Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ As In Mine ❯ Demon! Hellspawn! ( Chapter 2 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Title: As In Mine
Author: Kitteh
Disclaimer: No own...pity.
Summary: When Malik is dumped in the middle of the desert for denying the Pharaoh, who says he can't choose another king for himself?

*~*~*~*~*~*

Life was not always easy, of course not, in fact, it never was. Maybe that was why he felt drawn to this man, whose life had not been easy as well, as he was to find out later.

Malik had been born in a small village on one of the many small islands in the Nile delta fifteen summers ago as the only child of regular people...maybe not that regular. While his mother had been Egyptian, his father had come from across the sea with those fancy ships they had and settled down on the small island as he had fallen in love with the woman. And yet, even if his mother had lived there all her life, people were wary of her new husband, and that was why Malik was labelled 'exotic' because of his hair and eyes.

Guards passed their village one day, harassed by crocodiles, the giant beasts snapping at the boats they were sailing on. Apparently, the freshly crowned Pharaoh wanted to know how many people he ruled over and had sent guards out to count. And count they did, sometimes twice or thrice, because royal guards weren't the sharpest tools in the box...although the priest that travelled with them was much more intelligent and glanced secretly for any slaves to be taken.

And two weeks later, they came back for Malik, and plucked him away from family and friends to be brought to the palace.

"Stop! Let me go!"

"Stop struggling, child. This will be over much sooner if you don't."

The woman chuckled to herself at watching the boy she was supposed to wash and dress to be presented to the new Pharaoh as a 'welcome gift' on the throne. He looked more like a drowned rat at the moment than a stunning and exotic slave. A pleasure slave, she figured, and scrubbed away at his hair contently, making it shine like sunshine as it was dry again, and dressed him as she was supposed to.

"Very nice, child. You make a good one.", she said approvingly, looking the youth over when she was done.

Malik had his arms crossed, pouting sourly. His eyes were lined with dark kohl, making them look slightly slanted, golden bands around his upper arms and one around his thigh, visible because of the slit that separated the silken fabric up to the boy's hip, where the cream coloured fabric was topped with a hand-wide belt-like piece of the same fabric, laced with golden threads and bands again.

"Go, go. Out with you.", she ushered him along, making the boy hiss and glare at her, even as the door shut behind him unmercifully and he was presented to guards who were supposed to take him into the throne room.

Of course, hands were wandering all over him as they had him in their middle, each brutish man holding onto one arm, but it was no good that the other hand was free. Everytime he felt one run over his ass, he growled at them, which made them chuckle.

"Quite the little wildcat."

"The Pharaoh will have much fun with him, I suppose..."

But he hadn't, not at all. Quite different, the situation turned out to be, as Malik had promptly bit the ruler's hand hard as it had tried to touch his face, making the Pharaoh storm from the room with a bleeding hand and an offended ego.

*~*

There was no time to daydream right now, the demon had seen him! And who else could it be than a demon, who else would be out in the desert at such a time of day, or night rather? Moreover, the demon had a hand on his head, in his hair, and if he would run now, his hair would suffer. What to do?

Meanwhile, Bakura had the most fun watching the pretty little thing fret. He watched the boy shift and squirm uncomfortably as he seemed to be pondering what to do now, and quite frantically, the panic painting a beautiful picture over the sweet little face...heh heh.

But then, his hand felt lonely, and he blinked himself back to reality, to find the little slave gone, scrambling through the sand clumsily a few feet away already. Of course, he could not let him get away with that, after all, the one who found it can keep it...right?

Even if false, Bakura got up and easily caught hold of the boy, after all he was more skilled in walking through sand, and not barefoot like the child was.

"Hold on there, come here...now look at that."

The blonde youth had whirled around, stunning Bakura with the colour of his hair once again. But no matter how hard the struggle, the grip on the boy's wrist didn't lessen or soften. Finally, Malik gave up, and glared up at the demon.

"Get away from me, you hell spawn!"

"Is that a compliment?"

