Fragments
Fandom: Yugioh
Characters: Yami Bakura/Malik Ishtar
Prompt: #71, Broken
Word Count: 2, 002
Rating: M
Chapters: 2/100
Summary: Bakura arched an eyebrow. “It looked strong enough to me.”
Warning(s): Mild Yaoi and really bad words.
Author's Notes: Watch out for scene change, as most of this is a flashback, umm, It is pretty straight forward story and reading, hoping, so enjoy.
*********************************************
“This is all your fault!” Malik hissed to the taller male beside him.
“How was I meant to know?” Bakura arched an eyebrow. “It looked strong enough to me.” He shrugged not really caring or saw what the big deal was.
“Does it look strong too you?!” Malik felt his right eye twitch and slapped a hand over it, making Bakura grin knowing just what he was doing and felt it best to leave out the teasing comments, for now. “If she notices what we have done she’s going to kill me Jack the Ripper style and then I’m breaking up with you.” Malik walked off deeper into the store, with a confused shop owner watching.
“Come now Malik. Everything will be alright as long as I get the more useful parts of your body when your sister is through with you!” What could Bakura say? He loved seeing Malik all worked up and flustered and loved it even more watching him walk away. Bakura started to chuckle when Malik spat out a bunch of incoherent rants and on the occasion Bakura’s name was surprisingly heard quite clearly through out the shop. “Malik!” Bakura walked after him.
A few words, just a few damn word summed Bakura right up, sexual deviate and a pervert and even after two years of being together… which was how Malik was in this mess of trouble and was always in trouble because of other people and Malik didn’t like pointing the finger at anyone… well there were two people who he seemed to be in the most trouble with.
Number one: His sister Isis and her unhealthy obsession, was one of his reasons of being here was to save his own hide and possibly Bakura’s as well.
Number two: Bakura and not keeping his hands to himself and his unhealthy obsession with Malik’s body, was his second reason for being here. Well, once Isis finds out just what happened, Bakura was a dead man and Malik would be marked as a single hot guy up for grabs… that would make quite a few people’s day a happy one.
Malik’s trouble all started when he moved in with his sister and started dating Bakura. Isis didn’t think much of Bakura to start with but was warming up to him fast, well as fast a sloth. Let’s also add to the unfair beatings and the abuse thrown his way nearly every day.
************************************************************
Whack! Was the resounding hit to Malik’s leg that made him jump and call out in fight and in slight pain, “How many times have I told you to keep your feet off my coffee table?!” His older sister scolded him with a rolled up news-paper in hand, like he was same damn puppy that did something wrong.
“I have socks on.” Malik rubbed his abused leg as his sister pulled out a rag and wiped away any marks that might have been left behind on the highly polished old English oak wood finish.
She glared at him that made Malik recoil somewhat into the armchair. “My father made this with his own two hands for my mother, who gave this table to me when I moved out!” She growled. Malik wondered if the book he had been reading could pose as a possible shield or an escape of some sought from his rather pissed off sister.
“We have the same parents,” Malik mumbled. Isis was so obsessed with her coffee table that Malik though it was unhealthy, no one he knew obsessed over a bit of furniture like she did. Isis kept a range of special rags for cleaning and a cupboard full of cleaning goods from waxes to polish that out did her make-up and shoe collection.
“I have had this table since I moved out; it has survived floods, wild parties, four building fires and almost got sold off in the last year’s antique sale, no thanks to you.” She stood up hands on hips eyeing for anymore marks. “I am making sure it’s going to survive, you!”
“Oh I so feel the love.” Malik rolled his eyes saying, “My dear sister you need a hobby or a cat. I personally lean towards you getting a hobby.”
“Malik I catch your feet on my table again I’ll cut them off and post them to you or gift wrap them. I personally lean towards posting them.” With that she left the living room, Malik watched her as she vanished to another part of the house.
Placing his feet up onto the table and got comfy again in the armchair and reopened his book and settled in for a few more chapters.
*******************************************************
“What do you think Malik?” Isis asked one afternoon, sitting back and admiring the new coat of polish on the table.
