Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Beautiful Night ❯ Balance ( Chapter 2 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Kurayami Ryuu 
Yay, a longer chapter! WARNING: rape...
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 08.03.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 740 | Status: Completed
Yay, a longer chapter! WARNING: rape...
Anime/Manga: Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 08.03.2005 | Pages: 3 | Words: 2.9K | Visits: 740 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: I. Am. Not. Kazuki. Takahashi. Get it right!
A/N: Wee, I’m back! Time to work more on my most screwed up fic to date! Hmm, to do list... I must answer Baku-chan’s question, and try to actually put some romance in this chappy. The most romantic thing that happened last chappy was Bakura thinking Ryou was a hot girl O.o So, yeah, gotta work on that aspect. (giggle) This is gonna be a fun chapter...
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Chapter Two: Balance
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Bakura zipped up his jacket with fingers shaking just slightly from nervousness. Well, the time had come. There was no putting it off any longer. He opened his bedroom door with the utmost care so that it wouldn’t squeak.
His mission: get out of the house without attracting the attention of his sis - brother.
He made it down the hall all right; whew. But now he was presented with a worse challenge. The stairs. He eyed them suspiciously. They couldn’t have normal stairs, oh no, where only certain steps creaked. These ones changed depending on the weather.
He cautiously put his foot on the first one. And... it creaked.
Another door in the hallway opened. “Where’re you going, Bakura?”
He could feel his left eye twitch. He seemed to be developing chronic eye twitch, now that his girly brother was living with them, and he had only been here a week. “Out,” he said simply, starting down the stairs two at a time.
Ryou frowned disapprovingly at him. “You’re going to hang out with those shady friends of yours, aren’t you?” he demanded, folding his arms across his chest. Bakura turned to look at him; in his baggy brown sweater and blue jeans, he decided that the position only made him look dorkier than usual.
“So what if I am?”
Ryou ‘hmph’ed at him. “I don’t like them. Especially not that Malik creep you keep talking about. You should stop hanging out with them; I think they’ve been a bad influence.”
Bakura couldn’t help it; he had to laugh. “But that’s where you’re wrong, imoto,” he smirked. “I am the one who has been a bad influence on them. See ya later.”
Ryou stomped. If Bakura hadn’t been in such a hurry to get out of there, he probably would have fallen over laughing. “Don’t call me little sister! All right, that’s it. Just for that, I’m coming with you!”
It was a good thing he’d finally managed to reach the bottom of the stairs. Because this time, Bakura really did fall over laughing. “And that would be bad... how?” he managed to choke out, absolutely sure that he wasn’t serious.
His sibling glared. Well, it was a pretty good attempt, anyway. “Because I would embarrass you.”
That made him stop laughing. Hmm... Was this kid smarter than he thought? Bakura shrugged it off. “You have me there. But you wouldn’t.”
“Would too.” Ryou started down the stairs.
Bakura’s eyes widened. “Hey, what’re you - hey! Okay, I’ll give you a candy bar, how about that? Ow!”
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Needless to say, Ryou did indeed come. He even rode on the motorcycle. Of course, he had his arms wrapped around Bakura’s waist so tight that he thought he was going to crash, but he was too pissed off to comment.
It was a good thing they hadn’t been planning to meet up at their hideout, Bakura reflected. If Ryou found out about that, he’d never hear the end of it. Actually, they had been planning to meet up at the most Ryou-friendly house of all, Yami’s.
He screeched to a stop in the game shop’s parking lot and counted bikes. Shit; thanks to arguing with Ryou, he was the last one here.
As they got off, Ryou laughed nervously. “What’s with all the motorcycles, nii-san?” he asked. “You guys aren’t some kind of motorcycle gang, are you?”
He shrugged. “More or less. And don’t call me nii-san.”
Ryou’s mouth fell open. “What?! Does father know?”
