The chapter below is significant for two reasons, the first being that it is my fastest update ever. The second being that it is my very first lemon scene, with it I must issue my first ever mature content warning.

I grow up so fast... (joking)

All times given before each section are relative to the first chapter.

Sweet Dreams are Made of This by Marilyn Manson.

The same time as the break in:

The body beneath him arched, forcing him as deep within her as he could possibly go and he felt the silken expanse of flat stomach press against his own, their hipbones grated together sharply. He groaned as her core shifted and flexed around him and caught a strand of snowy, silver hair in his fingers, tangling the hand that wasn't currently supporting his weight in her shiny locks. The unusual color and impossibly soft texture never failed to fascinate him, and there were precious few things he enjoyed more than toying with her long mane. Unfortunately, or rather very fortunately, he was currently perusing something much better. She rolled her hips again and hiked one of her legs higher up his torso, her knee just brushing his ribs, her azure eyes stared up at him inquisitively and he caught a hint of good natured impatience in her gaze. Of course, in his distraction he had lost track of the pace, he pressed feather light kisses across her face apologetically and resumed in a slow, hard grind.

A moan slipped past his lips unchecked, the muscle that encased him was still relatively untried, he was first, her only, as she his, and as it was the grip on his shaft was vice-tight. His whole body was screaming at him to take her as fast as he was capable of and her sighs were growing urgent, but time alone sufficient to lie with her was rare, he wanted to savor it as much as he could, Ra only knew when another opportunity like this would come.

"Tell me what you want", he whispered in her ear. She shuddered, but when their eyes met their was a fierce determination in her expression that he did not have time to contemplate before he found himself on his back, the beautiful woman fully astride him. She placed her delicate hands on his chest and stared down at him imperiously. He couldn't help but smirk, many would have thought her too shy for such a maneuver, but they mistook her good manners for meekness, she was more goddess than human.

She leaned down, the tips of her breasts scraping his chest as she drug her hot mouth down the side of his neck, "Why don't you tell me", she answered.

Did she realize how terribly alluring she was? He didn't think so, a good measure of her tremendous appeal was her total and utter sincerity, there wasn't a shred of vanity in her. The complete candidness had floored him the first time, but it was what turned lovemaking into transcendence.

His hands took hold of her hips, and thrust upward, demonstrating what he was not near coherent enough to explain. She cried out, and her raptured expression was confirmation that he had managed to strike that knot of nerves within her that never failed to bring about her release. But then she seized his arms and pinned them gently above his head, "It's rude not to answer", she teased.

Oh gods above them, she was doing that on purpose, he found he didn't mind being at her mercy. His own personal deity, if she wanted worship then she would receive it.

"Ride me", he pleaded, his voice coming out a rasp soft as the sound of the wind sifting the sand outside, he swallowed over a dry throat. His anticipation intense as a flirtatious smile turned her mouth upward.

She relinquished his hands and they found their previous purchase, he tried not to press so hard he hurt her as she clenched and slowly raised herself, almost entirely off of him. Her playful expression challenging him to be the first to give in, but she had already pushed his impressive restraint to it's limits, he dragged her back down roughly, letting out an unabashed scream of his own. They began a new rhythm, in that manner, sweet agony that threatened to throw him over the edge with every time her sheath engulfed him, he was so close...

Seto Kaiba awoke gasping, his flushed face in his pillow and his hands fisted in the sheets. He could feel his flesh throbbing mercilessly where it was trapped between his abdomen and the mattress. He shoved himself up onto one arm and tore at his clothing, desperate to get at the source of the torment.

He hissed when he felt his long fingers close around his member, his grip harsh, the gratification almost immediate, he thrust frantically only thrice into his own hand. The pleasure finally overwhelmed him and his body contracted sharply, climax found him and he spilled across the sheet, bitting his lip to keep from shouting as he had in his dream.

He collapsed, his shaking limbs falling lax. The same fantasy, the same god damn vision that had haunted him since he made that fateful trip to Egypt. It was only his awareness of Mokuba asleep across the hall that kept him from swearing loudly.

The illusion, or perhaps memory, he couldn't always separate the two anymore, affected him the same way every, single, time. One would think that after years of the same dream visiting him on a near weekly basis he would build some sort of tolerance he would build some sort of tolerance to it. But no, he would not be so fortunate.

It terrified him, to feel so out of control, but there was nothing he could do about it. He'd tried everything. He didn't know if something really was calling out to him across the millennia or if it was simply a freak case of PTSD, but whatever it was, it refused to leave him alone. He glanced over at the clock , it was two forty in the morning.

