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Rulers and Rogues	By : Khat Category: Yu-Gi-Oh > AU - Alternate Universe Views: 10587 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own YuGiOh!, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
Here we go again.
Warning: This chapter contains lemons, the quality of which you can decide for yourself. Neither is really my normal style.
And Mystical, I did get your e-mail. While your ideas are interesting, they don’t quite fit in with my Yami, although that one about Yugi was quite amusing.
Mulle: Well, here’s your answer to the Seto question. Although, you might be just as confused by the end of the chapter. There’s an explanation there, though. And I always thought it was at least somewhat about the domination, too. I’ve come across a couple where it’s all lovey dovey, and, well, that’s just not Kaiba. And while I, personally, don’t share your dislike for Atem, I can see where it comes from. He does have that whole ‘holier than thou’ thing going on most of the time.
Dancingpixies: I hope you didn’t sit there the whole time. I would have to feel bad then. Lol
Shamise & Dragonlady: Thanks a lot. Hope you like this one too.
******
It was past dark when Marik’s hunt finally ended and the group returned to the palace, his prey’s disembodied head gripped triumphantly in one hand. Ryou had his face buried in Bakura’s shirt to help keep himself from focusing on the grisly sight, the thief stroking his hair soothingly. Even with the attempt, the hikari felt faintly sick. He had tried to avoid seeing any more than he had had to, but the sounds of the slaughter alone had been enough. Even Malik, quite used to his yami’s vicious nature, found himself feeling a little green.
“Hey, Thief!” The bloodthirsty yami called, as the rode in through the front gates. “You should let us have Ryou for the night. We’ll toughen him up some.” He leered suggestively at the nervous boy. Ryou just squeaked fearfully and pressed closer to Bakura, silently pleading that he not accept. He was plenty sore enough for one day, and, rough as his darker half tended to be, he was sure it would have nothing on Marik. He wasn’t so afraid of Malik, since he had been given to him before, back during the Battle City fiasco, and knew his tastes. Malik had been crueller than Bakura, but not to the point that Ryou had suffered any lasting damage, and that had been back before the Pharaoh had settled him down.
“No.” The Tombraider answered the blond simply, and Ryou blinked, having somewhat zoned out. “He’s not feeling well.” He set Ryou down and followed after, reaching to pick the slave up again as soon as he had handed the piebald’s reins to the groom. Ryou nuzzled his neck gratefully, and received a small flash of satisfaction at the action. “I came along on your Hunt, so go bother someone else.” Ryou blinked at the tone uncertainly, thinking that it sounded like Bakura hadn’t really wanted to go out with the pair either.
Marik started to protest, but Bakura ignored him, striding across the courtyard and into the main building. He paused at the stairs, considering a moment, then turned aside to head for the kitchens instead. Ryou had been hungry, earlier, but the gruesome murder had managed to kill his appetite. Now, though, despite his mind’s continued disagreement, his stomach growled hungrily.
Bakura sat his hikari down at one of the cleaned tables in the main dining room, glancing over at the servants who were still straightening elsewhere in the room, and left him there while he went to raid the kitchen. Supper had ended, but, apparently, not too long ago, so there should still be something warm. And then, there were those microwaves, too. This modern world had such useful things in it.
There was actually a fair bit of food left over, as it seemed neither the Priest nor the Pharaoh had come down either. Well, they could have whatever he left; usually it was the other way around.
The thief filled two plates, and headed back toward the dining room, noting absently that his other half was mostly settled down now. He had been well aware of the way Ryou was going to react to the tombkeepers’ pastime, but Marik had kept pestering for him and Ryou to come, until he had finally given in. He wasn’t sure quite why the blond had wanted him along, though he was sure something was being plotted. Not that that was unusual. Marik was always thinking up schemes to make the Pharaoh’s life miserable, although they were usually just little things, like ordering male enhancement products in the spirit’s name and such. Bakura had found that particular one amusing as well, especially since that brunette of his had become pregnant not long after the shipment had arrived. Of course, Yami had insisted he had sent the entire shipment back…
Bakura stopped then, standing in the doorway to the dining room, just watching. His hikari was still where he had seated him, but now he was looking quite embarrassed, trying, without much success, to fend off a small group of female slaves. A few male ones were eyeing the silver-haired boy, but they, at least, had enough sense to stay clear. Bakura himself was teetering between amusement and jealousy, but the decision was quickly decided when one of the girls obviously said something to embarrass the boy further, earning a mortified squeak. Chuckling, the Egyptian continued over to rescue his other half.
“Get lost. He’s not available.” Though he was amused, Bakura made sure to put enough growl in his voice that they immediately behaved, clearing the general area and going back to their chores. Ryou glanced up to him, relieved, face still red.
Bakura had heard some girls say that Ryou looked cute when he blushed, but he had never thought so. Certainly it was amusing to see his reaction, but cute? No. Ryou’s skin was too pale for it, even lightly tanned as it was, the extra colour showing up clearly and making him look like he had dumped his face in rouge.
