Fiction on a stick

Dunno

2005-04-01T19:45:50Z

Forever unfinished. w00t.

The nightclub’s lights glittered, strobing off of bodies slick with sweat. The swirling colours, the pounding grace, it made these people graceful. Shine the spotlights, mute the volume, and you’d have a drunken practice in absurdity. Such was youth.

Daniel moved to put his cigarette in the ashtray, saw it overflowing, and threw the butt instead to the ground. He indulged in a quick fancy, picturing one of the outrageous drag queens going up in flames, her dress soaking in so much alcohol and hairspray and turning her into a pyre of everything that was wrong with this scene.

He suddenly lost all desire to be here. The sidelong glances aimed at him across the floor in all directions. Prepositions, friendly greetings, recognition on faces he couldn’t put names to. This place was a time bomb, ticking slowly and inexonorably into middle-age.

The door closed behind him with a click-wumph, and his ears rang in the abrupt decimal change. The baseline from The Vortex behind him still thubb-lubbed inside him, vibrations coming through his feet as he made his way homeward. He was only slightly unsteady, of which he was proud.

A garbage can clashed, and he startled as the clasher disappeared into the shadows. He turned his head away from the fleeing cat, and startled again.

“Jesus Christ! You scared me!”

“Wrong again. Hey-zeus. Say it with me now, Dan. Hey-zeus.” The Latino grinned the Cheshire smile of a coke-fiend, cocking his head first left, than right. “What this? Hither, I see not a young prince following thee, King of lays-.”

“Fuck off, Je-.”

“-Nor do I see thee entering the camero-chariot of a rich pitcher. Could our Daniel have lost his touch? My dear apostle, let me grant thee again the gift of tongues.”

Daniel pushed the other man away as he staggered forward, nearly tripping over his own feet. “I decided to leave them all for you, Jesus. They’re your type too.”

Jesus perked, “Rich?”

“Gay.” Daniel’s voice was gentle, taking the sting out of the jibe.

“Funny. And yet, alas, 'tis true.” Jesus attempted to pose melodramatically, nearly fell over, and seemed to forget what he was doing by the time he regained himself.

“You want any Dust? It’s light as a feather and free as a bird tonight.” He spread his arms wide, as if offering the world in a sniff.

“Nope. I only touch that shit after sex.” Daniel gestured towards the bar, hoping his pseudo friend would take the hint and go.

Hint taken. Jesus began to laugh. “Dan…” he gasped between fits of giggles, “You can’t lie to me. I know you’ve had sex before now.” He turned, still laughing. Daniel watched him all the way to The Vortex’s entrance, letting out a whoop and kicking open the door, before he turned and headed again towards home.

A light rain started, effectively ruining his night and killing his slight buzz as he started to get cold. He hastened his steps, avoiding the small puddles already pooling as he did. One of those puddles looked at him as he tromped by, hands in armpits, and it was only until he was a few steps further that he realized it, and turned around. The puddle was definitely looking at him.

It was a cat. A cold, wet cat, it’s fur runneled with water. Maybe it’s dead?

He poked it with a toe. It didn’t move. He was about to poke it again when he realized sticking a suede shoe into wet fur defeated the purpose of avoiding puddles.

“Fuck. Fuck and a half! God-dammit! Stupid roadkilled shoe-ruining beastie!” The cat’s head moved, and it glared at him. “Alive? Too bad. I was going to skin you and make a new shoe.” It put its head down again, into the water.

There wasn’t much reply for that. Daniel squatted, examining the creature. It was many different shades of grey, the wet making most of them so dark as to be black. The lightest bits had got the glaze from the streetlamps, making the thing look like just another puddle, reflections and all. Slowly, he reached out a finger and poked it where his boot had prodded before. Cold and wet and nasty. What sort of idiot cat sleeps in puddles? The cat lifted its head half-way, straining a bit to stare again, before it relaxed back down with a shuddering whuff. Daniel poked it again, to no response.

Okay, two choices here. I can play Florence Nightingale, taking the poor critter home, nursing it back to health so it can wander off and shit in someone’s garden, in the process incurring the wrath of my landlord and perhaps having to deal with a dead cat tomorrow morning. Or, I can be a normal apathetic young adult and leave it to its soggy fate.

…

“You’re lucky I hate my fucking landlord, puss.” He said as he scooped the (surprisingly heavy) sodden mess into his arms and continued his trudge home.
~

He wrestled with the security door of Silver Estates, nearly dropping the cat as he swung it open. Behind him, someone had caught the door just before it closed. Daniel shot a glare back over his shoulder, “Fucking homeless. Go squat somewhere else.”

“Go fuck yourself.” The bum said wittily, settling himself by the radiator for the night.

Dan got to his apartment, again playing a game of balance with the unconscious bundle. He kicked the door shut behind him and turned on the lights, their hundred-watt glare dazzling his eyes momentarily.

The apartment was… not quite stark. All the sorts of things a young man of an alternative lifestyle should have were present, in all the right places. But there was something a little too perfect, almost clinical, about the arrangement. Something that suggested it was all for show, and the tenant actually lived somewhere else.

Daniel carried it to the bedroom, set it on the floor, and went to the bathroom for a towel. “The problem with the homeless, puss, is they’re too uppity to stay on the streets and too stupid to get off them.” The cat gurgled. “Well, still alive now, at least.” He began towelling it off, gently but effectively. “Just like I do with my hair, eh, puss? Maybe you need some mousse.” He chuckled, “Look at me, talking to a bedraggled furball more water than cat.”

Despite his words, he fell silent after that. Patiently, he worked as much water from the cat’s fur as he could. It was beginning to feel warmer. The heat from its body let off a smell not unlike sex –musky, damp, and slightly feral.- He was humming tuneless electronica, working the towel into the cat’s paws, when he realized it had begun to purr.

“Well, you’re feeling a little better, I’d guess. Maybe you won’t die, after all. Don’t think I’m naming you tonight, puss. If you’re still alive after work tomorrow, you’re going to get a nice bus ride to the SPCA. You’ll get some little old lady to come take you home, or a nice needle that will defeat the purpose of all my work tonight. What a life, beastie. Heh.”

Daniel peeled off his wet clothes, drying himself a bit with the already wet towel and throwing it in the hamper. He retrieved another from the bathroom, which he laid the cat upon. It hadn’t opened its eyes since they entered the apartment, but it was still purring and now fairly dry. Turning off the light, he crawled into bed, set the alarm, and snuggled down deep. He shivered, awake, for a while, finally curling his knees to his chest. He remembered tucking his feet in tight and Jesus’ grinning face cross his inner eye before drifting off to sleep.
~

Sometime in the night the cat leapt onto the bed beside Daniel. It settled itself on his chest, as if to steal his breath away like another baby or infirm. Watching his face, it extended a sheathed paw, batting his chin. No movement from the sleeping form save the soft rise and fall of the cat’s perch. It moved forward, pressing a paw to Daniel’s forehead. A phosphorescent blue glow seeped from the edges of the cats paw, but again the sleeper was oblivious. The cat hruff’ed to itself, satisfied, and leapt back to its place on the floor. The glowing paw print on Daniel’s forehead shone bright for a moment, then faded and disappeared.
~

“-body was hurt, but witnesses say it had ‘A nice rack.’ They were talking about the horns, folks. A new one from the Corporate Sell-outs coming up. I’m Sid Savage and you’re listening to SuckFM, 92.4.”

