Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Mercy ❯ Chapter 1

Disclaimer: They aren't mine - because they would wind up doing things like this.

AN: Behold twistedness, yaoi, and the things you hide in the shadows. It's Nemi-chan's birthday present, and it packs a bit of a wallop.

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His soul is far from pure. It's brilliant and blinding and vibrant - light and light and light and liight like a thousand suns and starlight. But pure?

As pure as ebony shot with scarlet bright as blood and his eyes.

He's not so innocent as his angel face would have him be.

...and they don't know what he does in the shadowy parts of his soul, on those black cold nights when the stars scream and the rain doesn't fall and the world stops spinning and goes mad.

He's spinning now, eyes shut and held tight against his chest, head thrown back so the thick air swirls and dances at his passing, because it's cold and it's empty but so very beautiful behind all of these dank stones.

Maybe he's just being sleepy and stupid and strange, but he squeals when he lets go, and he tumbles onto not cold hard ground but silk sheets and velvet pillows, because even though he wants to hurt his yami will never allow it.

And then his yami lands beside him, and his eyes are wild and dark like old blood, and slender fingers dance up his arms and rub against his collarbone, and he shivers and whimpers inside because hurt and hurt and hurt are never the same, because his yami would never hurt him, but why is he so scared?

It's not like this is new. Not new, not ever, but secret and tucked away and precious and wretched and safe because no one will ever know just how far he's fallen.

Warm heavy sweet darkness settles atop him, soft slippery lips drifting over his forehead, his eyelashes, his cheeks, and there's a giggle and a sob trapped in his throat but they won't bubble past his lips, because he's frightened and thrilled and he knows what's going to happen, he's been waiting for it, he's been wanting it, he's ached and ached and ached for it.

The kiss hurts. It always does, pearly teeth tearing at soft lips, thick wet heat delving inside him and searching and claiming and in the back of his head his yami whispers mineminemine and he cries, just a little, because he knows how much his yami loves the taste of his tears.

He's shuddering now, and those slender hands are coaxing him down, coaxing him back, slipping under his shirt and pushing and caressing and scraping at his skin.

He's not kissing him anymore.

Yugi freezes and holds his breath and tries not to squirm, but his shirt lies in shreds all around him, and his yami's staring at him with covetous eyes and his hands are pinned back over his head and he wants to kiss him again, wants to pet silk and pale gold skin, wants to taste tainted warmth and sweetmeats and sun and sand and lust.

He wants. He wants and wants and wants and wants but he can't move, he won't move, because then his pale flesh will blacken and bruise and his yami will be angry, his yami will hiss and snarl and growl and the blackness will thrash and scream and shriek for its freedom, but it can't get free, it can't get free, it needs to be safe and trapped and locked down deep in here, in his soul, in their soul, lost in the hallways and corridors and emptiness and shadows.

He whimpers, just a little, and then his neck buckle is gone and his yami's teeth are sliding down his skin, soft wet tongue slipping down curves and delicate bone and sinew, and he whimpers again when his yami rubs against him and purrs and growls and bites hard at his soft soft skin.

He arches his back, just a little, and his yami closes his mouth over his own, and he chokes and cries because his yami's hands grope down his body and touch and fumble and hurt and he pushes against him harder, and his yami mewls and moans and yanks his legs around his waist, and he quivers and shakes and forces his tongue into his yami's mouth, and he purrs and bites down and he can taste copper swirling in his mouth like sweet wine and slow tears leak down his cheeks and his yami hisses yesyesyesbreakcryhurt and he does, he does, and he hurts and aches and he doesn't hurt at all.

He scrambles for his skin, velvet and silk and satin and desert sun, and he pulls away leather and buckles and his yami laps at his tongue and curls his hands around his neck and pulls him up and they tumble backwards so he's sprawled across his yami's chest and he shifts his weight and his yami snarls and locks strong legs around his waist and buries his hands in his hair and he can't decide if he's crying from pain or pleasure or both.