He shrugged again. “Most likely, yeah. Has anybody ever told you that you’re clingy?” And, with that, he pushed open the game shop door.
The cheerful little bell that let Mr. Mouto know a customer had come in rang. Bakura frowned at it. This place may be Ryou-friendly, but it made him twitch. Ryou made him twitch too. Hmm... Cheerful things made him twitch.
Mr. Mouto poked his head around a shelf. “Oh, hello Bakura! And... who is this?”
Bakura scowled. “My twin,” he said, in a tone that could peel paint.
Ryou beamed.
Mr. Mouto blinked, then nodded. “Well, okay then. Everybody’s waiting upstairs; have fun!” Bakura just rolled his eyes.
Everybody looked up as he came in. Jou was the first to break the silence. “Okay, either I need glasses, or there’s somethin’ really weird in these cookies. Who the hell is that?”
Bakura heaved a long-suffering sigh. “My twin, Ryou. Sorry, I couldn’t stop him; I tried my best. Ryou, meet Mai, Jou, Kaiba, Yami, Yami’s little brother Yuugi, and...” He smirked. “...Malik.”
Ryou smiled nervously; the way Malik was playing with that knife disturbed him. “Um, hi everyone.”
Malik snickered. “Now there’s a mental image I’ll never loose... He looks like you, except all girly... I never knew you had a twin, Bakura.”
Bakura grabbed three cookies, and seated himself none too gracefully on a chair. Then he grinned nastily at Ryou. “Whoops, looks like you’ll have to take the floor. Shame.” Ryou frowned, but sat down anyway. Finally, Bakura turned his attention to Malik. “Yeah, well, I haven’t seen him in years. Those years have not been kind to him, I might add. See, when my mom and dad split, mom took him back off to Britain with her. Turns out she bit the dust last week, so he got shipped back here again. Now I’m stuck with him...” His voice trailed off.
Reason being, Ryou had stood up again. He looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Don’t be so disrespectful! She was your mother too!” And he ran out of the room.
There was an uncomfortable silence. “That was kind of mean, Bakura,” Yuugi said quietly. Bakura snorted, though he was in fact feeling a bit guilty.
Yami, from where he sat with an arm wrapped around his little brother, nodded sagely. “He’s right, you know. Your mother just died a week ago, and now he has to adjust to a new home, a whole new country. You should go apologize to him.”
Bakura glared at him, and looked to the others for support. Jou and Mai were both frowning at him, Malik was avoiding eye contact by concentrating fully on his knife, and even Kaiba looked disapproving. Bakura winced; he’d forgotten, almost all these people had siblings. And most of them had good relationships with them... Irritably, he stalked off in search of his brother.
Once he was gone, Malik sighed. “I hate fights like this,” he complained.
Kaiba arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me? You collect pieces of people you’ve killed as a hobby, but you hate fights like this?”
Yami glared at him, as if to say that he didn’t know what he was talking about. “Shut up, Kaiba.”
Kaiba narrowed his eyes at him. “Sorry, but I don’t listen to people who publicly cling to their little brothers like that.”
Yuugi went red, but Yami just jeered. “Jealous, Kaiba?”
While Mai and Jou were busy holding Kaiba back, Malik shook his head and retreated to the window so he was out of the way.
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Bakura didn’t have much trouble finding Ryou. He had hidden in the game shop’s bathroom and was sitting on the toilet seat, crying. Bakura couldn’t actually see that he was sitting on the toilet seat, though, because he had locked the door. Mr. Mouto sensed a drama in the near future, and tactfully removed himself to the other side of the game shop.
“Ryou, open the door,” Bakura tried.
“No!”
He winced. “Please?” ‘Argh...’
“No.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair and making even messier than before. “What do you want? What did I say to get you this pissed, anyway?”
He heard what sounded like a choked sob. “Everything’s just so - so horrible! This town is horrible, our school is horrible, your friends are horrible, and you’re horrible! You’re always so mean... Do you pick on everyone this much? I just want to go home...”
