Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ A Shovel And Some Faith ❯ Chapter 9

Title: A Shovel And Some Faith - Chapter 9/10

Author: whosjeebus

Rating: NC-17

Pairing(s): Seto/Jou, Bakura/OMC, threesome

Beta: Jennie B. & AngryHamster (the gruesome twosome!)

Spoilers: Might spoil your dinner, but not really much else.

Warnings: Read at your own risk. Seriously. This fic contains situations of a decidedly grotesque nature. If you get squicked, and STILL keep reading, don't blame me for your nightmares. I warned ya. I will say no more. **looks shifty-eyed** THIS WARNING COUNTS DOUBLE FOR CHAPTER 9!!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, and probably never will. Kazuki Takahashi will most likely take a hit out on me if he ever reads this fic.

Summary: Seto's kinks have steadily become more and more extreme, much to Jounouchi's dismay. Has he finally gone TOO far with his latest fetish?




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Chapter 9:

(Sunday Night)


A full-fledged thunderstorm had erupted by the time Bakura returned to the graveyard later that night. He scaled the tall wrought-iron fence with ease and dropped to the ground silently behind the small mausoleum. Not that it would have mattered much if he'd made an awful racket in the process; any noise would have been drowned out by a combination of the torrential downpour and the loud, rumbling cracks of thunder from the tempestuous skies above. Although night was his element, Bakura had never quite gotten used to the clouds simply opening up at random intervals and spilling copious amounts of rainwater down on the unsuspecting populace. He was chilled to the bone, his bedraggled white hair lying limp and clinging irritatingly to his face and neck, his clothes completely soaked through and sticking uncomfortably to every contour of his body. Despite all these petty annoyances, he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this alive or invigorated. He fairly tingled from head to toe with excitement, and had to repeatedly fight down an irresistible urge to laugh maniacally from sheer enjoyment. Despite the rain, it was surely a glorious night to be alive!

He was about to make his way around to the front of the mausoleum when he caught sight of a flickering light within, followed by the sound of voices. Damn! When he'd checked in with Seiji, Kaiba had just been preparing to leave the estate, and Bakura was certain he'd timed his arrival perfectly. Surely Kaiba hadn't managed to beat him here anyway...? He quickly ducked behind the open double doors of the vault, listening intently as two burly funeral home workers emerged from inside the structure, the taller of the two standing just under the overhang and lighting a cigarette.

The second worker, a short, stocky man with thinning blond hair, looked at his leisurely smoking companion in confusion. "Sam, what are we doin?"

The other man, apparently Sam, noisily exhaled a cloud of smoke and looked down at the blond speculatively. "Don't know, Reg. All's I know is that I found an envelope with five hundred bucks in it taped to my locker earlier today. Had a note in it asking us to wait until tomorrow before sealing the vault on this stiff here. Was thinking I might split it with you fifty fifty if you can keep your trap shut about it." He flicked his spent cigarette onto the ground and crushed it under his boot heel, all the while giving his partner a meaningful stare.

Reg looked slightly doubtful about the situation at first, but from his vantage point, Bakura could practically see dollar signs light up in the man's eyes the longer he mulled it over. "I guess that would be alright then. I don't suppose it'll kill the kid to wait until the morning, now will it?" He guffawed loudly at his own tasteless joke as he darted out into the storm, cursing and pulling his jacket over his head as he ran.

Sam extinguished the lantern hanging just inside the doorway, chuckling under his breath as well. "Then I guess it wouldn't kill you, either, if I kept it to myself that it was actually a thousand dollars instead of five hundred." Bakura edged around the corner of the building as the man closed the mausoleum doors and hurried across the graveyard on the way to his truck, his passage among the trees and monuments sporadically lit from above by intermittent flashes of lightning.