Malik sat on the couch hunched forward, bottom lip caught between pearly white teeth, a frown of concentration and controller in hand and fingers working over time. Bakura casually sat back in the couch a slight frown on his face and fingers moving every now and then, both males had their eyes and attentions glued onto the t.v screen… it was a matter of life and death. “Almost! Just a bit!” Malik mumbled, he was going to win.
“Malik!” Suddenly the screen was black and game console was powerless, both heads of sandy blond and white hair snapped to their right to see Isis had pulled out the plug for the vacuum cleaner. “I asked you, what do you think?” She pointed to the coffee table.
“You have no idea what you just did?!” Malik said with a shake of his head disbelieving what she had just done.
Bakura’s smirk came all on its own as realization hit him that Malik had lost the game, to him. Oh happy day!
“My table?” Isis said more sternly this time.
“It’s the same as it was last month and the month before that and the month before that one.”
“I’m using a new polish!” She growled.
“Oh yeah.” Malik lent forward a little pissed from losing the game, but maybe Bakura wouldn’t have noticed and they could do a rematch. “I can see my reflection. Oh no!” Malik gasped in shock while leaning over the table his eyes wide. Isis jumped as well and lent over to try and see what Malik was looking at. “My kohl lines are running, quick fetch my make-up kit!”
Whack! She hit him upside the head, “they’re scar-tattoos you idiot! They don’t run.” She huffed walking out of the room mumbling under her breath about annoying little brothers, leaving Malik to rub at his head.
Bakura moved forward and getting his hand in under Malik’s shirt and running it down his stomach, feeling Malik shudder at his touch… or was it because Bakura had such cold hands?
“You’re mine now, kitten.” Bakura purred in his ear and then taking a nibble, tearing a small moan from Malik’s lips… maybe losing to Bakura wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
*********************************************************
Malik looked over the rows of coffee tables in the shop and he knew there wasn’t going to be another one like it, and his sister was so going to killing him for sure. An image of Isis wearing a white hockey mask and wielding a revving chainsaw in her hands while screaming, ‘MALIK ISHTAR! I’M GOING TO CUT YOU INTO A TABLE!’
Malik jumped in fright and having the image of his now psycho sister flood away as Bakura said his name and wrapped his arms about his waist and rested his chin on top of Malik’s head. “I don’t know what I’m going to tell her if it can’t be...”
“I’m sure the old guy can do something with it.” Bakura said with a heavy sigh. “Hopefully nothing to expensive, ‘cause I’m looking forward to our dinner date.”
Malik turned about with narrowed lavender eyes that burned with irritation, instead of affection, “what makes you think I’m paying for this?” Malik hissed at him. “I’m not the one responsible for what happened.”
“You’re the one that said it wouldn’t rain this morning.” Bakura shot back and wished he hadn’t said anything at all as Malik took a rather threatening step forward.
Growling out through clutched teeth asking, “Do I look like a damn meteorologist?”
Bakura shook his head no.
**************************************************************
That morning Malik and Bakura burst in through the front doors of Malik’s house soaking wet from the sudden storm that ruined their day out together. “Take off what you can and I’ll get you a towel.” Malik said to Bakura while taking off his shoes, socks and shirt, in that moment of the shirt being removed Malik found himself pressed against the wall of the hallway and lips ravaged his own and moved to his ear, then his neck. “Isis… might be… home.” Malik gasped out as Bakura skillfully found all his sensitive spots.
Bakura stopped, pulling away from his fest of tanned skin to call out. “Hey wench! I took a chip out of your table!” Bakura gave it a second for her to reply, then returned back to his Malik-meal.
Before Malik knew it they were both naked and he was being laid down on something hard with Bakura in his body, gripping his hips and thrusting. The creaking from under Malik was barley noticeable due to the distraction of pleasure that short through his body with every thrust.
The creaking incrusted as their rhythm sped up. The sound was ignored by the two males to reach their goal… for the final hooray of their climax and to Malik’s horror the creaking stopped and was replaced by a loud cracking sound. Both Malik and Bakura found themselves on the floor among bits of wood that not moments ago resembled a highly polished English oak coffee table.
