BakuraxRyou = OTP since 2004

"I said," Bakura snarled, pale lips spread tight in a frightening scowl. His voice plummeted to a deadly whisper, "take it off." By this time, he was mere inches away from the shy, timid Ryou, who looked like a deer in headlights.

The weaker of the two made no sudden movements, far too afraid of what would happen if he even flinched. If he did what he was told, there was still no telling what would ha– well, Ryou knew exactly what would happen, but his blood was running too cold and his heart was thumping too rapidly in his chest.

Bakura loomed across the room in the corner, towards the dresser where Ryou kept all the photos of his friends. He gave a quick, emotionless side glance before grinning so smoothly it made the hair on the back of Ryou's neck stand. He took one, two, and then three steps forward before he was fully in front of the shivering, doe-eyed teen. Ryou whimpered, instinctively cowering in the space between his nightstand and his bed.

Crouching eye-level, Bakura's tongue rolled from his mouth, wetting his cracked lips while his eyes widened in sadistic pleasure. "You know," he began, long, thin and pale fingers slowly sliding in the most unwanting way against the bottom hem of Ryou's jeans. As he began to speak, chocolate eyes met in the most intense, loathsome, and terrifying gaze. With pure excitement controlling his every movement, Bakura slowly leaned forward. Ryou pushed himself back against the wall, turning his head so his cheek stung against the cool paint. Bakura gave this no attention; it was all part of the same exact act just a different day.

Then Bakura, oh so gently, brushed a few strands of loose, silvery hair from his god-forsaken host. Planting his lips firmly to Ryou's ear, much to the latter's distaste, he breathed, "I'll make sure you never forget."