Groaning, Daniel rolled over, burrowing his head into his pillow as far as it would go. At the first discordant tunes of “Wal-mart ate my baby,” however, he sat up and turned off the vile noise, groaning again. As he hung his feet off the bed, they met warm fur, and he startled. The cat was deep asleep.

He stared at it stupidly for a few moments, his mind slowly recollecting last night. Vortex, no lay, Jesus, rain, cat, boots, homeless guy, towel…

“My fucking boots,” he moaned, falling back onto the bed for a moment. “The cat ruined my awesome boots. Damn…”

Glancing at the clock, Daniel stumbled to the washroom. Cat or no cat, boots or no boots, he still had to work in a few hours.

The apartment slowly filled with steam, emanating from the open bathroom door. The scent of kiwi and ylang-ylang, followed soon after. Still the cat slept.

Daniel stood naked in front of the mirror, drip-drying. The cat jumped with the buzz of the electric razor, searching for the noise. It stared at Daniel.

“Sorry puss,” Daniel chuckled, brandishing the razor. The cat continued to stare. A little unnerved, he turned back to the mirror to finish. He could feel the cats eyes on his back. Creepy.

He came out of the bathroom, the cat still watching him. “What do you expect, beastie?” He picked up the towel at the cat’s feet. It didn’t move. “I used all my towels nursing you back to life last night.” He shook the thing out and looked at it. No hair? Lucky me. Towelling himself off, he threw the now-damp towel in the hamper and went to the closet, the cat still staring.

“Jesus, I know I’m hot, but you’re freaking me out, kitty-cat. Stop staring.”

The cat turned around, nosing at the carpet.

“That’s… a little freakier.” Shaking off the tingle down is spine, Dan dressed himself in Work Clothes. Slacks, crisp navy shirt, black suit-jacket. Another glance at the clock. “Shit.” He slung the tie around his neck, and dashed to the door, stuffing his feet into only slightly scuffed loafers. “If I’m late for work I’m blaming you!” The door closed behind him, locking automatically.
~

“Locke and Simon insurance claims, how may I help you? … He’ll be right with you, please hold.” Daniel pressed the hold button on the phone, and pressed the intercom. “Dr. Spitz on line 2, sir.”

“Put him through.” The man’s voice, deep as it was, boomed from the little box on Daniel’s desk.

“Yes sir. Mrs. Milling’s still holding on line one.”

“She can wait a few more minutes.” There was the beginning of a mumble just before the intercom shut off. Daniel grinned, knowing his boss, it was probably a colourful insult. He put line two through, and picked up line one. “Mrs. Miller? He’s still in with a client, it will just be a few more minutes.” He put her on hold just as the piercing tones of upset femininity began. “Vile harpy woman…”

A chuckle from the desk across from him. “I could take offence to that, you know.”

“Hush.”

“No, really.” Samantha grinned. “Why are only women harpies? I’ve met some pretty shrill men.”

Daniel leaned back in his chair, swivelling a bit as he gesticulated. “One; harpies are women. Look it up. Two; if I called everyone a harpy, you would get bored. Three; men are asshats, not harpies.”

“Four; please remember they’re mine and Ben’s clients, and they’re the reason we can afford to pay you, so please keep it down out here.” The big man grinned, glistening white teeth, made brighter by the near-ebony of his skin. “I could hear you two in my office. Dr. Spitz now thinks I have a congestion because I was trying not to laugh.”

Samantha was giggling, but it cut off abruptly when her phone rang. Totally professional, she answered. “I can set up an appointment for you, ma’am. Tuesday?” Eyes sparkling, she waved a blank sheet of stationary, making paper-shuffling noises. “It looks like we have an opening at 2.30 that day. I’m sorry?” A pause. “I’ll tell you what, ma’am, I can squeeze you in at 11.30 before Mr. Simon’s lunch break… No, it’s fine, I’m sure he’ll be eager to help you any way he can. Thank you for calling Locke and Simon. Have a nice day.” She hung up, grinning to herself. Daniel was laughing.

“What was that all about?” Mr. Locke had the look of someone ready to either laugh or discipline.

Samantha was laughing so hard she was silent, so Daniel answered. “It’s kind of a challenge, sir. Nobody ever wants to make an appointment for 2.30. It’s like some voodoo time. We’ve been trying for weeks to get someone to take a 2.30 appointment. Whoever wins has to buy the other lunch.”

Samantha had calmed down by this time, and made a quick note in the ledger. “What’s weirder, is that whenever someone wants to reschedule an appointment, 2.30 is the best time.”

Mr. Locke had been following this explanation with a raised brow. After a moment, he sighed and shook his head. “The games secretaries play…” he muttered.

“Office assistants!” they chimed in unison.

He went back into his office, popping his head back out the doorway “Just keep it quiet, you two.”

They both collapsed into peals of laughter when the door closed, laughter fading long after his should have.

“Hey,” Daniel said between chuckles, “You want a cat?”
~

“I can’t believe you haven’t fed it!” Daniel was sitting in the passenger side of Samantha’s Intrepid, hands folded over the jacket in his lap and looking for all the world like a little kid in trouble. Which, in essence, he was.

“I didn’t think about that part!”

“Obviously not.” Samantha sad, glancing at him. “What good is saving the creature if you turn around and starve it right after.”

“I’m sorry! It’s not like it’s gonna die in the eight hours I was gone!” Jesus, he thought, it would have been easier to have just let it die out there. I did a stupid thing, yeah. But I did a good thing saving it. That kind of stuff should balance out.

They pulled into the lot of a Wal-Mart. Samantha stopped in front of the main doors. She seemed to be thinking. “Let me guess. If you forgot to feed that poor thing, you probably forgot to give it any place to go to the bathroom too, right?”

“What?!” There was a sinking feeling as Daniel thought of his carpets.

“Right again,” Samantha sighed, “Okay, Dan, you need to go in, and you need to buy some cat food. You should think about buying some stain remover, too.”

“No! It wouldn’t.”

“It can’t help it!”

“That’s not what I meant.” Daniel was grasping at straws. First stage: Denial. “It wouldn’t shit on my floor.”

“It’s not gonna use the toilet.”

“No, I mean, if I didn’t feed it, how can it shit?” Samantha killed that argument with a look. Second stage: Anger. “Fuck no! Stupid goddamn cat stains my carpet, after I go and help it out! I’ll kill it myself when I get home. Ruined my shoes, too-“

“That was your fault, from what you-“

“No, better yet! I’ll Toss it in the bathtub first. Get it nice and soaking wet-“

“Dan-“

“-And wait until tonight, and put it right back where I found it-“

“Dan-!”

“That’ll teach it. Leaving a mess in MY house-“

“DANEIL KRISTOPHER!”

Daniel blinked, “What?”

“You are NOT going to abuse an animal for your own mistakes. Now get into that store- No. Wait here, while I go into that store and buy cat food. And by the time I get back, I expect your hissyfit to be over.”

“Yes, mum.” Daniel said sulkily.

The door slammed, leaving Daniel alone with the radio. For the second time that day, he heard the opening chords of The Corporate Sell-outs.

Stage three: Acceptance. “Stupid beastie…”
~

“Puss, where are you?” Daniel’s keys jangled as he took them out of the lock. He felt incredibly stupid calling out like that.
“We’ve got nummies!” Samantha chimed in, entering behind Daniel and looking around as he closed the door behind her. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s a cat. If you want something that’s going to come when you call, you should get a dog… or a lizard.”