Huffing, the boy yanked his wrist away finally, distressed and furious at the casual gesture the demon had let him go as if knowing he couldn't get away anyways...which was true, but not the point! He strutted back towards the ruin, stumbling once or twice ungracefully, which brought an embarrassed blush onto his cheeks. What use was a good exit if it wasn't good? Stupid.

Meanwhile, the thief king smirked to himself and watched the little thing go...it really wasn't as if he could escape in a desert with the next town miles and miles away still. The way the flimsy, silky...well, thing, the boy wore marked him as a pleasure slave, but the boy did not talk like a slave, nor did slaves have that defiant little spark in their eyes like this one. Bakura figured he wasn't broken in yet...which could be a good, or a bad thing. Good if he respected the child. Bad if he was going to keep him. He followed him, though, to find him curled up in a niche between to ruined, blackened walls that had once belonged to a temple, which had belonged to a city, which had long ago burned down, abandoned, and left for the sand to devour it beneath it. Only this few walls had remained the rounded walls of a tower, curved in the sand. A few blocks gone, that was where the boy cowered now, shivering in the cold desert night.

Was it normal for him to care? Well, it certainly was, if he was to make this little slave his own, and if it was only to spite royalty and their antics! Not that he needed a pleasure slave. He didn't. He could go into towns and take whomever he wanted. But then again, this was tiresome and coupled with lots of yelling and crying...

The blonde head rose as something was dropped onto him. In the darkness, the colour was indefinable, but it smelled like spices and warmth and horses. A nice smell, if you thought about it, really. The demon stood in front of him.

"What do you want, my blood? Or my soul?"

"Don't rush things, little one. First, it would be good if you did not freeze to death. We'll see about your blood in the morning."

It was probably better not to ask or protest, because the cloak, at least he thought it was a cloak, was warmed with the demon's body heat and shielded him nicely against the biting gush of wind rushing by every few minutes. Curling and pulling the heavy fabric around himself tightly, he was asleep in seconds.

*~*~*~*

Morning found Malik still in his niche, yet without the cloak again. Opening his eyes drowsily, he found it next to him on the sand; the air was chilly, but nowhere as icy as the night had been, and he quickly wrapped the cloak around himself again as he got up. It was red. The colour of blood. Aw, he'd known it...it was probably coloured with innocent children's blood!

But the demon had to be somewhere, right? And so he looked around, seeing the ruins, faint marks in the sand where horses had walked (probably the group that had brought him here), the rock the demon had sat on last night and he had hid behind...Malik wouldn't even have noticed them if the demon's horse hadn't whinnied for his master to awake. Surprisingly, it didn't sprout horns, or fangs...it was a completely normal greyish-silver steed that puffed breath at him when he approached, touching the dark grey nose with his hand and petting it, smiling.

"Seems she likes you.", came a voice behind him, and the boy squeaked and jumped, whirling to find the demon facing him. Of course, the night being as dark as it had been, he had not seen the fiend's face...which looked perfectly human. A-hah, a trick!

Dark blue eyes watched Malik calmly from beneath almost white bangs, almost aristocratic features calm and emotionless if it wasn't for the faint smirk playing around the demon's mouth. Also, Malik noticed, he still wore the other's cloak...making the tall man shirtless. It was hard not to let his eyes stray down the nicely muscled shoulders, chest, and abdomen...another trick to fool him, Malik was sure of that!

An uncomfortable silence rose between them as they stared at each other, each secretly checking out the other out of the corner of their eyes, before the blonde broke it.

"Seems like it."

"Yes...well, that's good, because I don't have a horse for you with me at the moment."

"Wha..?", Malik blinked up at the demon incredulously. "I'm not going with you! I want to keep my soul!"

There was a confused blink from the other male as well. "Who said something about your sou...oh. Yes." The conversation, if one could call it that, from last night. And who was he to disappoint the boy?

"You had my cloak to keep you warm, so you owe me a favour now."

"I don't care about your cloak!"

"Then why don't you give it back, hm?"

