(no subject)
Imagined Distractions.
Back straight, Seto typed at his laptop.
dark brown eyes looking up at him, bitter chocolate, pupils dilated and lips a scarlet wound against skin snow-pale but not snow-pure, lips pressing against his skin, leaving trails of fiery saliva as they move down, red tongue lapping at golden-cinnanom skin, red tongue licking up blood and licking at gold and red tongue sliding back between red lips, teeth whiter than his skin flashing in a mocking smirk
Seto's fingers tapped against the keys with more force than really necessary.
the smirk disappears and so does the sight of those dark eyes, a spiky lock of white hair appearing instead (so white and pale, the other is so white and pale, a ghost made flesh, flesh so delicous to bite and and suck and rip) and gold-laden arms tense, one hand reaching out to grab at the clean-bone hair but failing, clutching into a fist midway instead, slumping backwards into the chair, head lolling brokenly and back arching without conscious thought
Entering the command for the program to begin, Seto shifted subtly in his chair.
so hot and wet and wanton and oh gods, oh Ra, oh Horurs, he calls upon the entire pantheon, heedless of the sacrilege that he might be committing, for he loves evil best and all its multitude of sins and would flaunt his debauchery gladly at the gods themselves, for this is so intense and the other so skilled that were he not already damned, he would surely switch sides just so that this taste of tainted paradise would remain with him forever
As the program compiled, Seto kept his eyes on the screen.
a sudden hard suck leaves him squirming and writhing, lower body twisting from side to side, all self-control gone because he doesn't need it, what he needs is for that clever mouth not to stop and oh gods, by all the gods, he is going to WHACK the other with the Rod if he doesn't stop being such a tease
The program wasn't working, but Seto didn't know why.
tanned fingers wrapping around strands of bleach-white hair, slightly cloudy and as pure as anything real can be pure, tanned fingers yanking harshly, no breath left in him to speak with, no rationality in his mind left to command with, nothing but the knowledge of the weight of the Rod in one hand and the cruelly beautiful boy kneeling for him
An error was noted in the code and duly corrected, Seto typing more slowly than usual.
breathing quickens, ragged, no other sounds in the room, and a slim, pale body seems to glow in the darkness almost, shadows coiling around it as it unfolds to drape against him, pale fingers playing with locks of tarnished gold and wiping away the blood that clings to both their lips, matching smirks curving them upwards in lieu of kisses
Head bent, Seto stared at the keyboard where his hands lay loosely, rather than at the hard bulge at the crotch of his pants or at the now-compiling program.
one strong pull and a hissed gasp from lips no longer scarlet, dark eyes glaring at him but he doesn't care, just settles in a harsh grinding rhythm, the fabric of the chair pressing against his back and the ivory-tinged skin of the other sliding against his chest with every shift forwards, soft skin stretched over taut muscles, the friction eased slightly by the sweat forming on both of them
Without thinking about it, Seto tugged at the collar of his trenchcoat, and switched on the air-conditioning, his program still compiling.
one hand digging into the other's hip in what surely must be a painful manner (there'll be bruises later, but neither of them care, bruises are easy to explain away, not that anyone ever asks) and the other hand gripping tightly to the Rod that's pressed against the thief's spine, gold metal cold against the flushed skin and sweat-dampened hair, blade slicing into the other's back each time he rocks backwards
Finding his mouth to be suddenly dry, Seto drank a glass of water, eyes fixed unseeingly on the nearly-finished program.
silvery-white spikes of hair drooping over shapely shoulders, bodies pressed flush against each other and mouths ripping hungry kisses from each other, ripping skin, tasting blood and taking as much as they could before the explosion of pleasure would arrive to overwhelm them, one pair of eyelids so close to closed that only crescents of brown showed from under them, another pair sliding shut and snapping open, pulses of electric violet that matched their heartbeats and the sensual rhythm they were caught in
The compiling finished and the program started running as Seto suddenly came back to awareness This was what mattered. This was what was real. He didn't care about anything else. Not Yami no Malik. Not being alone. And not whatever the dark spirit might be doing with the spirit of the Ring.
Across the city, a golden false god laughs and pets the hair of the acolyte in his lap, other hand stroking the Rod. A final, teasing thought is sent to his former favorite toy, "Se-to... do you miss me?"
"How can I miss what does not exist?" Seto replied out loud, fingers stilled on the keyboard.
"The question is, how can you not?" Laughter, dark and delicously malicious before the living shadow turns his attention back to his paler counterpart, Seto seemingly forgotten for the moment at least.
The program worked perfectly.
~Fin~
Author's Note: Contains Yami no Malik/Seto, Seto/Computer and Yami no Malik/Yami no Bakura. Written as a response to a zombie plotbunny that Muse!Dani unleashed on me, wherein Seto fantasies about Yami no Malik and Yami no Bakura having sex. Want to see her way of killing the plotbunny? Click here to read it. Oh, and the tense shifts in this ficklet? Deliberate. So is the misspelling of 'ficlet'. Don't understand Yami no Malik's last comment? Comment and I'll explain it to you.
Any and all constructive criticism will be appreciated greatly. Also, I hope that this cheers up you and you.