"What a delightfully devious bastard," Bakura mused to himself as he slipped inside the abandoned mausoleum, closing the doors once more behind him. Certainly, the morbid surroundings had no effect on him one way or another, but it was a relief to be out of the rain. When he heard the sound of the workers' vehicle fading away, he relit the lantern and took stock of his surroundings. Two waist high stone vaults stood in the middle of the floor, both obviously unsealed, but only one remained opened and lidless, with Jounouchi's coffin resting next to it. The only distinguishing mark on the grey stone surface was a small brass placard affixed to one end, bearing Jounouchi's name, along with the dates of his birth and subsequent death. The rest of the room was simple and unadorned, and he took note of the fact that there were no small statuary strewn about to impede his movements in the darkness. It was really quite plain and depressing compared to the rich and elaborate tombs of ancient Egypt that he had plundered to make a name for himself so long ago. No, there really was only one dubious treasure housed here, and Bakura would make short work of the would-be looter himself. Despite the spartan furnishings, the lack of troublesome booby traps and curses was definitely a check in the plus column as far as the tomb robber was concerned. At least he hadn't been required to risk life and limb just to sneak in. This strange and fast-paced modern world in which he found himself trapped could be so BORING sometimes... He fingered the sharp hunting knife secured at his belt and pondered the vagaries of life that had put him on the opposite side of the fence this time around. The very IDEA that the king of thieves would actually be GUARDING a tomb would have sent him into hysterics just a few short millennia ago. But here he was, doing just that, and at the pharaoh's behest no less. Curiouser and curiouser. Distracted, he noticed that he'd nicked his thumb on the blade of his knife, and he cursed softly as he shoved the smarting digit in his mouth absent-mindedly. The blade's edge was sharper than he'd realized at first, and he idly wondered if Yami might appreciate a little souvenir from tonight...

Having gotten a quick idea regarding the layout of the interior, Bakura doused the light source once more and carefully concealed himself behind the second stone platform to await his quarry's arrival.

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Seto felt a bit like a burglar or a thief, creeping about in the rainy, darkened cemetery at night, dressed all in black and carrying a small knapsack full of tools. He'd had a bit of difficulty navigating his long limbs over the huge iron fence, and was actually sporting a small gash on his leg courtesy of one of the sharp, black spires. Getting back out again was going to be a bitch, as he was already losing track of where his limousine was parked, but all these logistical considerations were simply minor setbacks in the face of what he had come here to do. He'd already made sure everything was in place, down to the most minute detail. Mokuba would be gone for the rest of the week, and once he had accomplished his goal, he could spend the rest of that time trying to get his life back in some semblance of order. There was no turning back now. He readjusted the small sack over his shoulder, and trudged onward through the pouring rain to the far corner of the graveyard, stumbling over the uneven ground and tree roots as he relied more on instinct than anything else to help him find his way.

He found the small, secluded mausoleum without too much more trouble, and he heaved a deep sigh of relief as he quietly eased his way within, shaking water from his hair and clothing. He fumbled around in the dark momentarily before his hand found the lantern hanging behind the door, and he gave a startled yelp when he burned the tips of his fingers on the heated glass. He must have come in right behind the funeral home workers, he surmised. Now to see if they'd followed his instructions... He cautiously relit the lantern and held it out before him, blinking his eyes to adjust to the sudden intrusion of the wavering light. Jounouchi's coffin lay at his feet, not yet sealed in the impenetrable stone vault, just as he'd requested. Perfect. He wasted no further time as he hung the lantern back up before dropping to his knees and unzipping the waterproof black duffle he had carried on his back.

Rummaging around one-handed for the small crowbar inside, he used his free hand to caress the lid of Jou's coffin reverently. In the flickering shadows, the casket gleamed a dull, burnished silver, and Seto found this colour to be vaguely offensive. Jou's coffin should be a glorious, glossy bronze he told himself, the colour of his puppy's eyes when he felt passionate about something, or angry because of one of Seto's many taunts. He smiled fondly in remembrance, but the hesitant expression faltered as he realized he would never see those amber eyes flash fire at him again. "I know it's not what you wanted to hear, Jou, but I AM sorry. This is the only way I could think of to show you how much you meant to me, and - " He swallowed, emotion choking his words as he worked the crowbar beneath the lid and pried upward with all his strength. "And I just couldn't let you go so easily."