He chuckled when the boy pouted and drew it tighter around himself, because of the chilly morning. The sun had not yet risen over the horizon, only sending it's rays to illuminate the world and wake it for her grand entrance.

And so came it that about an hour later, as the sun hung low over the desert, Malik was pouting in front of Bakura, as he had learned the demon's name, on the silvery steed that brought them wherever really, who was he to know?

"And, so, why did the gorillas drop you out here?"

The blonde looked up at the light conversation tone, and squirmed once more against the strong arm around his middle to show that he was not going to fall off, even if Bakura didn't hold him. It was hot, too, and the bare chest against his equally bare back, both glinting with a sheen of sweat already, made him distinctly uncomfortable.

"It's a sob story.", he said dryly, as if to escape it, but Bakura only chuckled.

"So make me cry."

"They took me from my home only a week ago, because of the Pharaoh's birthday..." He felt the growl in the chest behind him more than he heard it. "I was to be a present. Some good little toy he can use and throw away again then. But, I misbehaved, and he ordered them to take me out there for punishment."

"That means they'll be coming back to pluck you from the desert again."

More a statement than a question, Bakura mused about that...and was kind of glad the boy could not see the evil grin curling his mouth. Oooh, so this was the Pharaoh's toy, the hated, spoiled brat's...and if he threw it away already, it was not even stealing. Although, it wouldn't have itched the King of Thieves, of course, why the hell else would he be called that if he didn't steal for a living? Currently, though, his stash back home was tiny...in turn, his bags were full of gold. And why was that? Because he had connections to the black market, of course. And that was where they were headed, currently.

"Probably...but I won't be there. Where will I be?", the boy said softly, in front of him, fixing his eyes ont he steadily bobbing head and mane of the steed. A white brow rose to disappear behind equally white tresses, and Bakura took his arm from the slender waist for a moment to rake through his chin-length, tousled hair with a sigh.

"You will be at a good friend's place then...a good friend of mine, that is. Could be possible he doesn't like you. Or wants to sell you, in the worse case."

"Hm."

Malik sighed quietly himself, and slowly leaned back into the broad chest behind him, wrinkling his nose a bit at slick, muscled flesh connected with his own moist skin, and felt the arm slide around his waist again, just above his hips.

"Thank you."

The self proclaimed King of Thieves watched the golden head roll against his shoulder with the motions of the horse, thinking to himself. It was a risk, taking the boy under his wing, as a slave for his pleasure or not...he had to think about that. True, the lithe body was as delicious to him as it probably had been to the Pharaoh, and to think that he would have then what the brat wanted, it was promising. Then again, he knew full well that supple little mouth hid sharp teeth behind soft lips. And biting hurt, as everyone knew.

A short scene played through Bakura's mind without his allowance, which made him purr. First...

~He sat on his throne-like chair he had back home, forearms resting on the plushed armrests, comfortably leaning back and relaxing. His latest acquired little slave was in front of him on his knees, nude, between his slightly spread legs, and kissed along his inner thighs towards his steadily growing erection, the golden hair brushing against sensitized skin. A moan, and Bakura tangled his hand in those silken strands as warm, soft, full lips reached his balls and caressed them, to which he slid a bit lower to relax completely, grinding the pretty face against his groin shamelessly. That spoiled brat of a Pharaoh was shackled to the wall on the opposite end of the room, watching with a glare as the pretty slave that had denied him pleasured his enemy that nicely. Ooh, lips on his cock now, gliding up the length, parted, the naughty pink little tongue accompanying them...and Malik bit him, hard. The Pharaoh laughed his skinny ass off, and everything went black...~

Bakura shuddered involuntarily, mourning over his abused and from now on dysfunctional genitals even if they hadn't been bitten and mauled between diamond-hard teeth yet...yet. Mental note, give Malik a chewtoy.

The blonde blinked in confusion as he awoke a few hours later again with a yawn and saw Bakura flinch away from the sight of his teeth and tongue. Weird one, that Bakura...

It dusked, and in the distance, the fires of a camp were lit.