Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Do What You Have To Do ❯ Chapter 3

Disclaimer: *giggles*

AN: *giggles harder* Yaoi! Yaoi! Yaoiiiiiiiiii!

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-Chapter Two-

This is probably the stupidest decision I've ever made.

Scratch that. This is the stupidest decision I've ever made.

But it seems to have sufficiently stunned everyone into silence.

Including my yami, who is sort of... frozen... against me.

I can't really blame him for that. It's not everyday your other half wakes you up, attaches himself bodily to you, and tries to french-kiss you for all that he's worth.

Which I am not doing, incidentally.

Huh. Yami's lips are surprisingly soft... and a little bit moist. Funny, he tastes like Lucky Charms. So he ate the last of them! Jerk...

For being so oddly spiky, my yami's silver tresses certainly are soft. The pale strands of his bangs ghost errantly across my face, but the sensation is oddly familiar, even comfortable. He's very warm. This isn't so bad, really, as desperate ploys go.

Yami shifts a little, raising his hands to settle around my waist. He's playing along! I'm saved! /I love you, Yami!/ I squeal happily into his mind, impulsively cuddling closer. But then again, he'll do anything to cause trouble, won't he? Ah well - whatever works when you're desperate, right?

Is it my imagination, or did he just lean into me? Mmm... he smells good, not Eau de Skunk, but musky and faintly like ashes. I kinda like it.

!!! That is not my imagination, that is my yami's tongue! What is he doing?!?

Ohhhhhhhh. Duh. I'm a baka. What could be more convincing than this? So I obediently open my mouth.

And the world flips upside down.

Long fingertips curl into my hair while Yami's other arm crushes me up against his chest. My grip around his middle tightens reflexively. I can't think. Yami... he's... it's so... so...

He grins smugly into the kiss as he steadily deepens it, and I can't keep from almost squirming in his grip. I hadn't expected - I'd never dreamed - but it's so hot, so wet, and he just tastes so good, and his body is so warm and hard against mine, and he's just so demanding...

I can't suppress the soft moan of pleasure that escapes my throat. He almost growls at the sound, hands tightening and sliding down my body. Oh my kami, he just grabbed my butt! My eyes pop open in surprise, but slide shut just as quickly. He can keep his hands there, I'm in heaven.

Yami pulls his lips away for the barest instant to allow both of us to gasp for the breath we desperately need. Then I'm crushed up against him again, and there's a fierce passion in his grip that makes my bones melt.

Ra... I never expected it to feel this good...

He's just so... deliciously overwhelming... And I can sense the hunger driving him, the way he shifts against me, can taste the longing that taints his lust.

I don't know what the hell's gotten into him, and heaven help me, but I want more.

He moves again, shifting us forward, and I dimly register a sweeping crash somewhere behind me. The tablewear? Grandma's good china? Ah well, it can't be that valuable if Yami smashed it without a second thought, right?

Umph! Um... Oh, I like that... He shoves me backwards onto something hard. The table? Mmmm... not that I mind, or anything. Oh, Ra, his hands...!

I must be dying. Nothing on earth could feel this good. He pins me down roughly beneath his body, and all I can think of is him. His hair tumbles down around us and tickles at my skin, and his weight is warm and heavy, and I can taste the desire in his touch, and his hands are doing such marvelous things it almost makes me cry...

He growls again, low and content, and I try valiantly to suppress a whimper. I splay my hands out on his back, delighting in the ripple of muscle undereath my wandering fingertips, almost giddy because of the mercurial flashes of emotion that keep swirling dizzyingly into my brain. Whee! Lookit the colors!

I'm guessing this is what it feels like to be drunk.

Mentally, he's sniggering with his mischief and I can tell he's having fun when he snakes his fingers up my leg and tucks them into the waistband of my jeans. I giggle against his mouth.

/I like that! Do that again!/ I encourage blissfully, fully aware that I shouldn't be having this much fun. Not with him. Not with anyone. But this is... I dunno what this is, but it's great!

//Rules are made to be broken!// he singsongs cheerily, doing something incredibly indecent with his other hand. This is fun!

Then, suddenly, he freezes.

...huh?

Yami slowly, slowly pulls his mouth from mine, taking a conscientious moment to lick my lips.

I blink dazedly, staring up at him in groggy confusion, trying to draw air into my lungs. He's still on top of me, breath hot and moist against my surely flushed face, beautiful eyes narrowed and smoldering. Now when did my yami go and get so pretty?

And much much more importantly - why the hell did he stop?