“Lizards come when you call?”

“Geckos and stuff do, I heard.”

“Who told you that?”

“… Jesus Elizondo…”

Sam rolled her eyes, “Oh, sure voice of authority there, Dan. I’m sure a lot of things some when that boy calls.”

“Don’t be rude.” Dan was laughing as he said it, tossing his coat on a chair.

“It’s not like I don’t like the guy, you know that.” Sam said, laying her coat atop Daniel’s. “I just don’t think a coke head is someone you should be trusting about animal capabilities.”

“No? Instead I’m supposed to trust some airhead secretary?”

Sam raised a brow, “So speaks the one who forgot living things need food.”

“Hush.”

There was a pause. Sam looked around, “Speaking of things that need food…” She started towards the bedroom. “Puss? Where are you, kitty?”

The cat came out the door just before Sam entered it. She thought she saw a streak of blue light, but dismissed it as a trick of the eye. The cat sauntered past her with nary a glance and sat in the middle of the living room, staring at Daniel.

“Well, don’t you look better, puss.” Daniel crossed his arms, glancing at Samantha as she wandered back into the living room behind the cat. “Don’t look so smug, beastie. If you’ve made a mess so help me I’ll skin you alive.” The cat flicked its tail dismissively.

“It’s so CUTE!” Sam grinned, crouching beside it and stroking it. “So soft, too! You, my friend,” she said, scratching it behind its ears. “Are the epitome of felinity.” It leaned into her hand, purring with half-closed eyes.

“Glad you approve.” Daniel checked his bedroom, found no signs of poo, and returned, much relieved. “You’ll take it home, then?”
The cat stiffened, but neither of the two noticed, as Samantha had looked at Dan, who wasn’t paying attention to much of anything. “I might. Lets feed it first and see if it eats first. If it hasn’t gone to the bathroom all day it might have something wrong with it.”

“Of course there’s something wrong with it!” Daniel took the can of food from Samantha, going to the kitchen. “It’s too stupid to get out of the rain. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was too stupid to shit and too stupid to eat, too!”

Samantha had picked up the unmoving cat and carried it to the couch, still cuddling it. “What a horrible thing to say. What if its sick and suffering and you’re making fun of it and making it feel bad?”

“Oh, god forbid I upset the retarded puss.” Sarcasm carried suite well in this apartment, apparently.

“Don’t worry kitten.” Samantha said to the cat, which was staring intently at the kitchen, tense on her lap. “I’ll take you home and be nice to you and love you and you won’t have to deal with this big stupid man ever again.”

The electric buzz of the can opener startled Samantha. At the same time the looked up, the cat leapt off her lap and was in the bedroom. “Shit!”

Dan came out moments later, crinkling his face at the smell of what was in the bowl he was carrying. “Did you say something? The smells like-“

“Shit!”

“Yep.”

“No, I mean, the cat flipped out when you made that nose and ripped my hose.” There was a tear in Samantha’s pantyhose, already beginning to run, and an angry red scratch underneath.

Daniel blinked, looked surprised, then sheepish. “Oh, yeah… It got kind of wiggy when I was shaving this morning, too… Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Samantha dismissed it with a wave of a hand, “These things are pretty cheap. Lets just get your cat fed.”

“Your cat, unless you’ve changed your mind…?”

“Don’t be stupid. It’ll be my cat when I take it home. Until then, it belongs to you.”

Dan stared at her, grinning. “I think you’ve been talking to Mr. Locke too much, Mistress Legality.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “Spare me till the poor thing’s fed, alright?”

Daniel’s room was as he left it that morning, a towel laying on the floor. The cat was nowhere to be found.

Glancing at each other, Samantha crouched down, peering under the bed. “I bet the poor thing’s terrified…” She trailed off when she saw the cat looking anything but. Crouched right in the center of the under-bed space, it looked more smug than anything. “She’s under here, but I don’t think we’ll be getting her out anytime soon.”

“When did it become female?”

Samantha sighed, “She bleeds feminine grace and wisdom. Its totally obvious.”

“Just because something bleeds doesn’t make it female.” Daniel muttered loudly, crouching on the other die of the bed and meeting Samantha’s grin with like. “No, if it was shrieking like a harpy, Sammy, I might agree with you.”

This cheerful banter went on for the better part of an hour, while the friends tried to cajole, bribe, and finally scare the cat out. It was having none of it, and stayed crouched under the bed, staring at the as if they were stupid.

Samantha sighed, now on top of the bed, resting her forearm against her eyes, “It’s not coming out.”

“C’mon, just try once more. It’s got to come out sometime.” Daniel was still at the bedside, half-heartedly poking a coat-hanger at the cat, as he’d been doing for the last ten minutes.

“I’m sorry I have a life. You do to. I’m not gonna sit here forever. It’ll come out, and when its calm I’ll take it.”

“Sammy,” the barest hint of a desperate whine crept into Daniel’s voice, “I don’t want this thing here another night.” His face blanched, “What if it shits under there?”

“One-track mind,” Samantha chuckled, rolling over to poke Daniel in the head, “Just leave the food and ignore it. It’ll come out to eat, then lock it in the bathroom.”

“That won’t stop it.”

“No, but it’ll be a helluva lot easier to clean up.” At the horrified look on her friend’s face, Samantha laughed, getting off the bed. “It’s not that bad. She’s only a little cat.”

Daniel followed her to the living room, walking her to the door. “But you’ll take it, won’t you?”

“Yes, Dan, I’ll rescue the poor thing as soon as I can. Make sure she eats.” Just as he was closing the door behind her, Sam called.

“Wait, I forgot to tell you at work today!”

“What?”

“There was something really strange in the papers today. I’m guessing you haven’t seen it because you didn’t say anything, but I think you should check it out.”

“What, exactly, am I supposed to be checking out?”

Sam shook her head, her face a momentary enigma. “I don’t know. Something incredibly stupid, or scary. I’m not sure which.” She turned. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Just look it up, it’s probably everywhere by now.”

“The hell…?” Daniel muttered at he closed and bolted the door. He pushed the power button on his desktop, and took the (slightly crusting) bowl of cat food from the coffee table, setting it just outside the bedroom door where both he and the cat could see it. “Don’t think I’m not watching, puss. You’re way more trouble than you’re worth, you know that?”

Settling at his machine, Daniel opened the browser, logging onto the National Post website (which he had embarrassingly had to google.) The headline left him feeling blank, someone caught not knowing whether something is a terrible joke or a terrible truth.

“American Scientist Finds Cure for Gay”

Here it is...

2005-04-01T19:30:23Z

For the non-friended masses... The infamous (HAHA I KID MYESELF)

TROLLSMUT

Prologue: The Waffley Non-Smut

"I really don't think this is a good plan." Ryou pleaded with his Yami, "Not that you've ever really had the best interests of other people in mind, but this is going too far."

"And how far is too far?" the alien soul thought at him. In control for the moment, his voice echoed around the dark chamber.

Ryou, propped against a more solid bit of the darkness, sighed. "You know what I mean. You've always been sort of sick, but at least it suited you. This plan of yours doesn't make sense."

A chuckle rumbled through the nonspace, "This will help me more than you think. The best way to succeed is to undermine those around you, after all."

Ryou sighed at his Yami, rubbing his head with a hand. The air of the void always seemed to fluff his hair more than usual. "So, once you toss them into the Shadow Realm, what do you plan to do then?"