Bakura found himself at a loss for words. Did he really hate it here that much? He didn’t think it was that bad... And was he really being that hard on him? Maybe, come to think of it. He was just such a weak, puny little shrimp, and something about him made him want to toughen him up somehow. It was almost like he was worried that, once he got out into the real world, he’d be chewed to pieces... Okay, no, no going there. Emotional goo, bad. Focus. What would he feel like if his dad died? What would he want someone to say to him? ...Actually, he probably wouldn’t care. It wasn’t that he didn’t get along well with his dad or anything; he just didn’t really interact with him that much. The gang was more of a family to him than his dad was. So he said the only thing he could think of, despite the fact that it made he feel like barfing.
“I’m sorry.”
There was silence from the bathroom. Then, so quietly that he almost missed it, Ryou said, “You don’t mean that. You’re just saying that so I’ll stop crying... like a little girl...”
He shook his head. “It’s the best I have to offer, I’m afraid.”
After a moment, the door opened a crack. “You do mean it, then?”
Bakura grinned toothily at him. “Huh. With your eyes all red and puffy, you look even more like a girl than usual.” Then he clasped Ryou’s shoulder awkwardly. “Of course I mean it, stupid.”
Ryou blinked at him as he walked back upstairs. He was... so hard to figure out, wasn’t he?
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Malik winced, fumbling with the keys. It was dark - everybody had left Yami’s place around dusk - and he was having trouble finding his house key. And it didn’t help that his hands were shaking.
He dreaded coming home, dreaded it more than practically anything. But if he didn’t, he knew that things would be much worse for him than if he did...
There he was. Marik, his older brother, sitting on the couch watching TV and sporting his usual crazily-spiked hair. Malik gulped. He seemed very absorbed in the show he was watching; maybe he could sneak upstairs. Maybe tonight...
No such luck. Marik looked over his shoulder at him, utterly unsurprised; he had known he was there the whole time. “Kill anyone today, little brother? No? No big loss, I would say. What’s the fun in killing someone, when you can torture them instead? Oh well; it’s an acquired taste, I suppose... This is a good show; come on, watch it with me.”
Malik’s blood ran cold. His mind screamed for him to run out the door and never come back, but his body was carrying him over to the couch. He compromised by sitting as far away from his brother as possible.
Marik smirked. “Oh, what’s the matter? You don’t have to sit way over there...” He grabbed his arm bruisingly tight, and pulled him so close that he was practically sitting his lap. Malik went completely rigid. Then Marik switch the TV off with the remote, and started trailing kisses down his neck.
Malik gasped. “W-what are you doing?” he asked weakly.
Marik chuckled, causing a sickeningly pleasant feeling to shoot down his spine. “Change of plans, little brother. The show wasn’t that interesting after all, so I thought we’d try something new...” With his spare hand, he felt Malik’s chest greedily through his shirt.
Malik clenched his fingers so tightly that he might have drawn blood. This wasn’t happening; this was... insane! He was his brother! “W-what the hell has gotten into you?!” he demanded, trying his best to get out of his grasp.
Marik shook his head, smirking again. “I thought you’d learned by now that it isn’t as bad when you don’t struggle...” That said, he shoved Malik down onto the couch and kissed him so hard that it hurt.
When he pulled away, Malik looked like he was about to cry. “Please... don’t do this...” he whispered.
Marik snickered, tracing the outline of his jaw with a finger tip. “Tell me, little brother, has anyone you’ve killed ever looked at you like this just before you did it? Did you ever think of stopping?” Then he kissed him again before he had a chance to reply.
This was so much worse than anything he’d ever done to him. Whenever he tried to resist, Marik would simply hit him until he gave in. It was so sickening, and it was even worse because he was enjoying it despite being scared. Damn his treacherous body... He felt a frightened little thrill of anticipation even as he was trying his hardest to stop Marik from ripping his shirt off.