The coffin flew open with a crash, and Seto fell back solidly on his rump as his leverage abruptly vanished. He scrambled up onto his knees and peered inside longingly, but the sight that met his eyes brought tears of anguish as opposed to ones of joy. His entire life, he'd heard others speak of how once the soul had departed the body, all that remained was an empty shell, but he'd never had the chance to test that particular theory until now. He and Mokuba hadn't been permitted to attend their parents' funeral, and, needless to say, when Gozaburo had been laid to rest, it was a closed casket affair. What a false claim that was; nestled in the satiny peach interior of the coffin was JOU. In every sense, this was the boy he had known and loved, and it broke his heart all over again to be so brutally confronted with the consequences of his own actions. With no one about to witness his breakdown, Seto released his grief anew, words pouring out of him in a flood to accompany his tears. "This is all my fault! If I'd never - If only I hadn't - " he sobbed, unable to finish his sentence, for he was self-aware enough to admit that he'd do it ALL again in a heartbeat. Not even Jounouchi's death had dulled the craving he still felt for his lover, and even the prospect of having him alive and safe again this very moment was insufficient enticement to convince Seto to disavow what they'd had together. No, there was no going back; there would be no do-over or rematch this time; his actions tonight would have to suffice.

He gazed down at Jounouchi's still form and again saw only the boy whose body he could recreate by touch alone. He'd mapped it enough by hand to be able to close his eyes and feel the contours of smooth flesh beneath his fingertips -- every dip, every curve, each firmly muscled plane and tender hollow that had been his for the taking. How could anyone possibly believe that his puppy deserved to be shut away from the light, sealed forever in stone and darkness? He couldn't allow this to happen until he'd given Jou a glimpse into his heart, and had begged one final time for the forgiveness that he didn't deserve and would never be granted. Jounouchi had always had an unreasonable fear of the dark, and without fail, any mention of ghosts or ghouls had sent him into near-hysterics. It didn't seem right that he should be entombed in such an eerie setting. Seto held onto the slim hope that his presence might once again offer some comfort, and quiet his lover's irrational fright. The teenager had been laid to rest in his casual, everyday clothes: jeans, sneakers, t-shirt and his favourite worn blue denim jacket. He even had his original duel disk affixed to his left wrist, Duel Monsters deck loaded and ready. Whomever had been in charge of making the burial arrangements had obviously known Katsuya well, and Seto suspected most of the blond's friends had to have had some influence in the matter. Equipping Jounouchi for the afterlife with the various accoutrements of his daily existence struck Seto as a vaguely Egyptian trait, with Yami's telltale influence evident throughout. Jounouchi might be readied for battle and judgment somewhere on the other side, but Seto fervently prayed that his own pathetic gesture would not go unnoticed. He carefully reached into the coffin and removed the heavy electronic device, setting it aside on the stone floor. His fingers brushed cold, unyielding flesh, but he felt no repugnance or sudden urge to pull away. This was Jou, as Seto himself had made him. Denying that fact was tantamount to denying his feelings, and even if it was too late to acknowledge those feelings publicly, he could yet have this one moment in time to demonstrate them to the only person who had any right to know; the one person he'd been most determined to hide them from in the first place. There would be NO denial here tonight, and he would see this through to the end.

Seto reached into the bag once more and removed a small pair of manicurist's scissors, the delicate instrument seemingly dwarfed by his long, slim fingers. He leaned forward and carefully slipped the curved tips between Jounouchi's lips, meticulously snipping the tiny flesh coloured stitches holding them together. With this first task completed, he drew out a set of long, narrow tweezers and made short work of the remaining threads that dangled loosely, as well as using them to remove the cotton packing that helped fill out Jou's slackened jaw line. Seto sat back and observed the results of his efforts thus far. The mortician had used make-up sparingly, as there had been no scheduled viewing of the body, and the only evidence of trauma whatsoever was the glaring band of ligature marks around the blond's throat. Seto's eyes, with a mind of their own, skated over the accusing blemishes in agitation, preferring to fix themselves once more on Jounouchi's face. Without the packing to fill out his cheeks, Jou's features appeared to have a stark, slightly hollowed out look to them; as if, perhaps, he hadn't been treated to a decent meal in some time. He was much paler than normal, but with his natural light tan still evident, he seemed far from corpse-like in Seto's estimation. Jou's full, pink mouth gaped open slightly, and Seto leaned down to gently caress the cool cheek with his hand, slipping his fingers around and under the blond head, raising it slightly to press their lips together. Sense memory overtook him then, and at the familiar crush of teeth and tongues he lost a fraction of his control, gripping Jou's hair tightly in his fist and thrusting wetly within the confines of the cold, dry cavern. Despite appearances, none of this was familiar to him, and Seto felt a momentary surge of panic mingled with disgust. Jou's mouth tasted of bitter chemicals, his lips dry and brittle, his tongue too unresponsive; but there, underneath it all, Seto could detect just a hint of the taste that was uniquely Jou, and with it came all the desire and yearning that had built up inside of him. His passion flared anew, and he groaned wantonly into the smaller boy's mouth before pulling back and harshly willing himself to remain patient. His task remained far from complete. He slowed his breathing, inhaling slowly and deliberately, diligently coaxing his mind and body to obey him without question before he continued.

