Two bodies.
"What did you call me here for, Malik?"
Two teenage boys.
"We're partners now, aren't we, Bakura? Working together?"
A similar goal, each a piece of the same puzzle.
"I don't see how coming to your hotel room has anything to do with that."
One light, one dark. Both their own degree of antagonist.
"Here we can discuss things without a single drop of worry."
Both only a half of the body they possess.
"Worry of what, hikari."
Alone with nothing but a television and a bed.
"Being over heard, yami."
An endless fight for power and possession.
"Why would I be afraid of that?"
"You're so careless."
"Fuck you."
A sly grin across a dark face.
"If you'd like."
A normal pale glowing red.
"You only wish."
A shrug of the shoulders and the crossing of legs.
"Got me there."
What does that mean?
Silence.
"Anyway, Bakura, we need to act quickly."
"I know that, Malik."
"We need to get closer."
Just one gasp.
"What do you mean?"
Thin, violet eyes.
"To the Pharaoh."
"Right."
Disappointment. But seldom expressed.
"To what limits will you push your vessel, spirit?"
"Bakura can't die."
A sly grin over dark lips.
"I understand. But damage can be done without death."
Hesitant, burning red eyes.
"What exactly are you speaking of?"
"Enough to stir up worry without risking life."
"Absurd. Think of this yourself. I have another reading to track."
"Wait."
Both to their feet. A dark, begging hand. A pale face hidden behind a blanket of white.
"For what?"
No movement.
"Lay with me."
Not a word. Compliance. A caramel gift wound tight with a pearl ribbon.
- - -
"I hate you, Malik."
Lies. Restraint. Desire.
"Just try and prove that, my thief."
Possession. How absurd. Pale arms creeper lower. Slipping under. Gripping tighter.
"Ahh..."
Frustration. Disbelief. Hunger.
"I hate you."
Faster. Tighter. A tongue peaking out for a taste.
"B-Bakura..."
Sweat. Desire. Pain. Longing.
"Beg."
Louder cries, faded eyes. Squirm under the touch.
"Take me."
Achievement. A pale grin. Sweat coated caramel, stripped of its wrapper.
"It'll hurt."
A pearl only revealed the point of necessity. Only a crack of the shell.
"I don't care."
Impatience. Need. Slow entrance, hesitant drawback, faster thrust.
"That's good."
Pain. Bliss. Agony. Warmth.
"More."
Demand, supply. Demand, supply. A notch faster. A smidge harder.
"Getting close?"
Ironic mockery. A hidden pearl putting down the exposed. Pathetic.
"Shut up and finish me, Bakura."
More sweat. A larger grin. Dark fingers gripping tighter at whatever they can.
"Nearly there!"
"I said shut up!"
The white is blinding. The pleasure numbing. Where am I?
"Come, Malik."
Force, desire. Harder, faster. Just one last stroke.
"B-Bakura!"
Deafening cries of pleasure and pain. What a mess.
"Gh... M-Malik..."
Silenced pleasure, stifled desire. A flooded canal.
"That feels nice."
Caramel fingers pushing back the blanket of white.
"Oh shut up."
Silence. Bliss. Satisfaction.
- - -
"Maybe you could slice the arm. Make it bleed."
Two bodies.
"That's messy."
Two teenage boys.
"But effective."
One light, one dark.
"We do need to get closer."
Alone with nothing but a television and a bed.
"To the Pharaoh."
An endless fight for power and possession.
"Yep."