"You'll see." As if on cue, light opened up in front of Bakura. He had a big-screened veiw of a street, that bobbed a bit as Yami Bakura walked down it. "You never know, you might enjoy it."
~
Hiroto and Katsuya were splayed on opposite ends of the couch, watching television. It was some sort of game show where the contestant had to answer questions in a certain amount of time, before a door opened and they were covered in goo or pudding or killer bees. Both of the boys had a blank look on their faces, both sets of eyes glues to the screen. Katsuya had the added bonus of potato crisps, which were migrating from bag to mouth in a regular rhythm.

A rhythm which was interrupted when a poor women had failed to answer the questions quickly, and was now covered with mayonaise. "That's disgusting!" Katsuya said, crumbs falling out of his mouth to land on the couch cusions and shirt, purpose forever unfulfilled.

Hiroto looked at the other boy from the corner of his eye. "The television, or you?" the tiniest smirk twitched his lip.

"What?" Katsuya blinked, fistful of crisps still forgotten half-way through their journey.

Hiroto adopted a deep, pseudo-American accent, much like the announcer on the wildlife shows his mum was so fond of watching. "And here we have the Jounouchi-yajuu. Watch how he decimates his prey, ripping them apart. As he tears into the poor animals, he makes a mess of himself and his best friend's couch. The most notable factor of the Jounouchi-yajuu is his uncanny ability to leave before parent get home, thus leaving his best friend to clean up after him."

Katsuya, who had been listening to the whole thing with wide eyes, slowly crushed the crisps in his fist, who would have sreamed as they were mashed to bits, is only they had little potato voices. "You bastard!" Laughing despite it, Katsuya threw himself at his best friend, mashing crisp crumbs into his hair.

Hiroto, his delecately crafted hair-point smashed, growled and entered the fray with a vengeance.

The doorbell rang a few moments later, and the two boys paused. Katsuya had just registered Hiroto's hand on his crotch, and was still working through that when Hiroto snatched it away. Mumbling something nonchalant, he wriggled out from under Katsuya (who had been besting him just when they were interrupted) and went to answer the door.

He swung it open to reveal Bakura, who had an inward-looking expression that Hiroshi had seen so many times on Yuugi that he barely noticed it. What he did notice, however, was the ring that hung around his friend's neck.

"Hello, Honda-kun." Ryou said, looking perfectly, normally abashed at showing up without calling first. His eyes took in the smooshed hair, then quickly looked away. Hiroto had a sneaking suspicion he was trying not to laugh. "Is Jounouchi-kun here?"

"Er, yeah. Come on in." Hiroto turned and padded back into the living room, leaving Bakura to let himself in. Katsuya was back on the couch in a circle of crumbs. Staring at the television, the crisps migration into oblivion back underway, he didn't even glance up. He made an inquiring sort of noise through the food.

"It's Bakura." Hiroto said, flopping over the back of the couch on the other side, feet dangling in the air. He snagged a crisp from the bag and munched upside-down, trying not to grin at Katsuya's incredulous look.

"Bakura! Has he ever come over before?"

Hiroshi shrugged upside-down, a difficult and odd-looking feat. "That's not all, he's wearing the Millenium Necklace." Hiroshi quirked a brow at Katsuya's expression.

The blond mulled the thought over a moment, then it clicked and he nearly choked. "The thing that makes Eevil Bakura?" (the name accented with spooky finger wigglies) "I thought you tossed it off the castle at Duel Island...?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure I did, but he's wearing it. He doesn't seem so evil now, though, so maybe-"

He was cut off by a soft fwapping as Ryou wandered into the room, looking around. Hiroshi's house slippers were in his room, where he had forgotten them the night before, and Katsuya was wearing the guest slipper, so Ryou had put on the only ones by the door. They belongs to Mr.Honda, and flopped about oddly on Bakura's (much smaller) feet. "Were you talking about me, Honda-kun?"

"Yeah." Katsuya said, never one for preamble. "It's just that you've never come over before. And you're wearing the freaky necklace thing again."

"Oh, this." Ryou fingered the Ring and smiled, "I don't know what was wrong with it before, but it seems fine now. Nothing to worry about, Jounouchi-kun."

(Meanwhile, Ryou was giving his window a disgusted look. "You're terrible at this. I can't beleive you're fooling them."

(The disembodied voice cackled. "People will beleive anything they want to be true, Ryou. Those two don't want to think of their friend Bakura being crazy and trying to kill them. They're not entirely sure most of the Duel Island garbage happened at all. Besides, the part you'll enjoy is coming up.")

Hiroto was patting the couch space between him and his friend, while trying to wipe some crumbs off the cusion. "Sit down. Me and Jounouchi were just hanging out." When Ryou eyed his hair, he felt the need to add, "Watching television."

Ryou perched on the edge of the couch, watching the two boys pretend to watch television while they were actually watching him.

("Three... Two... One...")

"Rauauraugh! I am evil Ring Yami Bakura! I shall suck your souls out! Bwa-ha-hah!" Ryou wiggled evily.

Instantly, both Hiroto and Katsuya were on top of him, the blond holding him down while Hiroto pried the ring off Bakura's neck. "I knew it! The ring still makes him go crazy!" As soon as the loop was pulled from his neck, Ryou stopped struggling and adopted a confused puppy look.

("I still can't beleive they're falling for it." Ryou muttered, hands pressed to the window and peering out at Hiroto dangling the (fake) ring in front of him. "And I still don't know what purpose of yours this serves."

("Patience, my whiny host. You'll see soon enough." Ryou knew the Yami had created the fake Ring with magic, and that its purpose was to bring Katsuya and Honda to the Shadow Realm. But beyond that, he was lost. 'Well, can't be helped, I guess. Poor Honda-kun, poor Jounouchi-kun, I wish I could warn them, but I don't even know what to warn them against...' Ryou settled himself back down to watch whatever was going to happen. He had grown surprisingly numb to the spirit's plans lately, and had a sneaking suspicion this entire set-up was just to scare a reaction from him.)

"-I'm confiscating this," Hiroto was saying. "Obviously tossing it off a cliff didn't help, so I'll just have to keep it here."

Ryou blinked up at him. "My Ring...?! Honda-kun, Jounouchi-kun, what happened? Why am I here?"

Katsuya sighed, "You don't remember anything, Bakura? Anything at all?" He shook his head in a way that made ryou-inside-the-head feel slightly nauseated.

"You were taken over by the evil spirit again." Honda tossed the Ring on the couch. "Go on home, Bakura. I'll walk you to the door."

Katsuya followed behind, and together they saw Ryou out, bowing and apologizing the whole time he put his shoes on and half-way down the walk.

"Well, that fills my weird factor for the next three months." Katsuya muttered, throwing himself on the much-abused couch and rising again with a yelp. He held the Ring in one hand, and was massaging his arse with the other.

Hiroto chuckled, watching Katsuya's hand for a moment before snapping his eyes upwards. "What the hell do we do with that thing?" He asked, gesturing towards the Ring.

"Dunno." Katsuya flipped the thing over in his hand a few times, hefting it, "Doesn't feel very evil to me. Just a little... tingly."

"Tingly?" Hiroto was about to question the use of the word "tingly" for anything as he stepped forward to take the Ring from Katsuya. As his hands closed around it, he met Jounouchi's eyes, and the world exploded in a flash of argyle.
~
"Argyle?!"

"I happen to like argyle, thankyouverymuch." His Yami sounded far too amused for the world to be safe.