He bent over to retrieve a small, brown glass bottle from his knapsack, unscrewing the lid and using a small eyedropper to place a thick, viscous fluid along the edges of Jou's closed eyelids. With a cotton swab, he painstakingly massaged the solvent into the creases, feeling the glue there gradually begin to loosen. Taking a small hand towel, he tenderly wiped away all traces of the residue before using both thumbs to gently pry open Jou's eyes. Seto gave a severe start and pulled back in fright when he was met by a dull, metallic gleam instead of the warm amber orbs he had been expecting. He nearly laughed aloud when it dawned on him that Jou's unsettling appearance was due to the rounded metal caps used to prevent his eyes from having a sunken appearance. He deftly removed the caps with his fingers, delighted at the sight that greeted him underneath. Although Jou's eyes were bloodshot, and had taken on a slight concavity, the corneas remained white and unblemished. Seto couldn't imagine anything he possessed, anything he cherished, short of Mokuba himself, that he would not have given up at that moment, just to see those soulful brown eyes dilate and fix on his face as he gazed into them.

Now that his preparation was nearly complete, Seto felt confident enough to proceed with the next step. Never taking his eyes from Jounouchi's, he placed both hands on either side of the smaller boy's face and spoke softly, haltingly, as he stroked his lover's temples with restless fingers. "Don't be afraid, Katsuya. I'm not here to hurt you. That's never going to happen again." Seto kept up his soothing discourse as his hands travelled lower, slowly divesting the blond of his clothing. "I'm going to make love to you for the first time. I'll prove to you that I can be gentle; that I have the capacity to love. You'll see." He stroked up and down Jounouchi's nude body, idly toying with the small valve that protruded from his flesh just to the right of his navel. Seto knew from his research that this was how the mortician had pumped embalming fluid into the body to help preserve Jou's major internal organs, and aside from the bruises on his neck, it was the only factor that spoiled Seto's precious illusion that his love was merely sleeping. Everything was perfect. Jou was perfect, and Seto felt his heart constrict with longing. This was it; the moment of truth. He closed Jounouchi's eyes once more as he took a moment to pack away his tools and fold the blond's discarded clothing for later. Seto began loosening the top few buttons on his own shirt as he raked his gaze down Jounouchi's body, enjoying the anticipatory sensation of his burgeoning arousal straining against the confines of his slacks. "I promise that everything's going to work out alright. I didn't see it before, and I'm sorry. I didn't see what I needed to do; I didn't know that you loved me." He knew that he was babbling, but he had to make sure that Jou was aware of his intentions before he began. "No more hurting, no more pain, I swear it. That's all anyone has ever done to you, and you deserve better than that. Someday I'll join you, and I plan on spending the rest of our eternity together loving you the way you deserve." He lifted Jounouchi's still form in both arms and placed him gently on the stone surface of the opposite vault, kissing his lips once, softly, before turning to retrieve the small bottle of lube from his bag. Hearing a faint rustling sound from behind, Seto whirled around abruptly to be confronted with a sight that froze the very blood in his veins.

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From his hiding place behind the second vault, Bakura watched Kaiba's actions with growing interest and curiosity. Hearing him speak as he made his preparations, the brunet's intentions soon became clear. Bakura smothered a small, mirthful snicker at Ryou's abject horror once he'd managed to assemble all the pieces of the puzzle. After the boy's traumatized consciousness had fled, Bakura made a mental note to replay all the delicious images again for his hikari later. He silently speculated to himself that the only disadvantage to acquiring his own body would be the decreased ability to torture Ryou on a daily basis. Currently, this necessitated little to no effort on his part, and being forced to relinquish that convenience would be unfortunate. Looking on the bright side, it simply meant that he'd be required to come up with new and more inventive ways to mess with his former host's head. Pulling himself away from such delightful deliberations was less than tempting but he had a job to do, and with the limited amount of time allotted him, he had to sort out his next move and formulate some kind of plan. When it became apparent that Kaiba had every intention of boning the pharaoh's little lapdog right here and now, he found his ire rising in steady increments. It was really nothing he hadn't seen before, but he intensely disliked this mad swirl of feelings that his discovery had invoked. Outrage and anger warred with powerful arousal, but above all that, memories long shut away behind locked doors threatened to break free and overwhelm him. Too many thoughts clamored for his attention at once, and he was briefly forced to relive a number of unpleasant sensations as he struggled to regain his equilibrium. Dammit, why was this affecting him in such a ridiculous manner? It was nothing like... THAT day. No, they were nothing at all alike, he insisted to himself. His iron control faltered, and for a single moment in time, he was swept up and tossed about on a sea of remembrance.

