Yu-Gi-Oh! Fan Fiction ❯ Touch ❯ Touch ( Chapter 1 )

Title: Touch

Pairing: Bakura x Ryou

Rating: X

Warnings: In character Bakura...and inner musings. FEAR THEM! And of course M/M Disclaimer: Me no own, you no sue...

Beta: Himitsu Dorobou (the great and powerful—I don't own the Wizard of Oz! *winks*)

Time for something different from me...I figured I would be creative for all of the lovely BxR fans out there. I hope you all enjoy, and please read the notes at the end before reviewing.

~*~

Touch. Whether you want to believe it or not, whether your mind wants it or not...your body craves it, needs it...and will have it. Touch.

It had been exactly three months, two days, five hours, and thirty-five minutes since he had received his own body…and he felt horrid. He ached for something, but had no clue what could...well...he had a pretty good idea of what it could be. What his body alone ached for was...physical contact, a physical connection, something he hadn't experienced in over three thousand years. He knew full well that he was purposefully denying his body; no matter how much his body sought a physical connection with someone, anyone, he would not allow such a thing. In order to part take in physical connection he would have to let his walls down, throw his mask away, and he would be vulnerable and weak. The second the connection was made; he knew he would lose himself in it and he would need to explore it, but his pride would not allow this. He had a reputation to uphold, he was evil, he was darkness, he was Yami no Bakura.

Bakura thought it over repeatedly until he came to this conclusion: his pride was far more important then a foolish physical craving. To show his weaknesses would mean his downfall because even if it were to occur in private, the chosen person could destroy him, could tell everyone and anyone. Bakura would be mocked and ridiculed. Unacceptable!

He considered his craving a weakness…it was a weakness and he would not give into the temptations, he would not surrender to it, and he would not let his weakness show because it would fade...fade away into the darkness. He knew he wouldn't give in…Bakura himself would not initiate that physical connection, but what if someone else did? Would he lose himself? Would it consume him? Would his walls fall and his weakness show? He didn't know. He did know, however, that the only person truly close enough to initiate any type of physical contact was the one with whom he shared...correction...the one who allowed him the privilege to stay in his home and in his life; the boy whose given name he had taken as his own, for he could no longer recall his own true name. Ryou Bakura, the boy who had once been his host and landlord.

Bakura respected his landlord but kept mostly to himself. The two coexisted in the tiny apartment, interacting with each other on few occasions throughout the day. In the beginning, back when he was still the spirit of the Ring, Bakura respected his landlord because Ryou had released him from his horrible prison, but that respect faded when his acts of appreciation were frowned upon and cast aside as acts of evil. The coexistence between the two faded when the boy betrayed him not once but twice, and soon Bakura would take control over his host's body with utter disregard for his landlord's well being. However, his host's spirit and will slowly faded away, and Ryou submitted to him. The boy no longer fought; if anything he helped Bakura in his efforts.

Bakura knew why this change had occurred; his host had betrayed him for friends who had soon turned their backs on him. Bakura watched his light change but had no part in the situation. He did not push or force the boy, nor did Bakura try to talk him out of anything...he merely watched. Though that wasn't quite true...he had once—and only once—offered his landlord comfort, but merely by his presence, not with kind words. He was allowing the boy to know that even though his friends had left him, he was still there. Letting the boy know that Bakura was still with him; that Bakura had no intention of leaving and that he, Ryou, was still very important to him. As it was, the boy was his only connection to this world—to life itself.

As they neared the end of their existence as host and spirit, their relationship changed for the better and…and he actually protected and saved his landlord's body and soul instead of allowing Ryou to die and taking the body as his own. Though this wasn't quite true—Bakura would have been sealed back into the Ring once Ryou died—Ryou didn't know this and he never, ever would because that was the lie off of which their current relationship was built. Ryou believed Bakura protected him selflessly, not selfishly. Ryou believed he had given up something, but the truth was that he had given up nothing.

When Bakura finally received his own body he had lost most of his powers—not all of them were lost, but all the fun ones had gone. Not only that, Bakura was homeless and lost in a world that he just didn't understand. He had no one but Ryou, the only home in he had known in this world was the home he shared with Ryou, and it was to this home that Bakura returned. Ryou could have slammed the door in his face, he could have...he could have...but he didn't. He could have.

Pause.