Malik had spent a good half an hour freaking out on what kind of painful and gruesome death his sister would have in mind for him… to save himself, Malik took Bakura in search for someone to repair it for him or replace it.
*****************************************************
A few hours later Malik stood in the shop and was glaring at Bakura for his weather comment, like Malik could predict the weather, the dimwit on the t.v couldn’t get it right most days. “I’m saying it was an accident.” Bakura defended himself and hopefully put Malik at ease. "Damn, Malik it looked strong and being made out of English oak, it should have supported us better.” Bakura grinned adding. “It had all those other times.”
“That isn’t going to stop you from attending my funeral.” Malik shook his head and noticed the old shop owner approaching them.
“I’m sorry, I can’t repair it.” He said. “If I use what I have here it’ll be all different kinds of wood even if I stain it, it would be noticeable.” The shop own glanced about. “Maybe you could just buy a new one? It would be cheaper.” He said trying to help.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll just face my Executioner head on.” Malik sighed, his sister was never going to forgive him for this and once she also found out that it hadn’t been the first time Bakura and himself had had sex on her most treasured bit of furniture and the reason it had broken. She was definitely going to kill them both or pack him off to an all girls boarding school.
“Malik.” Bakura wrapped his arms about him in a hug and Malik lent against him feeling drained from his search and the stress. “Some things my love can’t be fixed.” Placing a soft chaste kiss to Malik’s lips, Bakura pulled back taking his boyfriend’s hand in his and leading him out of the shop and towards the mall saying. “We’ll cheer Isis up with buying her a new Nintendo Wii instead, because every girl’s gotta have one.”
Malik slapped a hand to his face and moaned out. “I’m fucking a moron.”
**********************************************************
End Chapter.
Note: Okay the theme here was broken, so yeah, broken coffee table came to mind as I couldn’t really think of anything else, well I could have but it would have full on anguish and I’m sure there will be a few of those coming up. Anyway leave a comment (love and marshmallows)
Characters: Yami Bakura/Malik Ishtar
Prompt: #71, Broken
Word Count: 2, 002
Rating: M
Chapters: 2/100
Summary: Bakura arched an eyebrow. “It looked strong enough to me.”
Warning(s): Mild Yaoi and really bad words.
Author's Notes: Watch out for scene change, as most of this is a flashback, umm, It is pretty straight forward story and reading, hoping, so enjoy.
*********************************************
“This is all your fault!” Malik hissed to the taller male beside him.
“How was I meant to know?” Bakura arched an eyebrow. “It looked strong enough to me.” He shrugged not really caring or saw what the big deal was.
“Does it look strong too you?!” Malik felt his right eye twitch and slapped a hand over it, making Bakura grin knowing just what he was doing and felt it best to leave out the teasing comments, for now. “If she notices what we have done she’s going to kill me Jack the Ripper style and then I’m breaking up with you.” Malik walked off deeper into the store, with a confused shop owner watching.
“Come now Malik. Everything will be alright as long as I get the more useful parts of your body when your sister is through with you!” What could Bakura say? He loved seeing Malik all worked up and flustered and loved it even more watching him walk away. Bakura started to chuckle when Malik spat out a bunch of incoherent rants and on the occasion Bakura’s name was surprisingly heard quite clearly through out the shop. “Malik!” Bakura walked after him.
A few words, just a few damn word summed Bakura right up, sexual deviate and a pervert and even after two years of being together… which was how Malik was in this mess of trouble and was always in trouble because of other people and Malik didn’t like pointing the finger at anyone… well there were two people who he seemed to be in the most trouble with.
Number one: His sister Isis and her unhealthy obsession, was one of his reasons of being here was to save his own hide and possibly Bakura’s as well.
Number two: Bakura and not keeping his hands to himself and his unhealthy obsession with Malik’s body, was his second reason for being here. Well, once Isis finds out just what happened, Bakura was a dead man and Malik would be marked as a single hot guy up for grabs… that would make quite a few people’s day a happy one.