Once he got his shirt off, Marik tore a strip from it and bound Malik’s hand together to keep them out of his way.
After a few minutes, Marik pulled away and looked at him with eyes glazed over with lust. Malik tried to meet his gaze with defiance, but he just couldn’t. “You are... quite lovely,” he commented, just before he ripped his brother’s pants off.
Malik gave up the battle now, and let the tears stream down the sides of him face. It was no use resisting; he would only get his way in the end... For a few more minutes Marik only teased him, just to hear him moan, but finally he couldn’t take it any more. His erection was straining against his pants painfully, so he pulled them off, along with his shirt. Then he straddled Malik’s hips, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.
“Just remember - if you scream, no one will care.” Then he thrust cruelly inside him.
Malik screamed anyway. It felt like he was being ripped in two. He twisted beneath him, trying to push him off with his bound hands, but Marik just punched him again.
He pounded into him again and again, until Malik felt like he would never be able to walk again. Finally Marik released deep inside of him, and collapsed on top of him, panting.
For a minute Marik just lay there, enjoying the pained little whimpering noises Malik was making. But once he got his breath back he pulled out; along with him came blood. He smirked.
Malik looked so beautiful and broken, he reflected, all covered in sweat and bruises and blood. “Well, that was... satisfying,” he commented, playing with a lock of the other’s hair. “I’ll see you later, little brother.” Malik watched him, though he didn’t really see, as he walked out the door.
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A/N: O.O Wow... (huggles Malik) Poor Malik-chan! (sniffles) Did you know that ‘bruisingly’ isn’t actually a word? At least not according to Microsoft Word. I was shocked. Anyway... This was a freakish chapter, huh? It started out all funny, then it got bad... (cries) Poor Ma-a-alik-chan!!! He hem... Okay, I think I’m better now. Don’t worry, next chapter Yami will make Malik feel all better... Hey, not like that; get your minds out of the gutter! Well, at least not right away... (cackles) And in other news, now that I’ve reached chapter two, I think I’ve finally figured out where I’m going with this fic! (cheers) Review onegai?
A/N: Wee, I’m back! Time to work more on my most screwed up fic to date! Hmm, to do list... I must answer Baku-chan’s question, and try to actually put some romance in this chappy. The most romantic thing that happened last chappy was Bakura thinking Ryou was a hot girl O.o So, yeah, gotta work on that aspect. (giggle) This is gonna be a fun chapter...
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Chapter Two: Balance
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Bakura zipped up his jacket with fingers shaking just slightly from nervousness. Well, the time had come. There was no putting it off any longer. He opened his bedroom door with the utmost care so that it wouldn’t squeak.
His mission: get out of the house without attracting the attention of his sis - brother.
He made it down the hall all right; whew. But now he was presented with a worse challenge. The stairs. He eyed them suspiciously. They couldn’t have normal stairs, oh no, where only certain steps creaked. These ones changed depending on the weather.
He cautiously put his foot on the first one. And... it creaked.
Another door in the hallway opened. “Where’re you going, Bakura?”
He could feel his left eye twitch. He seemed to be developing chronic eye twitch, now that his girly brother was living with them, and he had only been here a week. “Out,” he said simply, starting down the stairs two at a time.
Ryou frowned disapprovingly at him. “You’re going to hang out with those shady friends of yours, aren’t you?” he demanded, folding his arms across his chest. Bakura turned to look at him; in his baggy brown sweater and blue jeans, he decided that the position only made him look dorkier than usual.
“So what if I am?”
Ryou ‘hmph’ed at him. “I don’t like them. Especially not that Malik creep you keep talking about. You should stop hanging out with them; I think they’ve been a bad influence.”
Bakura couldn’t help it; he had to laugh. “But that’s where you’re wrong, imoto,” he smirked. “I am the one who has been a bad influence on them. See ya later.”