They pull apart for want of air, and he stares down into lazy demanding eyes and lips stained scarlet with his lifeblood and he's so so so beautiful and twisted and strange, hair bright and wild and thick gold tangled and teasing at his eyes, and he closes his teeth over his collarbone and his yami's thick ebony lashes flutter shut in pleasure, and his kisses are tainted with blood, but blood and sweat and tears drenching his skin just make him more beautiful in his eyes.

His yami's mouth wanders wet and warm over his ears even as his own wanders down sleek muscle and trembling heat, and strangely delicate hands slip down his back and grope and push and mmmyami he breathes, and his yami rubs slowly slowly slow against him, and his breath catches and he can't stop the mewl, and he knows now that he's doomed.

Tight and hurting and he's on his back again, tears sliding down his face and his yami tearing at his belts, and his belts are lying around him thick like snakes and rough hands slip down sensitive skin and he whimpers when his pants vanish and his yami knows he doesn't wear underwear and warmth surrounds him and he cries out and slams upwards and grinds into slippery leather slick and cool against him and ohgodsyamiplease and his yami chuckles, sweet velvet and forbidden sin and craving and scrapes his fingernails lightly down his skin and he throws his head back and screams.

His yami purrs and drags slowly against him and he closes his eyes and pushes blindly against his yami, and his yami snarl-purrs and he whimpers and his yami whispers soft and velvet and wanting prettyonecryformecrybegyesyesyesyes and he does, he does, he does.

His fingers are digging into dusky skin and leaving marks but his yami doesn't care, his yami likes him like this, naked and hurting and wanting and wanting and wanting so so so much and oh gods it makes him scream and pant and want and his yami kisses him again open and wet and perfect and slippery and copper and salt and he pulls hard and godsgodsgodsyami!

He shrieks and arches and goes limp in his arms, and his yami eases him down and back and presses soft kisses against his eyelids and lips and ears and nose and cheeks and hair and his body is quivering in ecstasy and his bones have melted and he feels so good...

Soft soft soft now, slow deep kisses wet and salty and easing the hurt, and he can't think or move so he just mumbles a soft confused yamiyamiyamiprettyperfectyamiloveyouloveyou, and his yami suckles at his tongue and slides his hands through his hair and rubs against him, sleek and hard and still wanting, and he's drunk on passion and pleasure and still whispering IloveyouIdoIdo.

Slow heat and slow warmth and he stares through drooping lashes at smoldering crimson and his yami purrs minesweetmine and his hands are eager and hungry and he knows what he wants, what he needs, why he's stroking his hair like he's a precious jewel and he knows he'll let him, he'll always let him because he needs him and wants him and wants him and wants him so much.

So he presses his lips to his yami's, and his yami pushes him back and fumbles in the darkness, and then heavy sleek silken warmth is all around him, and he arches his back and parts his lips and his yami kisses him as though he'll break and lifts his legs around his waist and fumbles and pets and it feels good, it feels good, it feels perfect and right and his yami snarls and holds and trembles and pushes and takes and it hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts it feels so so so so good!

Then he's screaming and crying and shrieking in the darkness, and his yami snarls and takes and takes and takes and yes yes yes yes it hurts aches burns breaks please yes please yes please!

And his yami pushes and and arches and kisses him wet and deep and desperate and urgent and he buckles and yields and soft hands wander sweat-slicked skin and salt stained sweetness and they whimper together and scream and cry and pleaseyesmine!

Flawed perfection.

And later in the blackness thick as velvet and deep as forever, he lies quiet and still and content in his arms, tangled and exhausted and broken and used and soft kisses rain over his flushed skin and his yami whispers loveyouloveyoumine.

It's still and silent and he knows that daylight will never acknowledge his sin. He knows that he remains pure and untainted and perfect in his sweet airy cobweb-silk spun lies. The shadows will keep his secret, and the night will shield him from the truth, and his yami will save him and keep him and love him and need him, and he knows how sweet and wrong the joining is, and how they can never stop.

Frantic desperation born of midnight and tainted passion and unholy need.

And no one will ever know.

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AN: Happy birthday, Nemi-chan.