Chapter 1: The Meaty Bit</c>

Katsuya kept his eyes closed, too afraid of what he would see when he opened them. By the sounds around him, he was definitely not in his house anymore. A breeze blew over him, feeling oddly strange. There was a guttural moan somewhere off to his left, and his eyes snapped open, survival instinct winning out.

A few feet to his left was a green monstrosity, holding its huge horned head in its hands and groaning. Scrambling to a sitting position, Katsuya tried to cry out. Oddly, the sound was nothing he had heard coming out of him before. Out of his mouth, anyways.

The noise made the beast stir, though. Cruel little red eyes squinted at him. Katsuya squinted back, realizing there was something... different about the woods he was in. He didn't recognize them, of course, but the look of them was a little too clear for the twilight.

Grunting, the monster scrambled backwards, staring at Katsuya. Slowly, never taking his eyes from the troll, Jounouchi got to his feet, readying himself to run for it. His tongue felt thick in his mouth, and he swallowed ineffectually.

Giving himself a last push upwards, Katsuya nearly toppled over again as he stood. He was too tall, and his head felt overbalanced. He caught a glance of red as he balanced himself, and brought his hand up. Staring bemusedly, his brain was trying to work it's way through this new information. He was looking at a hairy forearm, ending in a gnarled hand. He tried to move his hand, and the monster hand twitched. Well, that was silly, he thought, the monster's hand wasn't his. He tried again, and again the monster hand moved. Despite himself, Katsuya let out a frightened little moo.

The green monster was staring at him, confused. It was moving its head back and forth. Why was it shaking its head at him?

What in the blazes was that red beast doing? Hiroto wondered if maybe the thing was really so stupid as to be surprised at its own hand. Somehow, he doubted it. His own head felt funny, as if someone had glued a dinnerplate onto it.

When the thing across the clearing let out a noise that could only be a moo, Hiroto's mouth dropped open. A mooing troll. He ran his tongue over his teeth nervously... and cut them. Yelping, he reacted without thinking and brought his hands to his mouth, "Shit! God damn... Owwwww!"

The green troll suddenly remembered, Katsuya looked past his hand, and saw it jumping around in pain. Despite the freakiness of the night already, Katusya couldn't help himself. He laughed, which came out as a deep rumbling.

"It's not funny!" Hiroto was having difficulty forming the words. His mouth seemed the wrong shape for the words, and he was afraid to cut his tongue again. He was trying to process pain, his own sudden revelation about his body, and couldn't very well be expected to deal with a bloody laughing monster just now, thanks.

The laughing stopped so abruptly that Hiroto whirled, wondering if the beast had charged. But it was staring at him, mouth hanging open. Its teeth dripped with saliva, and its tongue lolled out a bit. Oh great, it was imagining eating him before it decided to lunge.

His brain had so far made the most basic connections, but hadn't yet gotten to the part where Hiroto panicked, and so the thought of trying to bluff the creature seemed like a good plan. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't do that! I'm a big nasty monster thing too! So don't try anything or I'll, uh, kick your ass!"

"H-HONDA?!"

"What's it to you, you-What?"

The red beast was sputtering, little beads of spit flying out of its mouth, "I can't, you, wow... I... Honda! It's me! Katsuya!"

"What?!" Hiroto said again. It was really the best word to use it situations like this. However, after a moments thought, he realized that Katsuya-the-monster was about as likely as anything else. "Jou-Jounouchi? You're... Ugly!"

"You're not such a looker yourself, you know." Katsuya retorted, then blinked. "You know...You know what you look like?!"

"Let me guess. It has something to do with a bridge and some goats."

"Well, yeah, no shit, but no! You look like the card! The Swamp Battle Guard!"

Hiroto was never as big into Duel Monsters as Katsuya or Yuugi, but he immediately recognized the Katsuya-beast as looking parallel to the Lava Battle Guard. "It's, It's Bakura's stupid ring! Look what it did to us!? That bastard, I'll kill him!"

Katsuya made his way across the clearing, nearly stumbling a few times, not used to the body he was in. He finally learned a wobbly sort of lumber that got him over to Hiroto without making him fall down. "I'll help. But first we need to do something about this. I want my body back, NOW."

(Ryou sat on his bed, in control of his body for the moment. However, he did not want to be anywhere but where he was. His eyes were closed, and in his mind's eye he could see his Yami, and beyond his Yami, the clearing. He was getting pretty sick of looking at windows. "Great," he muttered. "Now they want to skin me alive. The spell won't last forever, you know that. Would you please tell me what the point of this is yet?"

"You should be locked up in an object for a few thousand years." Yami Bakura snapped. "It might teach you some patience." His voice brightened immediately, though; his plan was too perfect to keep him broody for long. "You'll find out.")

"I have a feeling Yuugi's not gonna get us out of this one. We're on our own." Hiroto looked around the clearing. It was a basic, if uneven, circle, and no way looked like a promising exit, so he stayed where he was.

"Don't say that!" Katsuya's voice was raspy, like gravel being swooshed around in a tin pan. Hiroto's newly acquired ears didn't find the sound unappealing, though.

Trying to muster up his friend's courage, and indeed some of his own, he laughed. "What? We don't need Yuugi to get us out of this. Before, when we were turned into cards, at least we were human. Yuugi might just Dark Magic zap us first and listen later." He could see Katsuya was getting drawn into the game, listening, and continued. "Do you really want him to see us like this, anyways?"

"Honda, this is too big for us, I think..." he paused, considering. "I don't like the thought of being zapped by Eevil Bakura," (the finger wigglies, a force of habit, looked oddly lecherous on a hulking red troll) "But I like the thought of being zapped by Yuugi even less... And I really, really don't want him to see me like this." He wiped his mouth with a hairy arm, looking at the drool glistening there. "It's gross."

"I dunno..." Hiroto said, grinning. It was a nasty monster grin, and Katsuya nearly drew back from it, but remembered himself and stood still as Hiroto closed the final step between them. A green, clawed hand came up, and tugged the puff of hair on Katsuya's chest. "This part might be an improvement." Hiroto tugged it a little more, staring into the beady yellow eyes, and thought he could recognize Katsuya in those pupil-less depths. "You always wanted to have hair on your chest."

"Honda..." Katsuya groaned, his words barely recognizable around his deep grumbles. His entire chest vibrated with them, and Hiroto, curious, put his other hand to Katsuya's chest, the taut pink skin shaking and cooler than he would have thought. "Stop it, Honda..."

Hiroto blinked. "Why?"

He whimpered, the octaves-higher pitch twinging in Hiroto's ears. Katsuya stepped back, his hands coming down and covering his hairy loincloth. "Animal instincts, I think..."

("You pervy git!!"

(Yami Bakura cackled.)

Hiroto drew back, blinking at Katsuya. He started laughing, a huge bellow, his monstrous grin wider than ever. Katsuya glared, but Hiroto just shook his head, still rumbled, and moved sideways a bit.

Katsuya kept his eyes on Hiroto. His ears had turned an odd murky brown with his blushing. "It's not funny. What are you doing, Honda?"

"Oh, I don't know." Hiroto rumbled. Katsuya didn't like the look in those beady red eyes. "Animal instincts, is it? So, I wander was would happen if I were to.. do this." Reaching out, he grabbed Katsuya's shoulders and pulled him close, his chest pressed against Katsuya's back.