Malik’s trouble all started when he moved in with his sister and started dating Bakura. Isis didn’t think much of Bakura to start with but was warming up to him fast, well as fast a sloth. Let’s also add to the unfair beatings and the abuse thrown his way nearly every day.
************************************************************
Whack! Was the resounding hit to Malik’s leg that made him jump and call out in fight and in slight pain, “How many times have I told you to keep your feet off my coffee table?!” His older sister scolded him with a rolled up news-paper in hand, like he was same damn puppy that did something wrong.
“I have socks on.” Malik rubbed his abused leg as his sister pulled out a rag and wiped away any marks that might have been left behind on the highly polished old English oak wood finish.
She glared at him that made Malik recoil somewhat into the armchair. “My father made this with his own two hands for my mother, who gave this table to me when I moved out!” She growled. Malik wondered if the book he had been reading could pose as a possible shield or an escape of some sought from his rather pissed off sister.
“We have the same parents,” Malik mumbled. Isis was so obsessed with her coffee table that Malik though it was unhealthy, no one he knew obsessed over a bit of furniture like she did. Isis kept a range of special rags for cleaning and a cupboard full of cleaning goods from waxes to polish that out did her make-up and shoe collection.
“I have had this table since I moved out; it has survived floods, wild parties, four building fires and almost got sold off in the last year’s antique sale, no thanks to you.” She stood up hands on hips eyeing for anymore marks. “I am making sure it’s going to survive, you!”
“Oh I so feel the love.” Malik rolled his eyes saying, “My dear sister you need a hobby or a cat. I personally lean towards you getting a hobby.”
“Malik I catch your feet on my table again I’ll cut them off and post them to you or gift wrap them. I personally lean towards posting them.” With that she left the living room, Malik watched her as she vanished to another part of the house.
Placing his feet up onto the table and got comfy again in the armchair and reopened his book and settled in for a few more chapters.
*******************************************************
“What do you think Malik?” Isis asked one afternoon, sitting back and admiring the new coat of polish on the table.
Malik sat on the couch hunched forward, bottom lip caught between pearly white teeth, a frown of concentration and controller in hand and fingers working over time. Bakura casually sat back in the couch a slight frown on his face and fingers moving every now and then, both males had their eyes and attentions glued onto the t.v screen… it was a matter of life and death. “Almost! Just a bit!” Malik mumbled, he was going to win.
“Malik!” Suddenly the screen was black and game console was powerless, both heads of sandy blond and white hair snapped to their right to see Isis had pulled out the plug for the vacuum cleaner. “I asked you, what do you think?” She pointed to the coffee table.
“You have no idea what you just did?!” Malik said with a shake of his head disbelieving what she had just done.
Bakura’s smirk came all on its own as realization hit him that Malik had lost the game, to him. Oh happy day!
“My table?” Isis said more sternly this time.
“It’s the same as it was last month and the month before that and the month before that one.”
“I’m using a new polish!” She growled.
“Oh yeah.” Malik lent forward a little pissed from losing the game, but maybe Bakura wouldn’t have noticed and they could do a rematch. “I can see my reflection. Oh no!” Malik gasped in shock while leaning over the table his eyes wide. Isis jumped as well and lent over to try and see what Malik was looking at. “My kohl lines are running, quick fetch my make-up kit!”
Whack! She hit him upside the head, “they’re scar-tattoos you idiot! They don’t run.” She huffed walking out of the room mumbling under her breath about annoying little brothers, leaving Malik to rub at his head.
Bakura moved forward and getting his hand in under Malik’s shirt and running it down his stomach, feeling Malik shudder at his touch… or was it because Bakura had such cold hands?
“You’re mine now, kitten.” Bakura purred in his ear and then taking a nibble, tearing a small moan from Malik’s lips… maybe losing to Bakura wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
*********************************************************
Malik looked over the rows of coffee tables in the shop and he knew there wasn’t going to be another one like it, and his sister was so going to killing him for sure. An image of Isis wearing a white hockey mask and wielding a revving chainsaw in her hands while screaming, ‘MALIK ISHTAR! I’M GOING TO CUT YOU INTO A TABLE!’