“Hurry up and eat.” He ordered, watching a moment as his light moved to obey, lifting his head at a slight growl, scanning the room for the perpetrator. Most of the staff had finished and left, but the spirit’s dark chocolate eyes soon settled on one who was still working. Brown eyes, slightly lighter than his, looked up to meet his gaze with a fierce glare. Bakura just sneered. Why the Pharaoh kept that one around… Well, he had been one of the shrimp’s little gang, though not a very useful one, from what he could remember. What was his name? Something to do with a car, wasn’t it? Ford, Toyota… Oh, right. Honda.
Actually, he wasn’t supposed to be out of the kitchens, was he? Not since his last escape attempt. Well, it wasn’t any of his business, anyway. Looking down again, he noted that Ryou had already half-cleared the plate, and showed no signs of stopping yet. Not that Bakura minded. His hikari was entirely too skinny for his tastes. And speaking of taste… Bakura sat down himself, then, starting in on his own food.
******
He was floating. Or, they were floating. He wasn’t sure which was right. He was himself, of course, but he was the other as well, and which self had he originally been, anyway? He couldn’t tell that, either.
Hands touched him, or maybe he was doing the touching, in places that part of him claimed really shouldn’t be touched. This was not right, a voice said. This was not even in the same duelling arena as right. But, of course it was. It was right, and normal, and wonderful.
The hands continued to wander, stroking and caressing lightly, stripping him of his clothes. Yet, at the same time, he was the one doing the teasing, and undressing his lover. Wait, what? Oh, but it felt so good, he didn’t care any more. He was going to show him what pleasure truly felt like.
But he didn’t like men. Well, he didn’t particularly like girls either, except for his… his what?
His Puppy.
No, he was not a puppy.
The hands finally managed to strip him down, reaching to stroke around the hard length that had been revealed. A hiss of pleasure, than a second, echoing the first. Other hands, his?, reached to grip strong biceps, but whether in an attempt to protest or encourage, he wasn’t sure. Lips connected with his, soft and smooth, tongues battling fiercely for dominance, lust filling both minds now. He still didn’t know which he was, but it didn’t matter anymore, whether he was Katsuya or Seto. All that mattered was the need, the hands that reached to trace over sensitive spots, lips that suckled and nipped, leaving marks that would surely be regretted later by one of the pair. A sharp lovebite and one voice cried out loudly, the other moaning a counterpart to the pleasured scream.
Then, the fingers were elsewhere, coated in slickness, spreading, reaching inside to find that hidden bundle of nerves. More calls of pleasure, more moans and kisses and bites, blunt nails leaving pale marks and red scratches in flushed skin, and, finally, a shocked gasp as the fingers were withdrawn, replaced with something larger, more filling. Pain, too big, so small… Such virginal tightness.
Uncertain brown eyes gazed up, triumphant blue stared back down, a kiss breaking the momentary pause. He was here, and he was there, and this was right. This was the way it should be.
Yes. For the moment, he would accept. Later… later he could try and figure this out.
He didn’t need to figure anything else. All he had to do was submit. He would take care of him. He didn’t need to be taken care of.
The argument was too confusing, and neither pursued it any longer, simple moving to thrust into the tightness, hips arching up to meet the movement, legs tangling together to pull him closer, hands reaching to pull him up to shift his angle until that voice cried out again.
This was embarrassing. People would hear. Let them hear, let them talk. This was what he had been taken for. Private slave, pleasure slave. Slut.
If that was what he wished to call it. Slut, whore, prostitute. In Egypt they had been revered. They weren’t in Egypt. There would be a new Egypt, spanning the entire globe, and he would be his favourite. His gorgeous Puppy.
The argument was abandoned again, in favour of more kissing, stroking and thrusting and clinging. Then two voices calling out simultaneously, cum splashing up over their stomachs, more filling the tight passage. Exhausted chocolate eyes met equally tired azure for a few moments, and he shifted then, to lie side by side on the large bed, staring up at the ceiling. The odd double view was disorienting, though, and he closed his eyes to rest them, quickly falling asleep.
******
“Your mind was wandering a lot tonight, Hikari.” The soft tone, friendly seeming enough, instantly put Malik on guard, as he glanced towards his other self. Feigning nonchalance, he shrugged lightly, stilling his impulse to reach up and stroke the necklace. Isis’s necklace, at one point. He didn’t know where his sister was, if she was still even alive. Probably hiding somewhere back in Egypt, with Rishid.
“A lot of stuff’s been happening lately.” He answered, shrugging and moving to flop back on the bed. Despite his Egyptian heritage, or, actually, because of it, nothing in their apartments offered any reminders of their old life, except for the picture of Malik, Rishid and Isis that sat on the nightstand on his side of the bed. The bedroom walls were painted Malik’s favourite shade of lavender, the thick carpet on the floor deep violet, the furniture all done in a very modern design. Marik hadn’t protested the decorating at all, only demanding that the bed be big and comfortable, something Malik had been only too happy to agree on. And strong enough to handle the yami’s dark tastes when it came to sex. It had taken two before they had settled on one that seemed a bit more difficult to break. It had been specially made, actually, of top-grade steel, lacquered black. Both headboard and footboard were formed of a curved tube, supported by thinner uprights. They were nearly impossible for a person to bend by themselves, which was good, Malik thought, remembering the two times when bed issues had interrupted his other self. It hadn’t been pleasant.