Ryou stomped. If Bakura hadn’t been in such a hurry to get out of there, he probably would have fallen over laughing. “Don’t call me little sister! All right, that’s it. Just for that, I’m coming with you!”
It was a good thing he’d finally managed to reach the bottom of the stairs. Because this time, Bakura really did fall over laughing. “And that would be bad... how?” he managed to choke out, absolutely sure that he wasn’t serious.
His sibling glared. Well, it was a pretty good attempt, anyway. “Because I would embarrass you.”
That made him stop laughing. Hmm... Was this kid smarter than he thought? Bakura shrugged it off. “You have me there. But you wouldn’t.”
“Would too.” Ryou started down the stairs.
Bakura’s eyes widened. “Hey, what’re you - hey! Okay, I’ll give you a candy bar, how about that? Ow!”
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Needless to say, Ryou did indeed come. He even rode on the motorcycle. Of course, he had his arms wrapped around Bakura’s waist so tight that he thought he was going to crash, but he was too pissed off to comment.
It was a good thing they hadn’t been planning to meet up at their hideout, Bakura reflected. If Ryou found out about that, he’d never hear the end of it. Actually, they had been planning to meet up at the most Ryou-friendly house of all, Yami’s.
He screeched to a stop in the game shop’s parking lot and counted bikes. Shit; thanks to arguing with Ryou, he was the last one here.
As they got off, Ryou laughed nervously. “What’s with all the motorcycles, nii-san?” he asked. “You guys aren’t some kind of motorcycle gang, are you?”
He shrugged. “More or less. And don’t call me nii-san.”
Ryou’s mouth fell open. “What?! Does father know?”
He shrugged again. “Most likely, yeah. Has anybody ever told you that you’re clingy?” And, with that, he pushed open the game shop door.
The cheerful little bell that let Mr. Mouto know a customer had come in rang. Bakura frowned at it. This place may be Ryou-friendly, but it made him twitch. Ryou made him twitch too. Hmm... Cheerful things made him twitch.
Mr. Mouto poked his head around a shelf. “Oh, hello Bakura! And... who is this?”
Bakura scowled. “My twin,” he said, in a tone that could peel paint.
Ryou beamed.
Mr. Mouto blinked, then nodded. “Well, okay then. Everybody’s waiting upstairs; have fun!” Bakura just rolled his eyes.
Everybody looked up as he came in. Jou was the first to break the silence. “Okay, either I need glasses, or there’s somethin’ really weird in these cookies. Who the hell is that?”
Bakura heaved a long-suffering sigh. “My twin, Ryou. Sorry, I couldn’t stop him; I tried my best. Ryou, meet Mai, Jou, Kaiba, Yami, Yami’s little brother Yuugi, and...” He smirked. “...Malik.”
Ryou smiled nervously; the way Malik was playing with that knife disturbed him. “Um, hi everyone.”
Malik snickered. “Now there’s a mental image I’ll never loose... He looks like you, except all girly... I never knew you had a twin, Bakura.”
Bakura grabbed three cookies, and seated himself none too gracefully on a chair. Then he grinned nastily at Ryou. “Whoops, looks like you’ll have to take the floor. Shame.” Ryou frowned, but sat down anyway. Finally, Bakura turned his attention to Malik. “Yeah, well, I haven’t seen him in years. Those years have not been kind to him, I might add. See, when my mom and dad split, mom took him back off to Britain with her. Turns out she bit the dust last week, so he got shipped back here again. Now I’m stuck with him...” His voice trailed off.
Reason being, Ryou had stood up again. He looked like he was on the verge of tears. “Don’t be so disrespectful! She was your mother too!” And he ran out of the room.
There was an uncomfortable silence. “That was kind of mean, Bakura,” Yuugi said quietly. Bakura snorted, though he was in fact feeling a bit guilty.