"RYOU!!"

Oh. My father.

My father?!

Oh SHIT!

I'm lying on top of the dining room table, pinned under my yami, with whom I was just playing a desperate game of tonsil hockey, in front of my father, supposed fiancée, and future in-laws.

...um, oops?

"RYOU!" father bellows again, and I glance backwards to see him upside-down and turning a bright, belligerent red.

I flush scarlet from the tips of my toes to my hairline.

Yami seems almost amused, and nips playfully at my lips. I can't hold back a hungry whimper at the teasing motion. Shoulda known he'd have his fun tormenting me. His eyes glow with dark satisfaction at my predicament.

"And you! Get the hell off of my son!" father continues, enraged.

Yami slowly looks up and fixes my father with a truly demonic stare. He runs his tongue deliberately over his too-sharp canines in a gesture that's chilling even to me.

"No," he purrs lowly.

I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Y... you..." father splutters indignantly, snapping abruptly out of his seeming paralysis and lunging forward with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

I 'eep' and bury my face in my yami's chest. Which is a good thing, since he seizes me by the waist and expertly flips the both of us off of the table and neatly out of my father's grasp.

I wanna know how he does that. Sometimes my yami's just plain cool. Er... when he's not killing people, that is.

He swings me to my feet, bristling angrily, but he's keeping me plastered against him in a death-grip. I don't want to look...

"Me?" Yami rasps mockingly. "Silly daddy. Trying to get rid of your own child."

...did father whip out the shotgun?

I dare to pull my head out of his chest and peek an eye open.

Father has turned an unbecoming shade of purple. All of our fine china is now in nice piles of shattered porcelain, and a nearby flower arrangement blazes merrily, sending the thick scent of burning flora through the air. (Why am I reminded of Mrs. Miyaki's perfume?) A flying candlestick no doubt set the thing alight. Hazumi's still sitting at the table, big sad eyes and all, but she's goggling at us. Mrs. Miyaki's frozen smile has started to slip, and Mr. Miyaki... does not look healthy.

...why do I get the feeling I'm going to be grounded for this?

"...and who. Might I ask. Are you?" Mrs. Miyaki inquires with glacial politeness, aiming that scary gaze straight at my yami, and therefore straight at me.

I whimper and cuddle against his chest. She's freaky! And Yami... snarls. "Who the fuck are you, bitch?" he snaps, glowering right back at her.

Hazumi squeaks at the profanity and turns rather pale when Yami switches his gaze her way. I can feel his snort against my hair.

"You're the bitch who wants to marry us?" he inquires lowly, dragging a hand across my stomach and tucking his fingers comfortably into my pockets.

I turn bright red. That's fine when we're... uh... um...? But now? ...oh dear.

He chuckles at my embarrassment, the sound rumbling against my back surprisingly pleasantly, considering the fact that it's his usual deranged cackle. Hmm. I forget what an effect that has on people who aren't used to it.

Father is now green, Mr. Miyaki is dead white, and Hazumi looks ready to wilt.

I'm not looking at Mrs. Miyaki.

Mrs. Miyaki is the devil.

Stop laughing at me, Yami.

He's not stopping. Instead, he's squeezing me real tight, like a shiny bauble he's picked up and won't ever let go. "Well?" he inquires, still chuckling, probably flashing his fangs for all the world to see. So subtle, ne? Oh well - as long as my scary yami keeps the scary people away, what do I care?

"The... Miss Miyaki is Ryou's fiancée..." father stutters, still gaping like a fish.

"No she's not!" I blurt out defensively, grabbing onto Yami's arms before he decides to run over and rip out her insides. "We're not marrying her!"

Hazumi, if possible, wilts even more, ignorant of the fact that I'm quite busily occupied with saving her life. Stupid bitch.

What's really frightening is that I can't tell which one of us just thought that.

In the background, the Miyakis are mumbling something that sounds suspiciously like...

"INCEST! MR. BAKURA, JUST HOW HAVE YOU BEEN RAISING YOUR CHILDREN?!"

Ah... crap.

"No! No! I only have one son!" Father protests, windmilling his arms in consternation. "At least, I though I only had one son... I mean! Ryou! He's not gay, I swear!"

I turn red. "DAD! EXCUSE ME, I'M RIGHT HERE!"

Devil woman looks at me and screeches, "AND HANGING ON TO YOUR TWIN LIKE A MAN-WHORE!"

"Hey!" I squeak, outraged, but Yami just throws his head back and laughs.

...someone help me? Please?

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AN: *innocent smile*

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