising his knee, wrapping his leg around his waist and avoiding any and all contact that could give the slightest bit of attention to the region of his anatomy that needed it most.

Relentlessly, he pulled out, then sank back inside. His rhythm was slow, teasing…maddening. Yami was being driven crazy slowly. His mouth had fallen open in a silent gasp which the sensations had silenced and he could do nothing except staying docile at Seto's mercy, unable to do anything except lie there and take it.

"Beg, Yami…" Seto was once again telling him, kissing his neck, trailing hot lips downwards and stopping at his nipple, taking it into his mouth and dragging his tongue slowly over it.

The shock-like feeling that shot through him seemed to bring back his voice.

"Please, Seto!" he gasped, writhing and straining underneath Seto's frame and he couldn't tell if he was trying to escape the maddening stimulus or trying to get more of it.

At his words, Seto moved back, pulling at his knee further upwards and starting to shove into him without restraint. With each stroke into him, each pulverizing shove against his prostate, light burst at the corners of his vision. He wanted to close his eyes, but he enjoyed the sight of Seto's gleaming body above him, broad shoulders glistening in the dim lights, muscles rippling powerfully beneath milky-white skin. His arms were finally released, Seto's hand now free to reach for his dripping sex to stroke at it gently.

Too gently.

He sobbed, fists bunching in the sheets above his head and he bucked his hips urgently. "More, Seto… fuck! Please!" he howled desperately.

Seto ignored him at first, keeping up the too-soft stimulus. His hips were moving faster, though and it was the only thing that distracted Yami from his demands. Only when Seto's hips started faltering, did his hand start applying more pressure, fingers dragging over the sensitive, weeping head.

Two strokes later and Yami felt his vision darkening as his orgasm was ripped from him powerfully, spilling his seed all over Seto's hand, on his own chest and stomach and leaving him in a state that wasn't exactly unconsciousness… but wasn't complete awareness of his surroundings either. He could feel Seto reaching completion within him, collapsing on top of him panting and breathless…but he couldn't move. His eyes were closed, mouth hanging open, lips and tongue dry with his own panting breaths.

He stayed where he was. Limp, unmoving. Seto was gone for a period of time that he didn't know how long it was, exactly. He came back with a damp cloth that he passed along Yami's forehead and the side of his face and his neck. He then used it to wipe them both clean. Yami pulled himself out of the trance he had passed into when he felt his head supported up slightly and the press of a water bottle against his dry lips. He straightened slightly, leaning against Seto's frame as he sipped at the water.

A gentle smile was on Seto's lips when he looked up. He returned it, tiredly leaning against him as they settled back into bed, properly this time. He wrapped his arms around Seto's waist and closed his eyes.

He could feel sensations stirring within his chest. It was a bit like falling from height, minus the unpleasantness of it and plus another giddy feeling that made his insides flutter. Just before he fell asleep, he made a realization. He knew what that stirring of emotion that Seto inspired within him was.

It was love.

Seto had already come to the same realization he did.

He did, after all, verbally announce it twice to him—three times actually, but one of them was in joking context so Yami set it aside for now. Both times, he hadn't offered a response. He wondered why Seto did not bring it up. It wasn't like him, not to demand answers whenever he needed them. Both times had been after they spent themselves in each other's arms. Yami supposed it was the endorphins speaking in the brilliant afterglow of their lovemaking. It was understandable. The sex they had was phenomenal, the satiety coming after it no less impressive. It was understandable that after being the source of such pleasure, they would feel very affectionate towards each other.

A little niggling part of him was admonishing this train of thought severely. It felt wrong. He knew that he was belittling something monumental with his doubts, with the base and frankly demeaning way he thought of those two little declarations to which he said nothing. He supposed it was the final struggle against how he was pulled relentlessly beneath the undertow of this relationship. It was too late, he knew that already. He was already in too deep, too attached, ready to answer Seto's proclamations of love. Out of habit, though, he was sorting through all the possible worst case scenarios first.

Verbally, Seto said it twice. Non-verbally… Yami cringed slightly to himself, recalling all the times Seto was just model partner material. Starting with the way he vehemently, patiently kept chasing his uptight and frankly unreasonable rejections until he wormed his way against his will into his heart. Then, there was all the situations that he was so accustomed to facing alone and Seto just trudged his way over to his side, carelessly brushing aside misconceptions that he should and must face everything by himself. And finally… the understanding that anyone else would not have been so gracious to offer, learning of the frankly shit state of his mind, all his character flaws and fallacies of judgment and the emotional rollercoaster he dragged around wherever he went.