Yami, from where he sat with an arm wrapped around his little brother, nodded sagely. “He’s right, you know. Your mother just died a week ago, and now he has to adjust to a new home, a whole new country. You should go apologize to him.”
Bakura glared at him, and looked to the others for support. Jou and Mai were both frowning at him, Malik was avoiding eye contact by concentrating fully on his knife, and even Kaiba looked disapproving. Bakura winced; he’d forgotten, almost all these people had siblings. And most of them had good relationships with them... Irritably, he stalked off in search of his brother.
Once he was gone, Malik sighed. “I hate fights like this,” he complained.
Kaiba arched an eyebrow. “Excuse me? You collect pieces of people you’ve killed as a hobby, but you hate fights like this?”
Yami glared at him, as if to say that he didn’t know what he was talking about. “Shut up, Kaiba.”
Kaiba narrowed his eyes at him. “Sorry, but I don’t listen to people who publicly cling to their little brothers like that.”
Yuugi went red, but Yami just jeered. “Jealous, Kaiba?”
While Mai and Jou were busy holding Kaiba back, Malik shook his head and retreated to the window so he was out of the way.
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Bakura didn’t have much trouble finding Ryou. He had hidden in the game shop’s bathroom and was sitting on the toilet seat, crying. Bakura couldn’t actually see that he was sitting on the toilet seat, though, because he had locked the door. Mr. Mouto sensed a drama in the near future, and tactfully removed himself to the other side of the game shop.
“Ryou, open the door,” Bakura tried.
“No!”
He winced. “Please?” ‘Argh...’
“No.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair and making even messier than before. “What do you want? What did I say to get you this pissed, anyway?”
He heard what sounded like a choked sob. “Everything’s just so - so horrible! This town is horrible, our school is horrible, your friends are horrible, and you’re horrible! You’re always so mean... Do you pick on everyone this much? I just want to go home...”
Bakura found himself at a loss for words. Did he really hate it here that much? He didn’t think it was that bad... And was he really being that hard on him? Maybe, come to think of it. He was just such a weak, puny little shrimp, and something about him made him want to toughen him up somehow. It was almost like he was worried that, once he got out into the real world, he’d be chewed to pieces... Okay, no, no going there. Emotional goo, bad. Focus. What would he feel like if his dad died? What would he want someone to say to him? ...Actually, he probably wouldn’t care. It wasn’t that he didn’t get along well with his dad or anything; he just didn’t really interact with him that much. The gang was more of a family to him than his dad was. So he said the only thing he could think of, despite the fact that it made he feel like barfing.
“I’m sorry.”
There was silence from the bathroom. Then, so quietly that he almost missed it, Ryou said, “You don’t mean that. You’re just saying that so I’ll stop crying... like a little girl...”
He shook his head. “It’s the best I have to offer, I’m afraid.”
After a moment, the door opened a crack. “You do mean it, then?”
Bakura grinned toothily at him. “Huh. With your eyes all red and puffy, you look even more like a girl than usual.” Then he clasped Ryou’s shoulder awkwardly. “Of course I mean it, stupid.”
Ryou blinked at him as he walked back upstairs. He was... so hard to figure out, wasn’t he?
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Malik winced, fumbling with the keys. It was dark - everybody had left Yami’s place around dusk - and he was having trouble finding his house key. And it didn’t help that his hands were shaking.
He dreaded coming home, dreaded it more than practically anything. But if he didn’t, he knew that things would be much worse for him than if he did...
There he was. Marik, his older brother, sitting on the couch watching TV and sporting his usual crazily-spiked hair. Malik gulped. He seemed very absorbed in the show he was watching; maybe he could sneak upstairs. Maybe tonight...
No such luck. Marik looked over his shoulder at him, utterly unsurprised; he had known he was there the whole time. “Kill anyone today, little brother? No? No big loss, I would say. What’s the fun in killing someone, when you can torture them instead? Oh well; it’s an acquired taste, I suppose... This is a good show; come on, watch it with me.”