Katsuya turned Hiroto's name into an odd growl, then hiccoughed. "What are you..." He went rigid in Hiroto's arms, and his voice was scandalized. "What the hell is prodding me in the back?"

"Animal instincts."

Struggling limply, Katsuya could feel his resolve dying. Despite being a big ugly monster, feeling arms around him wasn't so bad. He could just close his eyes and pretend he was in his own body. He felt what he hoped was his manhood...er, monsterhood twitch. If he were a female Battle Guard he'd - This line of thought was cut off abruptly when Hiroto nipped him sharply on the ear.

Somehow, Katsuya turned himself around without Hiroto ever unlocking his arms. Pressed against the expansive green chest, he was oddly surprised to be eyelevel with the swamp monster. He now knew, without a doubt, what the thing that had been prodding him was, as it was now touching his own, blocked only by their loincloths.

Apparently, Hiroto noticed too, as something left his eyes. With a growl, he tore at the furred loincloth covering Katsuya. Katsuya, still with some of his humanity left, yelped and wriggled free.

Unable to help himself, Katsuya glanced down. Ten inches of throbbing bovine cock looked up at him. He squashed down the twitch of pride at this, and looked back at Hiroto, who had rid himself of his own purple cloth. Eleven and a half. Damn. Katsuya couldn't take his eyes off of it; he swore he could see the purple vein in the green skin pump. "Honda..."

Hiroto growled and lunged at Katsuya, knocking him to the ground. Katsuya struggled, though not whole heartedly. His eyes would have watered as the massive green bulk squished his member; but he discovered that trolls couldn't cry.

When his struggles had calmed down considerably, Hiroto leaned back. Katsuya moaned when his member was free of the weight, but soon moaned for an entirely different reason. Surprisingly gentle, Hiroto was dragging a talon across his shaft. Katsuya twitched under his hand and felt himself slipping farther away. He grasped desperately for his reasoning, but thought to himself that animal instincts might not be such a bad thing after all.

Coherent thought left him when Hiroto, no, the Swamp Guard, poked a pointed claw at the slit on the end of his cock. Roaring in pain and ecstasy, the Lava Guard brought up a hand, swiping his own talons across the taut green chest. In only incensed the beast more and, penii forgotten, the two wrestled each other across the clearing.

Biting the Swamp Guard on the ear, the Katsuya-troll climbed to his feet, roaring his domination. Glaring up at him, red eyes flashing, Hiroto-troll made a grab for Lava guard's waist-high handle. Katsuya-troll twisted in time, though, but Hiroto-troll's hand taken a handful of the auburn hair that covered his red ass, and tugged. Squealing, Katsuya-troll fell to the ground, his muzzled face landing between two thick green thighs.

He wiggled his legs, but the green behemoth wouldn't let go of the deathgrip he had on Katsuya-troll's asshair. So, the Lava guard decided that biting his balls off would be a good plan. Some spark of reason made a little polite cough in the back of his head, though, and instead a long, slavering tongue licked, tangling itself through the hair there. This had the opposite of the desired affect, though, as the Swamp guard groaned and tightened his grip, shuddering. Katsuya-troll continued, licking up the bottom of the shaft. He cut his own tongue now on his jagged teeth, and decided that taking the monstrous cock into his monstrous mouth probably wasn't desirable.

The Swamp guard had had about enough of this, though. Growling, he tugged hard on the hair in his fist and hoisted the Katsuya-troll over and onto his back.

Being dragged around by his asshair was a wholly unpleasant experience, and Katsuya growled. However, he admitted the superiority of the Swamp guard, and prostrated himself accordingly, anger only in his glowing yellow eyes.

Crouching over him, Hiroto brought his face inches from Katsuya's. He paused for a second, unsure, and his mouth made an odd movement, mouthing Katsuya's name. But their cocks rubbed each other again and the Swamp troll grunted. Reaching back, he heaved one massive red leg over his shoulder, and leaned in.

(Ryou was watching this with the sort of rapt disgust usually reserved for televised horse-copulation and the nature show with crocodiles eating zebras.

("Enjoying yourself, I see." his Yami twittered, waggling a finger upwards, to where Ryou's consciousness was looming, unseen. "I never pegged you to into this sort of thing. Gay, of course, but trolls." He made a tsking sound.

("Shut up. This has got to be the wrongest thing you've ever done." The red troll (Ryou couldn't bring himself to call it Katsuya) was making the oddest sort of gurgling noise. The green troll had one arm wrapped around the leg thrown over his shoulder, and the other was on the ground, supporting his bulk. It was flexing its hips, its giant member searching for an opening. Without guidance, it was a long process, and it growled to itself as it kept missing, hitting the tight red, hairy ass. "Since when is it an animal's instincts to be gay?"

("Silly." Yami Bakura admonished. "It happens in nature all the time." He buffed his nails on his front, grinning egomaniacally, "Though I admit making a few modifications to these two."

("What do you mean?"

("Hush, I think our green friend has finally made some progress.")

Indeed he had. The Hiroto-troll had finally managed to find the place he was looking for. As he pushed, the Lava guard bellowed in pain, clenching its free leg around the other's waist, one clawed hand pushing at the green chest, the other tangled in the thick black hair. Katsuya yanked, and the Swamp guard's bellow matched his own, but still he pressed forward, his huge cock ripping and tearing as it mashed its way inwards.

Blinded by the white-hot pain, the red troll threw its head back, screeching. Hiroto pushed himself in up to his balls, pausing there a moment to growl in domination at the creature in his arms. Katsuya had his eyes squeezed tight, his grimace of pain showing rows of jagged teeth, but he had stopped struggling. The hand still tangled in his hair wiggled, grasping the horn there.

Grinding for a few moments, Hiroto finally began sliding out, making Katsuya roar once more. The friction was less than it had been going in, though. The space was just as tight, and Hiroto's cock spasmed in discomfort. But the ripping done on its way in had caused enough bleeding to lubricate the entrance slightly.

Katsuya had given up roaring, but now moaned in pain. Every now and again, Hiroto's cock would hit something inside him that made Katsuya shudder and jerk, and his own cock throbbed in pain. Hiroto grunted, feeling Katsuya relax a bit, and sped up.

With the Swamp Guard's fervent ramming, Katsuya's dick was rubbing against its taut green chest. With a final, screeching roar, the red troll came, ejaculation squirting onto Hiroto's chest-tuft and dribbling down his chest.

This only seemed to incite Hiroto more, and his grip tightened around Katsuya's leg. Growling, he shoved himself out and inwards so hard his balls began to throb. With a shuddering groan, he twitched and came inside Katsuya, his cock twitching and spurting long after he had collapsed atop the red beast.

Having trouble breathing, Katsuya pushed the swamp troll off him, causing the beast to hiss in pain. It carefully extracted its dick from Katsuya's ass, where it dripped with his own seed. Katsuya lifted his head to look at it, it's flaccid length discoloured with the blood. his blood, he could feel it dribbling out of his ass.

Katsuya suddenly felt very, very human.

He looked into Hiroto's eyes, which had regained their essence of consciousness, and the world flashed argyle again.

Chapter 2: The Second Coming

The Ring fell to the floor with a muffled tinkle as both boys lost their balance and toppled. Katsuya landed rather safely on the couch, but Hiroto missed it and took a nasty fall. Neither moved for a moment.

Finally getting his mouth to work, Katsuya summed things up nicely. "Fuck."