Despite the painful associations that came with it, Bakura regarded the day he escaped from slavery as one of the greatest personal triumphs in his long and tumultuous life. He'd been beaten to a bloody pulp and left for dead on the side of road, all for the unforgivable crime of insolence to his savage and heartless master. There had really been nothing he could have done to prevent it; after all, he certainly hadn't grown up accustomed to the cruel institution of slavery -- quite the opposite, in fact. As a child, it had never occurred to Bakura that he ought to appreciate the value of freedom; he simply took for granted that he was entitled to a lackadaisical and carefree, albeit poor, lifestyle. He may not have had much regard or respect for his elders, authority figures, or even religion, but he sorely wished he had known and appreciated the worth that was afforded to one who was fortunate enough to call only himself master. Once thrust into the barbarous system that involved the buying and selling of human lives, the lessons of humility and obedience had been particularly difficult for him to learn. But once again, none of it mattered now except for the fact that it all came back to one simple thing: that bastard Yami and the dreadful choice he had forced Bakura to make over 3000 years ago.

The new pharaoh's tenuous rule had not yet been cemented, so the subsequent events had probably been easily forseeable, but Bakura couldn't quite summon the magnanimity to admit that it might have been his own fault for getting himself captured at a time of such serious political upheaval. Yami had probably fancied himself merciful when, peering down his regal nose at the lowly grave robber dragged before him in chains, he had offered his defiant prisoner a choice: public execution or a life of slavery. Ignorant of the horrors that a slave faced in everyday life, and ignoring the voice that protested he was choosing a coward's way out, the young thief had chosen to live. Bakura doubted he would make that same choice again today, were the offer presented.

All these thoughts and reflections had plagued his feverish brain as he lay by the roadside, feeling his life draining slowly from his veins and making reluctant peace with his disowned gods before he was presented to them to stand judgment. He had experienced a surge of hope when the high priest's entourage had happened by, and Seth himself had sent out an aide to ascertain the injured youth's condition. The man had thought Bakura dead, and had dutifully reported as such back to the high priest. This assumption apparently hadn't prevented the worthless wretch of an underling from returning later and brutally raping the grievously wounded boy before once more leaving him for dead.

It was hatred and a burning desire for revenge, simple and unadorned, that had enabled Bakura to pull his battered body out of that ditch and doggedly struggle to transform himself into the King of Thieves; the very bane of pharaoh Atemu's reign and existence. Bakura's power base and sheer number of followers rivalled those of the great god-king of Egypt himself, and he owed it all to the hatred that burned within him, fierce and bright. Hatred had nursed him back to health and given him the drive to better himself so that he might, one day, exact revenge on the man who had once brought him so low. It was hatred that had caused him to leap at the chance to bind his soul to the Millennium Ring, enabling him to follow his nemesis far into the future so that he might continue his quest for vengeance unabated. It was hatred that would see him through to the bitter end, when he stood over his loathsome enemy's grave and laughed in triumph. The rest of the world could burn to ashes around him for all he cared, but he WOULD live to see that day. There was nothing that anyone could do to stop him; his hatred was too powerful a force to be denied.

Despite the memories invoked by Kaiba's obvious intentions, Bakura was far from traumatized by reliving them, however intensely. He had long ago replaced such useless emotions as self-pity and despair with more practical ones like cruelty, cunning, and deceit. Utilizing these skills, Bakura's darkly brilliant mind had already come up with a fitting punishment for Kaiba Seto. The pharaoh CLAIMED to have a desire for vengeance that surpassed all familial ties, but Bakura wasn't quite willing to take the chance that Yami's detestably soft-hearted nature might win out in the end. Killing the re-incarnation of his beloved cousin might be just the loophole the bastard would need to feel justified in denying Bakura his prize. Mentally reviewing what he knew of the relationship between Jounouchi and Kaiba, the wily thief realized that if he played his cards in JUST the right way, he might be able to push the unstable boy over the edge. Bakura would get the credit for uncovering the pup's killer, while Kaiba himself would be responsible for his own downfall. The requirements for Yami's so-called vengeance would be MORE than satisfied, he reasoned.