Malik’s blood ran cold. His mind screamed for him to run out the door and never come back, but his body was carrying him over to the couch. He compromised by sitting as far away from his brother as possible.
Marik smirked. “Oh, what’s the matter? You don’t have to sit way over there...” He grabbed his arm bruisingly tight, and pulled him so close that he was practically sitting his lap. Malik went completely rigid. Then Marik switch the TV off with the remote, and started trailing kisses down his neck.
Malik gasped. “W-what are you doing?” he asked weakly.
Marik chuckled, causing a sickeningly pleasant feeling to shoot down his spine. “Change of plans, little brother. The show wasn’t that interesting after all, so I thought we’d try something new...” With his spare hand, he felt Malik’s chest greedily through his shirt.
Malik clenched his fingers so tightly that he might have drawn blood. This wasn’t happening; this was... insane! He was his brother! “W-what the hell has gotten into you?!” he demanded, trying his best to get out of his grasp.
Marik shook his head, smirking again. “I thought you’d learned by now that it isn’t as bad when you don’t struggle...” That said, he shoved Malik down onto the couch and kissed him so hard that it hurt.
When he pulled away, Malik looked like he was about to cry. “Please... don’t do this...” he whispered.
Marik snickered, tracing the outline of his jaw with a finger tip. “Tell me, little brother, has anyone you’ve killed ever looked at you like this just before you did it? Did you ever think of stopping?” Then he kissed him again before he had a chance to reply.
This was so much worse than anything he’d ever done to him. Whenever he tried to resist, Marik would simply hit him until he gave in. It was so sickening, and it was even worse because he was enjoying it despite being scared. Damn his treacherous body... He felt a frightened little thrill of anticipation even as he was trying his hardest to stop Marik from ripping his shirt off.
Once he got his shirt off, Marik tore a strip from it and bound Malik’s hand together to keep them out of his way.
After a few minutes, Marik pulled away and looked at him with eyes glazed over with lust. Malik tried to meet his gaze with defiance, but he just couldn’t. “You are... quite lovely,” he commented, just before he ripped his brother’s pants off.
Malik gave up the battle now, and let the tears stream down the sides of him face. It was no use resisting; he would only get his way in the end... For a few more minutes Marik only teased him, just to hear him moan, but finally he couldn’t take it any more. His erection was straining against his pants painfully, so he pulled them off, along with his shirt. Then he straddled Malik’s hips, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear.
“Just remember - if you scream, no one will care.” Then he thrust cruelly inside him.
Malik screamed anyway. It felt like he was being ripped in two. He twisted beneath him, trying to push him off with his bound hands, but Marik just punched him again.
He pounded into him again and again, until Malik felt like he would never be able to walk again. Finally Marik released deep inside of him, and collapsed on top of him, panting.
For a minute Marik just lay there, enjoying the pained little whimpering noises Malik was making. But once he got his breath back he pulled out; along with him came blood. He smirked.
Malik looked so beautiful and broken, he reflected, all covered in sweat and bruises and blood. “Well, that was... satisfying,” he commented, playing with a lock of the other’s hair. “I’ll see you later, little brother.” Malik watched him, though he didn’t really see, as he walked out the door.
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A/N: O.O Wow... (huggles Malik) Poor Malik-chan! (sniffles) Did you know that ‘bruisingly’ isn’t actually a word? At least not according to Microsoft Word. I was shocked. Anyway... This was a freakish chapter, huh? It started out all funny, then it got bad... (cries) Poor Ma-a-alik-chan!!! He hem... Okay, I think I’m better now. Don’t worry, next chapter Yami will make Malik feel all better... Hey, not like that; get your minds out of the gutter! Well, at least not right away... (cackles) And in other news, now that I’ve reached chapter two, I think I’ve finally figured out where I’m going with this fic! (cheers) Review onegai?