He huffed a martyred little sigh and sat up, in bed, he needed a shower. Drops of his seed were clinging to his skin and he knew from experience that it would be very uncomfortable in the morning if he went back to sleep in his current state.

He yanked his pajama pants off and chucked them into a laundry basket in the corner, he padded silently to his en suite.

He flipped the lights on with right hand, his left and dominant currently out of commission. The bathroom was outrageously large, he didn't know what the designer had been thinking, the tub alone was almost large enough that he could have opened an onsen in his bedroom. The same panel on the wall controlled all of the amenities and he punched in long series of numbers that coded for different instructions, grateful all the while that he was borderline ambidextrous.

The shower started itself and there was a faint click that let him know the door was locked.

He opened the door to the shower stall and slipped inside, again he couldn't fathom why this particular feature was so outrageously opulent, had he lost his mind and decided to throw a party in his bathroom it could have held six easily and eight if guests packed in tightly enough.

The flow of water was soothing and he suddenly became aware of how tired he was, he backed into the glass wall, the smooth surface freezing against his back, and slid down it.

He was tired of doing this, it wasn't just the odd risque hallucination, there were horrible nightmares. Less frequently he would see the entire sequence that he had witnessed the first time he had viewed the story in full. Real or not, he hated watching that girl die.

He was becoming increasingly tempted to contact Ishizu and demand an explanation, as far as he was aware none of the others who had gotten sucked into that mess were being haunted.

He would, he would find the reason for his problem and stop it, he couldn't keep going like this, if anything the dreams were getting worse, time had done nothing to fade them. He shuddered, this was not normal, and what was worse, there wasn't a perfectly rational, grounded in fact explanation. Kaiba was a strong believer in science, being, in essence, an applied physicist himself. However twelve run-of-the-mill doctor's appointments had come and gone, and three full blood panels that he had required to travel to more exotic locations. Nothing had indicated some sort of imbalance.

He didn't dare contact a phsycologist, the primary reason being that the instant he explained what happened he would lose Kaiba Corp. for good and probably end up in a padded cell. What on earth was he supposed to say? That a nutcase had forced him to go to Egypt by sucking out his little brother's soul, then he visited old friends who happened to belong to an ancient cult that guarded the necropolis of the Pharaohs and spent a good twenty minutes staring at a giant rock he had been having visions of for around five months prior, give or take a few weeks. Unfortunately then the giant rock reacted badly with the magic golden eyeball in his pocket, which, by the way, had been given to him by the phsyco who lured him there in the first place.

He would then calmly and rationally share that the mystic artifacts had transported him to another time and he had chased a past incarnation of himself around an ancient version of Cairo until he got distracted by the past incarnation's girlfriend who happened to be the living embodiment of his favorite duel monster's card. Everything had been going along quite nicely until his past self's long lost father went completely off the deep end and killed the girl because he wanted his carbon copy to become king of egypt with the help of a giant monster who appeared to have a mutant python in place of it's genitals. But there was no need to worry because the dead girl turned into a dragon and saved the day and helped him return to his own time where he watched his arch-rival turn in to two separate people and battle himself.

Hell, he was half tempted to lock himself up.

He resolved to contact the Ishtar family in the morning.

Twelve hours after the break in:

Marik twirled a strand of long white hair in his fingers, observing the smooth flow of it and the contrast against his black sheets. Kisara was out cold, the video game controller still in her lax grip. He sighed, Ishizu had rather thoroughly reamed her out and frankly she seemed like she could use a distraction so they had spent the entire day doing absolutely nothing productive, walking about town, eating food with zero nutritional value, Kisara had dropped roughly four hundred dollars on a new tattoo that spanned her hip, as per his suggestion and they had nearly gotten themselves killed racing some of the more expensive cars that weren't technically speaking theirs.

She was his absolute favorite person, he loved his sister and Orion dearly, but he had come to care for Kisara in an entirely non-platonic way. He sighed and wrapped an arm around her narrow waist, knowing she would think nothing of waking up in such a manner, it was a common occurrence. She trusted him, so fully and utterly that she would share a bed with him. He, who was not her husband, lover, or even boyfriend. She believed he would never betray the faith that she had placed in him.

She asked to much, he had grown entirely besotted with her, everything about her. Her strength, her intelligence, her beauty, he was in so far over his head that he could no longer tell the surface from the bottom. He wanted her in a way that would have mortified her had she known his dreams and daydreams, she certainly would not have been so comfortable laying in his arms.

He could never have her, not in this lifetime and not in one million lifetimes. Hers was an ancient and powerful soul that had been tied to another, equally formidable, one since it's advent.

