Disclaimer: I don't own yuugiou.
Once again he woke up in his own cardboard world, to the sound of an approaching horse, soon followed by the thief's voice.
He sat up, leaning against the wooden wall of the half-burnt hut that was their shelter, let his blanket slide off: morning was breaking through, and the cold of the night already receding. The thief always came with the sun.
Tiredly, Ryou rubbed his eyes, and reached for the cup of water the thief had refilled in the evening; he had just put it back down when the thief entered through the hole in the opposite wall. For a moment, he stood completely still, looking tired and victorious: sweat was gleaming on his forehead, his hair was wet and tousled, and the red coat flowed dramatically behind him; then he came towards him in a few long steps, heaved a bag he was carrying from his shoulder, and emptied it, letting its content roll to his feet. He dropped to one knee on the gold he had scattered around, looked him in the eyes, and murmured something in his language Ryou didn't understand.
Ryou stared back at his intense gaze. Surrounded by gold, silver, precious stones, and delicate jars, he was never sure if the treasure was being offered to him or if he was part of it. But he supposed both were better than being a stand for it. The thief smelled of fire and dust. Ryou raised a hand to brush away some of the greyish-white hair that had fallen into his face when he had leant down to talk to him; the thief grinned in response to the gesture and spoke again, in a low, intimate voice that made Ryou blush, even though for all he knew he could be talking about stumbling over jars filled with intestines.
Or about his victory, if that was what made him look so happy, and that was gruesome on an entirely different level: the ones he was fighting were Ryou's friends. There was a smell of smoke on him, and Ryou knew how they attacked towns: he had seen the arrows the strangely inhuman hooded riders (non-player characters, he thought to himself) were carrying with them to rain fire down upon their enemies.
The thief seemed to notice his uneasiness, for his grin dropped, and he crunched down further, closer to him; Ryou automatically put his arms around him when he leant closer. The thief pushed against him with his head, catlike, lips grazing his chin in the process as if by accident.
Ryou let himself relax, tentatively kissed the thief back, on his forehead, his chin, his lips, hasty, clumsy contact. His skin tasted salty.
The thief made a low sound in the back of his throat, a kind of humming that Ryou could feel vibrate through him when his lips touched his throat, and sneaked his hands behind his head, supporting it lightly. Ryou eased into the touch, closed his eyes and blindly searched contact with the lips and the tongue that came pushing against his mouth.
His eyes flew back open when the thief tumbled them over, upper bodies on the floor, his legs, when he stretched them, burying themselves under part of the treasure; a lone gold piece rolled up to them, and came to a halt an fell down with a faint ringing sound in front of his belly. He glanced at it, uneasily wondered if it was an expendable game piece, or real, thousands of years old coinage, or pure illusion, then looked away, back to the face of the thief, who'd rested his head on the floor: he was breathing more evenly than before, his eyes were half open and fixed on him, and his fingers were still playing with a strand of his hair.
AN: I hope the ending isn't too abrupt, but I really don't think I have anything to add; an earlier version ended at "His skin tasted salty.", and that felt less satisfying but maybe it was better? Anyway.
All feedback much appreciated!