It seemed that he had moved from his original train of thought, and as he became aware of his surroundings in the real world, the black haze of his inner musings and thoughts vanished from sight. Bakura sat alone on the couch, and as he stared at the black television screen he could hear movement in the next room. But Bakura wasn't concerned in the least by this slight disturbance; he knew exactly who was in the next room.

The cause of said movement left that room and entered the one where Bakura was sitting on the couch. Crimson eyes watched as his landlord approached and spoke softly, “Are you feeling better today?”

Yesterday...yesterday the ache, the craving, had gotten to the point of physical and mental pain. Pain to an unbearable extent, and Bakura had been forced to lie down and rest. He had locked himself away in his room and remained there until a few hours before he had come to sit on the couch.

“Yes. I'm fine.” His voice was raspy, harsh, and emotionless, it was neither cruel nor gentle. Of course he was lying, but that wasn't the point. The last thing he needed was to worry his host and risk initiating a physical connection.

“Are you hungry? You haven't eaten anything since yesterday morning.” Ryou's soft voice pushed against his ears again, trying to pull him into a conversation of sorts. He knew Ryou didn't believe his assertion of well-being, and he also knew the boy testing him, trying to notice anything out of place. If he turned down the offer, Ryou would know he had been lying.

“Yes, actually I am.” His voice had returned to normal took its usual tone. Bakura had lied once again, he wasn't the slightest bit hungry but would force himself to eat and therefore keep his landlord from worrying.

Bakura pushed himself from a seated position to his full height, a few inches taller than his landlord. He and his landlord didn't actually look as similar as everyone believed; the only traits they truly shared were skin tone, hair colour, and their hairstyle. Bakura's hair was longer, more jagged, and his eyes were crimson while Ryou's were green, his face was sharp and angled while Ryou's was rounded and gentle. Bakura was taller, stronger, and had a broader build.

He was happy at the way his body turned out; it may not look the way he wished but he wasn't about to complain, as it was better than nothing at all. He knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth, and had accepted it.

Silently Bakura followed his landlord to the kitchen, tiny and modest as it was, and did little to help Ryou as he prepared the meal, though every once in a while he would peek over Ryou's shoulder to see what the boy was doing. Every now and again he would retrieve an item his host requested.

Ryou wasn't paying any attention to his surroundings; Bakura could see that clearly as Ryou reached for the knife that rested next to the place where Bakura was resting his hand. Bakura almost didn't see it happen—correction: he wanted it to happen but forced himself to retract his hand. Seconds later Ryou's fingers connected to the area where Bakura's hand had been only moments before, and after finding said knife Ryou returned to his work. Bakura was left standing behind him in shock.

What if he hadn't have moved his hand? What would he be doing now if he hadn't shifted? Would a simple touch of hands break him? Don't think about it. Don't think about it. You don't need it. It's just a silly craving. A silly, pathetic craving.

~*~

It was now exactly six months, three weeks, four days, ten hours, and ten minutes since he had received his own body. The ache...the craving, it was still there. It hadn't gone away as he had hoped. He had only succeeded in torturing himself. Bakura didn't want to think about it, to consider making a physical connection with anyone, but the temptation to do just that was becoming stronger than his pride.

Bakura also found himself wishing he had someone in his life he could trust completely, someone he could trust with the ache that was slowly becoming his desire. Someone he could trust not to destroy him, and not to take advantage of his current, greatest weakness. Yet he still stood by the fact that revealing his weakness to anyone would be a blow to his pride and ego, and the thought of anyone knowing his secret made him shudder in fear and disgust. Everything he worked so hard to attain, his whole fearsome reputation would be replaced with mockery and he would be destroyed. Right now his reputation and pride were all that remained to inspired fear in those around him. He couldn't risk losing them.

But the temptation...the need...it was driving him mad. A bold statement, considering the fact that he was already insane. He now spent most of his days lying in bed and thinking, thinking of all the close calls he had experienced with his landlord. His landlord was without a doubt the closest person to Bakura—Ryou knew both sides of his being, the Bakura that existed inside their apartment and the Bakura that existed outside their apartment. Outside of the place he called home Bakura's reputation held true, but inside...inside this place he was human...he was man who kept to himself, who could show respect and contentment. He wasn't vile, evil, or even scary, and he never inflicted pain or abuse upon his landlord. Bakura could offer his aid when he felt like it; he was considerate and he never spoke ill words about or to his landlord. Just human. What would being hostile and vicious to his landlord accomplish anyway? The boy had shown him kindness and respect in his time of need, so the least he could do was to be civil.