As Kaiba turned away from Jounouchi's body, Bakura gracefully rose to his feet and reached behind himself for the knife at his belt. He placed the blade's edge at Jounouchi's throat and faced his prey with a ready snarl as he awaited Kaiba's next move. "This scene is all very touching and sweet, but it would seem that you, Kaiba Seto, are nothing but a murderer."

For one terrifying instant, Seto was convinced that he stood in the presence of an avenging spirit. Bakura's visage was ghostly pale, and his sharp features, combined with the white halo of his hair and skin against the darkness of his clothing, had the usually unshakable CEO frightened beyond the capacity for rational thought. Seeing that Bakura was indeed, at least for the moment, a being of flesh and blood, Seto dove for his bag of tools on the floor, rolling nimbly and regaining his feet with the small crowbar in hand. He advanced menacingly on the white-haired boy with his weapon brandished before him.

Bakura prodded Jounouchi's face with the tip of his knife. "Ah ah ah! Stay where you are or I'll disfigure your little pretty-boy for you. He won't look quite so fuckable once I'm done with him."

Ignoring this threat, Seto gripped the crowbar tighter and made a lunge for Bakura, but the tomb robber deftly twisted his wrist and drew the knife down Jounouchi's chest as a line of red-dyed embalming fluid seeped up in its wake.

Seto froze. "Stop!" he shouted, strangling on his own fear as he dropped the weapon with a loud clatter.

"You didn't actually think I was joking did you? " Bakura turned the knife and playfully dragged the dull edge along the column of Jou's throat, admiring the livid marks that adorned the pale skin. "NICE work, by the way. Very professional. No, if I were joking I would have said something like, a rabbi, a priest, and a minister walk into a bar, and the bartender says - "

"Just tell me what you want, Bakura. I'm not in the mood to play your little games."

Bakura seemed vaguely affronted at having his punchline interrupted, but he quickly rallied and appeared willing enough to play along for now. "What do I want? Now that's such a GOOD question. What I'd LIKE is to shout your dirty little secret from every rooftop in Domino and sit back to watch as the hyenas gather to take you down. But what I WANT is simple, really." He reached out a hand and ran his fingertips lightly through the pooled red liquid on Jounouchi's chest as he gave Seto a frank stare. "I want to join in on the fun, Seto. You don't mind if I call you Seto, do you? Surely you wouldn't deny me a little taste in exchange for keeping silent, hmm?" He licked his fingertips, maintaining eye contact with his prey as he watched for enlightenment to dawn in those midnight blue orbs.

Blinking slowly, Seto mulled over the other boy's words. "I don't understand." There was NO way he could mean...

"I'm talking about your toy here, Rich-Boy. I want in on the action, pure and simple. You. Me. Him. Us. Everybody's happy." Bakura smirked as he added, "Well, not the pup here, but it's not like he's really going to care, now is he? YOU'VE taken care of that little obstacle for us already, haven't you, Seto? He won't be complaining about ANY of the things you yearn to do to him ever again." His voice dropped lower, his tone changing to that of a deep, conspiratorial whisper. "Isn't that the way you planned it?"

"NO! It's not like that! It - It was - "

"An accident?" Bakura laughed merrily at that, and Seto cringed at the sound. "Oh, that's just PRICELESS! You can keep telling yourself that if you wish, but I can see through you; I know how much you hate being denied." The hypnotic, purring voice wormed its way into Seto's brain as he struggled to deny any fragment of truth behind the taunting words. "You hungered to push further, harder, faster. But the poor thing just wasn't able to keep up, was he? His limits weren't equal to your desire, and you decided to do something about it. Even if it wasn't a conscious decision...the end results were still the same."

Seto shook his head vehemently in denial. "You're wrong! You're just...wrong." He suddenly felt very tired, frustrated with this pointless debate, and despairing of his wasted efforts. Everything was ruined. All his designs and hard work were rendered suddenly useless by Bakura's intrusion into his carefully planned redemption.