Malik jumped in fright and having the image of his now psycho sister flood away as Bakura said his name and wrapped his arms about his waist and rested his chin on top of Malik’s head. “I don’t know what I’m going to tell her if it can’t be...”
“I’m sure the old guy can do something with it.” Bakura said with a heavy sigh. “Hopefully nothing to expensive, ‘cause I’m looking forward to our dinner date.”
Malik turned about with narrowed lavender eyes that burned with irritation, instead of affection, “what makes you think I’m paying for this?” Malik hissed at him. “I’m not the one responsible for what happened.”
“You’re the one that said it wouldn’t rain this morning.” Bakura shot back and wished he hadn’t said anything at all as Malik took a rather threatening step forward.
Growling out through clutched teeth asking, “Do I look like a damn meteorologist?”
Bakura shook his head no.
**************************************************************
That morning Malik and Bakura burst in through the front doors of Malik’s house soaking wet from the sudden storm that ruined their day out together. “Take off what you can and I’ll get you a towel.” Malik said to Bakura while taking off his shoes, socks and shirt, in that moment of the shirt being removed Malik found himself pressed against the wall of the hallway and lips ravaged his own and moved to his ear, then his neck. “Isis… might be… home.” Malik gasped out as Bakura skillfully found all his sensitive spots.
Bakura stopped, pulling away from his fest of tanned skin to call out. “Hey wench! I took a chip out of your table!” Bakura gave it a second for her to reply, then returned back to his Malik-meal.
Before Malik knew it they were both naked and he was being laid down on something hard with Bakura in his body, gripping his hips and thrusting. The creaking from under Malik was barley noticeable due to the distraction of pleasure that short through his body with every thrust.
The creaking incrusted as their rhythm sped up. The sound was ignored by the two males to reach their goal… for the final hooray of their climax and to Malik’s horror the creaking stopped and was replaced by a loud cracking sound. Both Malik and Bakura found themselves on the floor among bits of wood that not moments ago resembled a highly polished English oak coffee table.
Malik had spent a good half an hour freaking out on what kind of painful and gruesome death his sister would have in mind for him… to save himself, Malik took Bakura in search for someone to repair it for him or replace it.
*****************************************************
A few hours later Malik stood in the shop and was glaring at Bakura for his weather comment, like Malik could predict the weather, the dimwit on the t.v couldn’t get it right most days. “I’m saying it was an accident.” Bakura defended himself and hopefully put Malik at ease. "Damn, Malik it looked strong and being made out of English oak, it should have supported us better.” Bakura grinned adding. “It had all those other times.”
“That isn’t going to stop you from attending my funeral.” Malik shook his head and noticed the old shop owner approaching them.
“I’m sorry, I can’t repair it.” He said. “If I use what I have here it’ll be all different kinds of wood even if I stain it, it would be noticeable.” The shop own glanced about. “Maybe you could just buy a new one? It would be cheaper.” He said trying to help.
“Thanks, but I think I’ll just face my Executioner head on.” Malik sighed, his sister was never going to forgive him for this and once she also found out that it hadn’t been the first time Bakura and himself had had sex on her most treasured bit of furniture and the reason it had broken. She was definitely going to kill them both or pack him off to an all girls boarding school.
“Malik.” Bakura wrapped his arms about him in a hug and Malik lent against him feeling drained from his search and the stress. “Some things my love can’t be fixed.” Placing a soft chaste kiss to Malik’s lips, Bakura pulled back taking his boyfriend’s hand in his and leading him out of the shop and towards the mall saying. “We’ll cheer Isis up with buying her a new Nintendo Wii instead, because every girl’s gotta have one.”
Malik slapped a hand to his face and moaned out. “I’m fucking a moron.”
**********************************************************
End Chapter.
Note: Okay the theme here was broken, so yeah, broken coffee table came to mind as I couldn’t really think of anything else, well I could have but it would have full on anguish and I’m sure there will be a few of those coming up. Anyway leave a comment (love and marshmallows)