Seto had said he loved him many times before and not just twice.

He didn't know what to do. He understood the panic. He understood why he felt like running away, suddenly, faced with all of this. And he supposed that with anyone else, he would have done exactly that. After all, he did it once before with his Luxembourger lover. At the first sign of sincerity, sex aside and good times aside, he had abandoned ship, leaving behind a very nice young man who was heartbroken, confused and angry because he was simply trying to help his lover.

With Seto it was different. He had willingly opened up, shared everything with him. He was now suffering through the panic, but didn't think he would be able to do to Seto what he did to Cimon all those years back.

And so…he decided to maintain the status quo.

He woke up the next day as usual, now too used to Seto's presence in his bed. They had gone down for breakfast as they did every day since they arrived in Tokyo, nibbled on toast while watching Seto eat and marveling at the warmth spreading through him at watching that simple, base action. He surrendered to the sensations, sipping calmly at his coffee and offering sassy comebacks to his lover's dirty jokes.

He didn't mention anything of the turmoil giving him a headache even before the day started.

It was almost enough to make him forget that he was in the same building as his ex-lover. He was harshly reminded of that fact as he sat in one of the rooms designed for workshops after one of the OCs told him that someone was requesting a meeting to discuss a previous paper of his. He had told Seto that he would meet him in the lobby for coffee and departed to the room, sitting and waiting for his visitor.

The door opened, Bakura walked in and closed it behind him.

"Hello," he greeted.

Yami, sensing the surprise that he was feeling crawling unchecked on his face and angry that Bakura could see it so clearly, scowled. His scowl deepened especially as he realized the Arabic with which he spoke, the language forced on him again reminding him of all the things he'd rather leave behind.

"What do you want, Bakura?" he snapped, crossing his arms in front of his chest and keeping his eyes fixed on the white-haired man who approached the seat right in front of him.

Bakura sat down, smiling at him. "So unfriendly, Yami… you've changed."

"You have no idea," Yami flatly countered.

"Now don't be like that," Bakura said, his smile faltering just a little bit. Yami's scowl remained. "We've parted on very bad terms. It makes me sad."

Yami raised an eyebrow at him.

"I thought I'd request a meeting so we could catch up without anyone interrupting," Bakura slyly said.

"I do not feel like catching up, Bakura. I will repeat my question, what do you want?" Yami snapped. His courage was borrowed and he was running out swiftly. "And if you have simply come to catch up, then I will excuse myself. I have better things to be doing."

"Can't keep Seto waiting, can you…?"

Yami squeezed at his upper arm with his hand where he had his arms crossed. The scowl was still fixed on his features, his gaze cold, unfazed. He knew that Bakura was perceptive. He knew that there was a very huge chance that after Seto's appearance two days ago in the lobby's coffee shop, the way he drank from his cup so leisurely, defended him so vehemently, Bakura would make the connection that perhaps they were more than just co-authors on a thesis. He needed to remain impassive.

"Pretty thing, isn't he?"

Yami resolutely stayed silent.

"He has lovely eyes," Bakura resumed, sitting back in his chair, leaning his head on his hand while staring directly at Yami. An amused smile was on his face, his words coming out in a thoughtful tone. "Looks like he walked out of a movie, to be honest. He's a nice catch. I have no idea how you managed to seduce him, you always were just a little boring. With those blue eyes and that ripped body… I wonder what exactly did you do to get him into your bed, much less making him so willing to let you mark his neck the way it was day before yesterday. I suppose we all have our kinks. Didn't think the famous Seto Kaiba would let anyone just drive him around like a…"

Yami slammed his palm down on the surface of the table they were seated at, making a bang loud enough to silence his ex-lover's derogatory speech. He was on his feet. He was shaking with rage.

"You can shut up right now, Bakura. I won't let the likes of you speak of him that way," he hissed in anger.

Bakura dragged his shocked brown eyes from Yami's hand that made such a loud slamming sound, then looked up to meet his irate eyes. The shock disappeared gradually, leaving behind another one of those unnerving smiles.

"You have ignored what I said about you, yet you couldn't stomach a single insult at Kaiba…?" he was speaking as if to himself.