(Ryou was now looking up at the two boys. Apparently, his Yami had vested enough power in the false ring for it to give them a vantage point, even without one or both of the boys touching it. Y!Bakura waggled a finger in his general direction. "Of course. Now the extra fun part begins. Watch the friendship crack and die." He giggled. "What a precious, fragile, worthless thing it is."
Unable to think of anything to say, Ryou watched in silence, feeling like a mouse watching the two giant boys. No, more like a rat.)

The expletive somehow allowing him to move, Hiroto gave a curse of his own and slammed a fist to the carpet. "I'm gonna kill Bakura. Eevil or not, with or without the ring, I don't care. I'll tear him apart." Looking up, Hiroto saw fear in Katsuya's eyes. Fear and anger. He assumed he probably looked much like his friend did. Was he shaking, as well? Pulling himself to his feet, he sat on the other end of the couch. Both boys were leaning away from each other. Contact made it real.

Katsuya balled his hands on his lap. He glared down at them, and finally got them to stop trembling. It felt like the less he shook outside, the more jangled he got inside. He worked his throat for long moments, and finally was able to speak. "What... What are we going to do?" He didn't look at Hiroto.

Hiroto blinked at his friend. He'd never seen Katsuya like this. Not when Kaiba or Otogi had humiliated him, not when his Red Eyes had been stolen, not even when they had thought Yuugi was lost in the Shadow Games. He wanted to say something, do something to make everything better; though for Katsuya or himself he didn't know. But there was nothing to say. Angry again, he let out a wordless cry of frustration, burying his head in his hands. "I don't know." His voice was trembling, and he hated himself for it. "What is there TO do? We kill Bakura, melt that stupid ring to nothing, burn down 2I -"

He glanced from his ranting to see Katsuya blinking at him, his eyes partially glazed. Hiroto knew the other boy was trying desperately to fall into his mind and just not think. He was trying to do the same. But neither boy's personality would allow such weakness.

Softly, very softly. "It won't help. It won't go away."

Hiroto could think of nothing to say. He reached out a comforting hand, but the moment they brushed Katsuya's jacket, the other boy flinched, blinking furiously.

This made Hiroto angry. "Look, I'm not-"

"You're not?" Katsuya was gripped in a panic he couldn't control. "But you WERE. And you, you..."

"It WASN'T me!" Hiroto growled. "It was Bakura. He, ugh, that sick bastard." His voice softened, placating. "Jounouchi, I would never, not like that. I- I'm sorry." His voice cracking on the last word, he felt himself falling into the same dark place Jounouchi was. "I didn't mean..."

Rubbing his eyes fiercely on his sleeve, Katsuya glared hard at Hiroto, his pupils dilated but gaze seemingly clear. His voice was filled with both pleading and denial. "I can FEEL it, Honda. I can f-fucking feel it RIGHT NOW." He looked at his hand, unclenched it slowly, than flexed it. His face was pulled into a half-sob that looked almost like a grin. "I was fucking huge, Honda. And I was h-hairy, and I.. I" He broke down, then, unable to articulate anything but moans through his crying.

"Jou-Jounouchi..." Honda's throat was tight, his own resolve cracking at the truth of Katsuya's words. "We, we don't have to tell anyone. It doesn't have to be real, everything that... Oh god." The first tears leaking from Hiroto's eyes, mixed with Jounouchi's misery, seemed to uncork something inside him. He began to sob.

They held each other, then. Not as lovers, but as two young men, scared out of their wits and lost in the unknown, seeking solace in the arms of the only other who had known their ordeal. It was not a beautiful, artistic scene. It was messy, both boys sobbing until they choked, noses running and eyes puffed nearly closed. Their masculinity had never taught them how to cry gracefully. But its ignobility was by far compensated in the raw emotion shared by the two boys.

("They don't seem as if they hate each other. Just convinced that you're a horrible soul." Ryou didn't want to watch this. Somehow, seeing his friends cry seemed more invasive than watching them fuck.

("Ah, not yet, not yet." Bakura chuckled darkly, watching the two weeping boys and pacing about in excitement for what he anticipated. "When the trauma is finished, there is only one outcome: Hatred. For me, for us, who have given them pain. And each other, who shared it.

("Their most terrible, horrible secret, something they will no doubt keep from all but each other to death and beyond. Both see the other as the only weakness, the testament to his own failings."

(Watching his two friends weeping with such vehemence, Ryou couldn't keep his own voice from cracking, even in his mind, "Have you no empathy?"

(His Yami laughed in cruel glee. "Not a shred, my host. Not a shred.")

Slowly the sobs faded to silence, and the exhausted boys sat, Katsuya halfways onto Hiroto's lap. The silence was broken only by a sharp sniffle from one or the other of the boys. Once, Katsuya yawned, his jaw shuddering. He whimpered quietly, squeezing his eyes shut and taking comfort in Hiroto's shirt, intentionally not thinking.

Hiroto squeezed Katsuya's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. When the response was only a return of pressure in the arms around his chest, Hiroto pondered. His mind was fuzzy from his first real cry in years, and he still felt an abject horror at his own body for what had happened. But he knew he liked this warmth in his arms.

Very softly, Katsuya asked, "What happens now?"

Hiroto brushed Katsuya's hair with his hand. "We'll think of something."

Something in Hiroto's tone made Jounouchi look up. His face was very close to Hiroto's, and there was a look in his eye Jounouchi found faintly familiar. Acting on impulse, Hiroto pressed his lips to Katsuya's forehead, and then his lips. Katsuya twitched, but did not pull away, and after a moment returned the pressure.

(Bakura was watching his Yami watch the two boys. The spirit was slack-jawed, and Bakura thought he saw a slight twitch in his face. "This is NOT part of the plan."

Bakura smothered a laugh, but his soundless humour echoed throughout his mind.)

Leaning further into the kiss, Hiroto pushed Katsuya down, pressing him into the couch. Katsuya's neck arched as he fought the weight of the other boy. Hiroto made a bit of a moan, biting the other boy's lip, and Katsuya obliged wordlessly, leaning back, his neck still straining upwards even as his head pressed to cushions.

Hiroto was just relaxing enough to remove his hands from their grip on Katsuya's shoulders, when the blond grumbled, wiggling out from the embrace, breaking contact. Hiroto blinked, pulling away and not yet ready to comprehend rejection.

With a muttered curse, Katsuya scratched the back of his neck furiously. Blinking, both boys looked at where they had been laying.

The couch was littered with little bits of crisps. Crumbs just the right size to wiggle under shirts and iritate. Katsuya cursed again, wiping at the couch furiously, but Hiroto, after registering the reason for the other boys' abrupt attention switch, began to laugh. "I told you you were fucking messy."

"Shut up." Only now did Hiroto notice the crimson blush on Katsuya's cheeks, despite keeping his head down to hide his face. Still chuckling, but again unsure, Hiroto leaned over, pressing against Katsuya's side as he helped clean off the cushion.

The phone rang, as if intentionally interrupting their breach of status quo. Sighing, Hiroto leaned back, grabbing the phone with one hand as he scratched the back of his head with the other.

"Oi."

"I wish you'd be more polite when you answer the phone. What would your father's co-workers think?"

"Aw mum, I knew it was you." He hadn't, but he knew it was the only answer his mother would take at face value.

The woman on the other end of the line made the little motherly sigh, as all mothers are wont to do when they think their sons and daughters are really that considerate. It was a sigh of accepted delusion. "That's sweet, Hiroto-kun." There was muffled conversation as his mother covered the phone for a moment. The she was back. "Your father and I are at dinner with the Tezukas. You remember their little boy, Haru? He should be about your age now..."