She belonged to Seto Kaiba, Ishizu had made that abundantly clear when she discovered his feelings and reminded him regularly ever since. He was too well aware that this time of blissful denial was nearly up, they had finally managed to recruit him and in several days time the CEO himself would join them and know at last that Kisara was alive. For Marik's part, he would be forced to stay out of the way, in the name of the grand scheme of things.

It was maddening, they spent so much time together and there were days he could have sworn she felt something, that she could come to love him in return given the chance.

He wished, he wished so badly that it could come to pass, that she had not been spoken for since the day she was born. He wanted to fall asleep beside her and be every bit as guilty as the position made them look. He wanted to steal her from Kaiba, from the organization and throw it in his sister's face.

He closed his eyes and in her sleep she shifted closer, he heard the game remote clatter to the floor. It was easy to pretend, when they were like this, that there was an intimacy more than that between best friends, that they had spent the evening engaged in activities other than playing Call of Duty. She always joked when asked about family that she had three siblings and she wasn't related to any of them. It stung every single time.

The thing that was hardest for him to stomach was that Ishizu had insisted Kisara not be told her fate until the time was right. She didn't know a damn thing, not the story of the high priest and the peasant girl, nor the origin of her power. But she was a person, the girl he loved, not a pawn to be offered to a man she had never met at the opportune moment, and it was wrong that she had no say in the matter whatsoever.

Days like this one would end, and the freedom to isolate themselves, to be impulsive, to fall asleep in the same room without repercussions would be lost. He tried not to imagine that she would share the same bond with Kaiba if Ishizu got her way. He frowned, she wasn't in it to help anyone, she was doing it because Seto Kaiba possessed vast amounts of untapped power and she wanted to get to him and hone those abilities before someone else did. Kisara was little more than bait, to ensure he would remain loyal to the organization.

She grumbled and rolled over to face him, her face scrunched up agitatedly, still completely unconscious. He needed to be more careful, Kisara wasn't as attuned to other's feelings as Orion but she was still a telepath and at such close range his troubled thoughts were bound to be loud, he was probably giving her nightmares.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly, deliberately, working to keep his mind blank. Her scent filling his nose and lungs with every breath, he carefully committed the moment to memory, clinging to his heightened awareness until exhaustion over took him.

Three hours after the break in:

Ishizu smiled triumphantly when she looked at the caller ID of her ringing mobile. "Right on schedule", she quipped, toying with millennium necklace fondly.

She hit "talk" and brought the device up to her ear.

"I want answers Ishtar", a low, rough voice demanded.

Her brow crinkled in annoyance, he really did need to learn to conform to the social niceties the rest of the world observed.

"Good afternoon Kaiba", she answered pointedly. He always tried very hard, but he could never frighten her.

He gave a half-formed grunt in response and continued, "I want to know what's wrong with me".

That was straightforward even for him, of course Ishizu wasn't surprised, one didn't live through the sort of things Kaiba had without changing, and he seemed to cope best by being as dispassionate as possible.

"You're going to have to elaborate, I don't have the millennium eye at the moment...", she fired back archly.

There was a pregnant pause, uncomfortable, and drawn out, before he finally murmured, "The nightmares...why am I having them?".

She was aware of course, that Kisara's memory would haunt him, but she hadn't realized it would get so bad. He sounded miserable and if he had called her for answers he had to be desperate, he would have turned to doctors and his machines first, naturally they had both failed him. Her hopes rose, she had him, all he had to do was come and catch a glimpse of her and Ishizu had her guarantee that he wasn't going anywhere.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you", she replied lightly, her acting had to be flawless for this to work.

"Probably not", he agreed, "But since when has that stopped you?". She chuckled in genuine amusement at that, Kisara was going to like him, her sense of humor was as bone-dry as his.

"It would be easier to explain in person", she forced herself to sound thoughtful, and not arrive at any particulars to quickly. She already knew the exact day and time he would come, but he couldn't realize that, it would only make him angry.

"Sure, let me drop everything and fly out", he answered derisively.

"Come now, you must have some free time, what about friday?", she had chosen the day ahead of the real one, leaving it to him to bump the meeting down and essentially seal his fate.

"That's no good", he sounded contemplative, "I could do Saturday night, Sunday is clear", he suggested.

"I believe that will work", she had to work hard to keep the laughter from her voice.

"Alright", there was another loud silence, "I still think fate is a load of bull", he reminded her at length.

"I know", she said serenely.

"I just don't know what else to do", he added.

"I know Kaiba".

Please review. : )