The expression on Bakura's face wavered somewhere between a falsely understanding smile and an all out triumphant smirk. "AM I wrong? You might want to give that particular idea a bit more introspection, Seto dear. Look, I'll make this simple." Bakura shoved the knife back into his belt loop and reached down to unzip his leather trousers. He bent over slightly and hefted Jounouchi's limp form in order to position it face down across the surface of the stone vault, leaving the tousled golden head dangling off of one edge. He fisted one hand in the blond mane as he freed his erection with the other, dark eyes regarding Seto intently. "Even though I got here early, I'll let you have first go at that end. I'm feeling remarkably generous at the moment, so I'll just wait my turn. Let me know when you're finished up there, would you?" Stroking his pale cock, he eased it past Jounouchi's slack lips with a deep, throaty groan. He briefly met Seto's shocked gaze over the expanse of Jou's back before closing his eyes in ecstasy. He gave a low moan and tilted his head back, baring his neck to Seto's view.

The stunned CEO spared a moment to calculate whether or not he was fast enough to launch himself at Bakura and wrap his hands around that slim neck, choking the life out of him. He'd certainly kill Ryou in the process, not to mention that he'd only be creating another body he'd have to explain away later, if he could. He had no proof that the spirit of the Ring even COULD be killed, for that matter. Surely others had tried in the past, and failed. Seto watched helplessly as Bakura moved his hips back and forth swiftly, fucking Jounouchi's mouth with wild abandon, low purring noises and breathy gasps escaping from between pursed lips.

"Ra, YES! This feels SO good!" Bakura opened his eyes a fraction, gazing down at Jounouchi's face and giving a particularly forceful thrust, entranced by the vision of his cock sliding wetly in and out of that deliciously sinful mouth. He revelled in the lack of a bothersome gag reflex as well as all the annoying precautions involved in dealing with a willing participant. Mind-numbing pleasure loosened his tongue to a dangerous degree, and he was unable to resist the temptation of taunting his quarry with his ruthless words. "Do you like that, my little cocksucker? Do you enjoy taking me ALL the way down that lovely, tight throat? I don't hear you running that big, loud mouth of yours now, eh, Jounouchi? Do you know how often I've DREAMED of this?" As his motions became more erratic, Bakura's mocking words degenerated into whispered exhalations as he leaned close to Jounouchi's ear. "There's no pharaoh here to save you this time, pup. Without your friends to back you up, you're nothing but a convenient hole, aren't you? I almost wish you were still alive, just so I could see the look in your eyes when I come down your throat..." Deciding to save his breath, Bakura allowed his insults to taper off into grunts and guttural moans as he neared his climax. He wrapped his arms tightly about Jounouchi's head and bent at the waist, thrusting rapidly in short, sharp jabs, his eyes once more shut tightly.

Seto stared mutely at this new horror, unable to take his eyes off the appalling scene before him, but becoming unbearably aroused by it nonetheless. Mindlessly, blindly, unthinking, he tore open his own pants and stroked himself to full hardness. He frantically fumbled around on the floor until he came up with the tweezers, parting Jounouchi's buttocks with one hand while he carefully reached in to remove the cotton packing placed there to soak up any seepage from the embalming fluids. He violently flung the packing and tweezers away from himself, grabbing the small bottle of lubrication and slicking his hardened member with trembling hands. Some final, lucid part of his brain was insisting that he stop this madness, but Seto was too far gone to pay it any heed.

He plunged himself into Jou's unresponsive body in one long, sure stroke, his own body acknowledging no command other than those intended to bring about his own release. Sheathed inside his dead lover, he was instantly aware of tightness and cold; a chill deeper than the surrounding air. The sensation swiftly overwhelmed him and raced up his shivering form. His mind screamed at him that this wasn't right; this wasn't Jounouchi, and this violent and horrific coupling wasn't at all what he had come here to do. But his body no longer responded to such rational stimuli, and his pelvis rocked forward of its own accord, thrusting against Jounouchi's backside in a familiar, practiced rhythm. Seto wrapped his hands around frigid hips, the flesh remaining soft and smooth, but still somehow WRONG. He dug his fingers in hard, no small part of him relishing the fact that Jou made no outcry at this harsh treatment. For one delirious moment, his mind was spurred to contemplate further heights of perversion, and his head was dizzy with the endless possibilities of what he could do to Jounouchi; what new brutalities he might be capable of.

Tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes as he pumped faster, more furiously, giving himself over to pure sensation. He knew his release was inevitable, and for the first time ever since becoming intimate with his puppy, Seto simply wanted it to be over with as quickly as possible. He felt a tingling tightness creep its way up his legs and center itself in his lower spine. With no more warning than this, he came hard, shooting his release deep into the still form beneath him, harsh sounds forced from his lips in great, braying sobs. He collapsed bonelessly across Jou's unmoving back, immersed in and surrounded by nothing but coldness and despair, chilled to his very core as the sobs continued, wracking his body with their unrelenting assault. Dimly, he became aware of Bakura reaching his own shuddering completion with a sharp, almost silent intake of air, and Seto could feel Jou's body trembling with the force of the white-haired boy's aftershocks. Bakura tiredly slumped forward over Jounouchi, his face resting close to Seto's own, the air from his panted gasps for breath puffing out wisps of auburn hair from Seto's forehead. The brunet began a slow, blissful slide into unconsciousness, his body seeking the oblivion his mind at long last seemed willing to grant, his very thoughts desperately skittering away from the atrocity he had just committed. He was startled out of his stupor by a loud, inarticulate roar from Bakura, and he lifted his head weakly to glare at the thief with unrestrained malice.

"Gods! That was AMAZING! I guess I know now what you saw in him, Kaiba." The tomb robber stood up abruptly, fairly bouncing with suppressed mirth as he briskly zipped himself up in his leather trousers. He gently petted the top of Jounouchi's head, reaching down and running a finger through the white fluid dribbling from the blond's lips. "He certainly is an obedient thing -- have to hand it to you for that. Apparently, you've trained him well, which honestly, given his lack of intelligence, I would have thought an impossible task, really." He leaned over, drawing his tongue sensuously over Jounouchi's chin, lapping up every last trace of his own spent passion. He stood once more, a smirk firmly affixed to his angular face. "Hmm...even if I COULDN'T quite convince him to swallow." He laughed raucously at his own brand of humour as he eyed Seto speculatively, taking in the brunet's shivering, weeping form. "Are you about finished up back there, Rich-Boy? This is so much fun, I'm almost ready for another go!"

With a wordless cry, Seto pulled himself from Jounouchi's body and blindly fumbled with his zipper until he he'd managed to fasten his pants. He staggered back to lean against the cold stone wall of the mausoleum, his legs trembling, before righting himself and turning abruptly to yank open the heavy double doors. He ran out into the raging storm, stumbling awkwardly in the darkness, not looking back. Bakura regarded the retreating figure smugly. "So you're not staying, then?" He shrugged, running a pale hand through his disheveled white locks. "Pity. I'd have liked to have a go at you, as well. It's probably for the best anyway. Might not have the stamina to deal with a live one on top of everything else. I'm not as young as I used to be." Bakura gave a small shiver at the wind and rain blowing forcefully into the enclosed space. "Inconsiderate bastard could have at least closed the door on his way out." He kicked the doors shut with his foot and clapped his hands together briskly. "Well! Looks like it's just you and me now eh, Blondie?" His dark eyes narrowed menacingly. "And YOU, of course, my DEAR, SWEET hikari..." he purred. Ryou's consciousness lurked just out of reach, huddled fearfully in the far recesses of Bakura's mind. It just simply wouldn't DO to have his precious host miss ALL the fun, now would it? He concentrated on drawing Ryou out from his tenuous shelter and to the forefront of their shared psyche, the other boy mentally kicking and clawing in protest the entire way. "What's the matter, pet? You wanted him, and now you've got him. Isn't this everything you ever dreamed of?" He proceeded to drop his pants and turned with malevolent glee to regard the feast of marble flesh laid out before him. Running his hands roughly up Jou's back and scoring the pale skin with his sharp fingernails, Bakura entered the already well-prepped opening, taking Jounouchi roughly; the sound of Ryou's anguished screams echoing pleasantly in his head, mingling with his own howling laughter.

Outside, the storm raged unabated, thunder and lightning competing fiercely for prominence, each attempting to overshadow the other with their respective force and brilliance, as the deranged laughter continued on into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~*****~~~~~~~~~~

tbc