Many, and he did mean many, people truly believed that the way he acted outside of the apartment was the same way he acted behind the closed doors of his home. Much to his surprise, Ryou didn't try to correct them—he didn't deny their harsh comments. He didn't support them either, but he didn't deny them. That alone instilled yet another thread of trust between them.

A heavy sigh left his lips; Bakura knew his landlord was worrying about him. Of course the boy had no idea what was wrong with Bakura, but he still worried. His landlord often asked him what was wrong but he was always given the same answer, 'I'm fine'. But you're not fine. He could tell his host didn't believe him, but at least Ryou didn't push the subject. Ryou thought he was depressed...his landlord never vocalized this thought but it was there. He had seen it rush through the boy's mind a few times.

Seeing into the other's thoughts, peeking into the other's minds, and talking mentally were a few abilities he possessed but rarely used. He often peeked into Ryou's pool of thoughts just to see what his landlord was thinking when he spoke to him a few times...but it wasn't something they used on a daily basis.

Bakura forced himself from the confines of his bed and fell into his daily routine, partaking in the joy of a hot shower and then venturing into the main part of the apartment, only to find his landlord in the kitchen as he prepared another meal. His landlord had his back to Bakura, busied with whatever it was he was doing.
Bakura found himself folding his arms across his chest and studying his landlord's profile. The boy knew he was standing there but seemed uninterested, and he guessed it was because his landlord was used to his presence and the fact that he would often move around his landlord at various times of the day, often pausing, saying nothing, and then exiting the room. Bakura would look over the boy's shoulder, see what he was doing, and then he would leave. Like always.

Bakura had just moved to look over the boy's shoulder at his usual close distance, though with enough space to keep from touching the other boy, when the boy stepped back and briefly pressed their bodies together. In that moment a physical connection was made, even though it was only for a brief second. Time seemed to stop in that moment—the feelings, the temptations, the sensations, they all overwhelmed him and he was lost in the ocean of passions and feelings. He needed more. He needed to feel it again. He didn't know how to describe it...he couldn't put it into words...but he needed more.

His hand found its way to Ryou's arm and reestablished the physical connection between them; the touch was gentle, soft, and without pressure, and Ryou didn't pull away. His hand and fingers drifted downward over clothed skin, thinking that perhaps he had overestimated the power of his cravings, thinking that it was pathetic, until his fingers skimmed over the bare flesh of Ryou's wrist. In that moment, when skin touched skin, Bakura lost himself. He felt dizzy, his heart was racing, and he could feel the turbulent blood running through his veins. Bakura's breathing became heavy, labored, and forced; he couldn't think clearly and was quickly lost in a haze of pleasure. He had never before experienced something like this, and he wanted to feel that pleasure again. Bakura didn't even realize that he was unbuttoning his landlord's shirt until he watched it fall to the floor; moments later his hands were exploring every inch of skin he could reach. The feeling of his landlord's skin under his hands, under his fingers, drove him to new heights of pleasure. It happened just as he'd known it would, and he wanted to explore this body even more.

“B...Bakura...what are you—?” Ryou tensed for a moment but soon relaxed and leaned back into Bakura's body, releasing a throaty moan as his words were cut off by the work of Bakura's fingers. Bakura was surprised that his landlord hadn't pulled away, that he was leaning into him and moaning...what an amazing sound it was....

His mouth inched closer to Ryou's ear, Bakura's hot breath teased it as he whispered, “Touch me.” He let his tongue touch his landlord's ear and his fingers brush over hardened nipples; he received a moan for his efforts and again to his own surprise, Ryou turned in his arms and kissed him. He kissed you.

No. He couldn't, he wouldn't do this. It was only a craving; he had to fight it. As good as this felt, as much as he needed it...the price of this pleasure, of this need, was just too high of a price. He was thinking about taking his landlord's innocence, but he couldn't do that to the one person in this world who trusted him, and who he trusted in return.

Not like this...never like this.

I need you...but I can't have you...yet.

~*~

The End. Or is it? Fuck no. This is a two-part fanfic...and before anyone freaks out about the lack of lemon...well it's because it would be a complete contradiction of everything Bakura had been saying in regards to his host.

I would also like to share with you all the origins of this fic... Little Atemu's fic 'Name' gave me the plot bunny, and while listening to Nine Inch Nails and The Fray...this came to life. Pretty scary, huh?
God, I need a life.
Anyways, review and let me know what you think. Please?