His smile widened, a hand rising to his chin thoughtfully. The very same hand suddenly extended and, in an action similar to the one he did day before yesterday, he reached for Yami's neck. Yami didn't even have time to react. The all too familiar hand touched his neck, the long fingers wrapping around it with ease. Yami felt his heart jumping and unconsciously, he whimpered, trying belatedly to draw back and away from the familiar hands, but as expected, Bakura's hand stiffened on the back of his neck, pinning him securely in place, his thumb settling unnervingly on the spot in front, pressing firmly enough to partially block his airway.

He swallowed in fear, all bravado provided by the anger at the way Seto was spoken of evaporating as he was faced with a situation he spent years convincing himself he would never find himself in again. He stiffened, feeling small and insignificant. Feeling as though he was once again, back in a stuffy, dirty locker room with Bakura looming over him with mad anger in his brown eyes, without an escape and without any options except enduring the pain that was about to be dealt to him.

"You've been letting him have you, Yami… I have suspected ever since he came to your help that day," he was saying, still holding him in place.

Yami's entire body was stiff as a board, his nostrils invaded by the natural scent Bakura let out all around him that hadn't changed except very subtly over the years. He felt nauseous and faint with fear and anger.

"Is he any good, though?"

He stubbornly ignored the question, moving back once again and this time, making sure to use more of his strength. He needed to get away as quickly as possible.

Bakura held on tighter and he was forced to stop struggling or risk a serious injury to his trachea. Bakura's excellent knowledge of anatomy which he had passed on to him, never faded. He knew exactly where to hold him and Yami wasn't about to risk the pain he knew would come if he moved more than this.

"Don't you miss me Yami? Just a little bit?"

At those words, however, his eyes narrowed and, not even thinking of the consequences of his actions, stopped trying to move back, placing both his hands at the white-haired man's chest and pushing him back aggressively, grateful when he successfully dislodged the hand wrapped around his neck and removing his ex-lover out of his personal space.

"You disgust me," he spat at him venomously, turning around and heading towards the door.

It was a mistake to turn his back on Bakura.

He was almost at the door, when he was grabbed by the upper arm and jerked around to face Bakura once again. In an all too familiar action, Yami saw everything happening in slow motion, as if part of a flashback being played in black and white before his eyes and he had no other option other than remaining stuck in place, watching it unfold. He saw the familiar hand rising, descending once again with the back of it towards him… landing without hesitation, without the least bit of compassion on the side of his face.

He gasped only when he found that Bakura had jerked him back powerfully, preventing his descent to the ground with the force of the blow. A moment of numbness passed, in which he had been shocked into silence, before he found his voice once more with that shocked gasp that escaped him, followed by heat and a throbbing pain springing along the side of his face.

The only thing preventing him from crumbling to the floor was Bakura's powerful pull on his arm with one of his hands while the other buried its fingers into his hair with practiced ease that tore a whimper of fear from him.

His hand rose to his hair, holding on to Bakura's wrist tightly, pulling at it and trying to extricate his hair from his fingers, especially as he felt a few strands coming loose with the force the white-haired man was using. His eyes were burning horribly as he looked up to meet the sadistic brown eyes he knew too well. there was a familiar fire in them that made his stomach turn sickeningly. It was a look that starred in all his nightmares for all the years that passed. And here it was, materialized solid and real in front of him, the sensations its owner giving him not one bit different from before.

"You've grown some claws, Yami…" Bakura was saying. Yami was sure that he had a comeback to that. But for some reason, his mind was fuzzy, the burn along the side of his face increasing tenfold and even if he could ignore all those unpleasant sensations, he felt his head jerked around once again for good measure, his former lover adding, "But we both know that you are nothing more than my bitch, Yami… you know I am the one who can control that little defiant streak of yours. Don't you ever forget that…"

Yami whimpered, clawing at the wrist holding his head securely. "Let me go…" he whispered, not trusting his voice enough to raise it higher than that.

Bakura stared for a while longer at him that seemed longer than an eternity. Then he pushed him away. Instinctively, Yami's arms rose to protect his head as he collided with the wall with the force of the push.

"So is he that good? You've forgotten all about me… all about the good times we had together. You think you are better now…but I know everything about you. How pathetic you are…" Bakura was saying, standing above him with his arms crossed, staring impassively at his collapsed form and Yami didn't need to look up to know he was staring down at him haughtily. He did, anyway, blinking at the burning sensation in his right eye.

The disdainful look in Bakura's eyes, his words… woke his anger once again. He scowled up at him, defiant and knowing that there was nothing more to be lost now. Bakura couldn't dish out more at him than what he already endured at his hands, be it today or years ago.

"Yes, actually… he is that good. He is great. Unlike you, he isn't a caveman without finesse," he grunted out.