“Your mind’s wandering again.” The statement was followed by a shallow cut across his arm, slicing through the short-sleeved shirt he wore.
“Hey, that was my favourite bellytop.” The hikari complained, eyeing the torn rose-shaded material. He supposed he could have it modified into a sleeveless, but he really wished his other self would choose less harmful ways to get his attention.
“Stop ignoring me then. Come to bed.” The yami moved to stretch out, giving him an expectant look, casually lapping the smudge of blood off the blade of the knife he held. Malik sighed, stripping the top off and throwing it in the general direction of the laundry hamper before turning to crawl up the bed to settle beside the other blond.
Where had he gotten that fondness for blood, anyway? Yes, Malik had his own kinks, but nothing that far. Marik chuckled, catching the thought.
“You should know. You made me.” The spirit pulled Malik down, kissing him roughly, biting his lip when he didn’t respond fast enough to please him. The tombkeeper growled at that, trying to dominate the liplock.
There had never been anything gentle about sex between the pair. Neither would ever dignify it with the title ‘lovemaking’ or ‘sleeping’. There was none of the first in it, and not much of the second. It was a complete battle for dominance, and, though Malik often lost, occasionally, he could get the upper hand.
Like right now. The hikari was currently perched over his other self, Marik’s black tank top pushed up so that he could reach the spirit’s sensitive spots, his tight black jeans already half undone. Marik wasn’t giving in easily, though, twisting a leg up to catch him and flipping them over, falling off the edge of the bed. The smaller blond huffed as he landed on the floor, the weight of the other pressing him down, the evil grin firmly in place. Malik growled. He had managed to get in between the bed and the suitcases that had been left there earlier, with no way to roll aside, and Marik had positioned himself between his legs, so that he couldn’t get them under to buck him off. The hikari tried pushing him off, but he didn’t have the leverage to manage it.
“Fuck!” He gasped as his partner suck his teeth into his other shoulder, hard enough to, again, draw blood.
“If you insist.” The knife was back, making quick work of his pants and boxers.
“Damn it, Marik! That’s the third pair this month.” There was no answer, just more hard kissing, sharp nails leaving tracks down tanned arms as Malik tried again to reverse their positions with just as little luck. Then, without any warning, something trying to force it’s way into him.
:Marik! Lube!: The trapped blonde finally managed to get a leg under far enough to partially push him off. The yami didn’t really believe in the substance, but after a few times where he had put his hikari in bed for a good week after one of their bouts, had finally agreed to try and remember. He usually needed frequent reminders, though.
“Wimp.” Was the growled reply, but a squeeze tube was produced from under the bed, it’s contents quickly emptied into him before the spirit resumed his attack, forcing his way in. Malik arched his back, letting out a strangled noise, but he adjusted quickly enough, the pain only bothering him a moment. He was, after all, quite used to it, and even enjoyed it, to a point. Not as much as his other self enjoyed giving it, but then, there were times when Marik could have accidentally killed him, given the chance, so that was a good thing.
Malik shifted his hips slightly to improve the angle, knowing that if he didn’t make sure to get his pleasure himself, the spirit certainly wouldn’t bother worrying about it. He found the right position after a moment, gasping to the mingled pleasure and pain as Marik chose that moment to add a few more markings to his light’s neck and shoulders.
The noise only seemed to egg the darker half on, thrusting hard and fast into the other’s body, hands gripping the tanned hips hard to hold him in place. He made an annoyed noise as the other reached to stroke himself, but didn’t bother to do anything about it, feeling too close to the edge. A few more hard thrusts and he sunk his teeth deeply into the flesh he had been tormenting at that moment as he came, feeling the shudder as Malik brought himself off as well a moment later. While the lighter half paused to recover, though, he made sure to keep the upper hand, a pair of handcuffs quickly cuffing his wrists together behind the leg that Malik had perched up on the edge of the bed. A long string of curses followed the discovery of the stunt, and the spirit watched a moment as the other tried to get out of the position. He would manage it, after a bit, but Marik didn’t allow that moment, reaching instead to flip his hikari over, producing other ropes and cuffs he had left beneath the bed.
He was going to have fun tonight.
******
Still confused about the part with Jou and Kaiba? It was supposed to be. Basically, Jou managed to connect, finally, only he overdid it and their minds are so meshed together at the moment that they can’t tell themselves apart, hence the odd thought process going on there. They can’t even tell who’s thinking which thought, which is what makes arguing so hard. It’ll straighten itself out, though, after a bit.
- 13
- 14
- 15
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Rulers and Rogues