The kick he received to his stomach for his impertinence was almost anticlimactic with its inevitability. He curled up by the wall, groaning in pain and trying to ride the waves of it out by breathing evenly through his nose.

Bakura was clucking his tongue in annoyance. "Years after and you piss me off so much, Yami…" he said.

Yami felt like chuckling and he would have if it wasn't for the sickness threatening to make him lose his meager breakfast. He tried not to move much, not to aggravate the stabbing like pain in his stomach.

"You always say the wrong thing and I just…have to hurt you."

Yami rolled his eyes at the practiced excuse.

He was about to make his opinion on the matter known, when Bakura bent down on one knee beside him to speak to him again.

"You think so highly of your new rich boyfriend, Yami… I hate to break your delicate heart, but eventually, this relationship will fail," he was saying. Yami stared up at him, the surety in his voice forcing him to try and seek the reasoning behind it. "First of all… did he tell you that he and I had a nice little chat day before yesterday?"

Yami blinked.

"W…What?"

Bakura smirked, raising one hand to trail over the side of his face that wasn't quickly swelling in response to the blow he had received just minutes ago.

"So he didn't tell you how I told him how I've ruined you for other men… that you can no longer have a proper relationship without running away because you know… you know that no one but me can give you the loving you deserve, Yami."

Shock was spreading onto his face, he could feel it. Shock and betrayal. The sick feeling in his stomach was rising as bile to the back of his throat as he tried to comprehend what else Bakura might have told Seto… and how.

Bakura was chuckling, understanding him too well.

"I told him all about the time you came bawling your eyes out to me, begging me to take you back. I told him about all the times I made you cry in the locker rooms, how pathetic a sight you'd make, how we would heap you with surgery lists and dirty errands that you shouldered for the first few years of your residency without complaining… that you must be the same now, years later…"

Against his will, a very different kind of burn sprung in the corners of his eyes. He could feel himself flushing with humiliation, trying to imagine what Seto thought of him as he listened to those words. A hopeful part of him supplied that…for sure, Seto must have defended him…? Surely…?

Once again, as if reading his mind, Bakura chuckled. "I am just comparing your violent reaction to me speaking ill of him to his response when he heard me say all those things about you. I do wonder if your strong feelings for him are reciprocated, Yami…?"

Yami blankly looked up at him, the niggle of doubt exploding into a flood that drowned all other rational thought. He focused his entire attention on Bakura, listening to every word and clinging to it. Unable to do anything else.

"You think I'm here to try and take your sorry ass back, Yami… and while it is very tempting to get you writhing beneath me again, I hate to say that I am here as a messenger, Yami…nothing more," Bakura spoke once again. Yami looked up at him blindly, gaze swimming behind tears. He registered the sympathetic look in the brown eyes as the white-haired man added, "Pegasus Crawford has been a contact of mine."

Yami blinked. He could feel a hot trail traveling down his face. He pushed himself upright slightly, straightening to listen.

"He's been telling me about your intradepartmental politics… some gossip. He told me Kaiba was trying his hardest to secure one last vote for him in the elections coming up."

Yami felt a sudden chill running up his spine. His eyes widened.

"He told me that he was restlessly seducing you ever since you arrived…"

The words were ringing in his ears like thunder, mingling with the sound of his heartbeat racing sickeningly. His head spun. He felt sick.

"He said that he treats all of his relationships the way he treated business deals back in the day. Mutual benefits, nothing more and nothing less. He dated a German multibillionaire who was the supplier for the prototypes of robotic surgeries that he used for his practical work on a paper which got published in a very renowned journal… a more advanced version of the Da Vinci Robot and he was the very first person to use in trauma surgeries."

Yami sat up, his back against the wall, pushing against it as if trying to become one with it, disappear and leave everything behind. The awful words, the awful realization coming with them.

"And before that, he dated his superior's sister. Managed to get him to approve his PhD discussion earlier than expected."

Yami squeezed his eyes shut, his hand rising to cover his mouth to prevent himself from screaming like he felt like doing at that moment.

Bakura wasn't done, though…

"And right after graduating, he dated the daughter of the dean of one of Japan's most prestigious teaching hospitals. And from that, he got his name onto the match-day list, even though he still had a whole year left in his training program to complete."

Yami opened his eyes. Defeated, he leaned it back against the wall, not even bothering to resist the tears that ran down his face at the words he had no choice but to sit and listen to.

"He's using you, Yami…to become the youngest head of department in Japan…"

tbc…