"Yeah, sure, I know him." Hiroto had no idea who the woman was talking about.

"Anyways, after we're done here, your father wants to go back to the office for a bit, and Izumi-san invited me to her house for a new manicure set she bought and- Well, anyways, we'll both be home late, if at all tonight, honey. Are you all right?" [Obvious ploy to give them time alone. Mebbe reconsider. You could say something earlier about them not coming back.]

"Sure! Fine mum, I'm fine. Jounouchi's over here-" Hiroto faltered. Katsuya visiting was a near-daily thing in his life, but it suddenly seemed taboo. "Is it alright is he stays the night?"

"Don't you boys have school?"

"Oh yeah! But we're, uh, we're partnered for something, and it's due tomorrow, so we really should get it done."

His mother made a pondering sort of noise, then consented. "I guess it's alright. Katsuya's such a nice boy lately, not like before. Well, there's some instant soba in the cupboard if you boys get hungry, and I bought some ramune soda for you, it's in the fridge, so-"

"Yeah mom, we'll be fine! Look, we, uh, we should probably get to work, so, er..." Katsuya, having become bored with waiting, had nervously placed his hand on Hiroto's knee. Then, growing more bold at Hiroto's flustering, he ran his hand up and down the boy's thigh, grinning at the stutter. "So, yeah, love you mum. See you tomorrow."

With a growl, Hiroto dropped the phone and surged up, flipping Katsuya onto his back and pressing his lips against the smaller boy, who returned the favour, then pulled away, searching Hiroto's eyes. "What's the verdict?"

"We've got the house to ourselves, and you can stay the night."

"Is that such a good idea?"

Hiroto paused, leaning up a bit as he considered. "I don't know. We've done it before, but things are...different, I guess. If you don't want to, I mean, maybe we shouldn't-"

He was cut off as Katsuya initiated the kiss this time. Both sitting up, Katsuya wrapped his arms around Hiroto, tangling his hand in the small hairs at the the nape of Honda's neck. Opening his mouth for a gasp of air, Katsuya was shocked as Hiroto's tongue entered his mouth. Shocked like lighting. It was electric. Unsure, but not wanting his inexperience found out so early, he returned the favour in kind, his own tongue feeling sluggish and clumsy even as he quickly began to forget about experience and lost himself in the feelings. Relaxing totally, he allowed Hiroto to push him down without resistance.

(Unable to contain himself any longer, Ryou burst out laughing. It was priceless. His Yami glared up at him and waved a hand. Neither Hiroto nor Katsuya noticed the Ring disintegrate into dust, and neither would have probably cared if they had. They were otherwise occupied, after all.

("Stop it." Y!Bakura ordered, pacing the mindchamber and seething at his host. "It's not funny."

("On the contrary, it's hilarious. If ever there was irony in this world. Your delicately crafted plot has failed."

(With a wordless growl of anger, like a child who had bought a brand new toy only to find batteries weren't included, his Yami stalked off into the shadows, leaving Ryou feeling truly alone in the first time since he'd placed the Ring around his neck. He savoured it and leaned backwards. With a final thrill of glee at plans quashed, he drifted to sleep.)

Hiroto felt the shortness of breath, somewhere in the back of his mind, and he broke the kiss, to catch a breath and rub his face against the blonde. Katsuya was like putty in his hand. To be honest, Hiroto wasn't feeling much better. Though he'd never considered it before, having Katsuya felt so right that he couldn't understand how he'd not grabbed the boy and pressed himself against him before now. He felt the edge of something familiarly alien awaken inside him, and he gave it reign, catching Katsuya's lips again and getting lost in the sensations.

Both boys came back to themselves as, with a WHUMP, they found themselves on the floor. Hiroto's legs were still on the couch, and Katsuya looked as if he'd had a painful landing.

"Ouch.. Fuck, Honda. You pushed me off the couch."

Trying unsuccessfully to lever himself up as Katsuya tried simultaneously to wrangle out from underneath him, Hiroto pulled a face at his friend. "Not on purpose, I guess I just sort of.. forgot where we were."

"Yeah." Licking his lips, remembering the ethereal wood, Jounouchi nodded. "So did I."

Hiroto caught Katsuya's wavering eyes in his chocolate gaze. "Did you like it?"

"I.. yeah. Yeah." The latter pronounced with more bravado if not surety, Jounouchi nodded fervently, then rubbed his side. "Though that last part sucked.

"Do you wanna, well," With a softer thump, Hiroto pulled his legs off the couch and got them under him, and stood. He held out a hand to the blond, still working his mouth around the words he was trying to say. "D'you wanna go to the room, then?"

Knowing full well what it meant to take the proffered hand, Katsuya though for long moments, moments that seemed even longer for Hiroto. As he was about to snatch his hand away and say something blithe, Katsuya took it and pulled himself to his feet. Both boys' hands were cold, clammy, and shaking, but neither noticed the other, too nervous with fear and anticipation for what they knew would happen tonight.

Hiroto slid the door to his bedroom open, flicking the lightswitch and kicking clothes out of the way as he went. His house was modern but built to emulate the ancient design. The walls were thick plaster, painted an off-white, and the floor was a mosaic of rushstraw tamami mats, each bordered in a deep blue trim. Grabbing the thick, blue-and-green patterned quilts from a wallcloset, he lay the blankets next to each other, instead of on opposite walls as per usual. Katsuya stood looking awkward, not sure what to do or say. Hiroto glanced up at him as he straightened the blankets, then stood, striding past the shorter boy.

Hiroto closed the door and flicked the switch again, casting the room into darkness. Katsuya barely contained a yelp of surprise, and stood there shaking until he heard a bump, a curse, and the lamp flicked on, lending the room a soft glow in all but the tokoma and farthest corners. Looking out the window, Katsuya felt the same soft pang of jealousy he always did when he stayed at Hiroto's. He didn't covet the other boy's things, but rather wanted to share them. With a shock, he realized he was about to. At the same time he felt an electric touch at the small of his back, and then arms encircled him. Hiroto rumbled behind Katsuya, nipping his ear.

"Is it really okay?" Katsuya asked, leaning backwards and running his hand down Hiroto's forearm.

Hiroto murmured, resting his chin in the hollow of Katsuya's neck. "Only if you're alright with it." He kissed Katsuya's collarbone, and slowly pulled the green blazer from his shoulders.

Katsuya turned, and they were in each other's arms, pressed so close Hiroto felt a blaze of fire all down the length of him. He reached his hand up under Katsuya's shirt, feeling the flesh of him, the slight bumps of his ribs, the hollow of his shoulderblade. Katsuya tugged at Hiroto's shirt, untucking it blindly as he kissed Hiroto's face.

Hiroto reluctantly broke the contact. He tugged Katsuya's shirt, pulling it over his head when Katsuya finally relinquished his contact with Hiroto's hips. Dropping the shirt unceremoniously to the floor, he did the same with his own.

Letting out a soft gasp at the sudden air on his skin, Katsuya watched Hiroto. He had seen the other boy shirtless, hell, he'd even seen him naked numerous times. But this was different. Hiroto was tall, but muscular. Every bit of him was lithe and corded, and beautiful. Hiroto was... pointy. Resisting the urge to grin at his own mental picture, Katsuya just watched Hiroto watching him.

It was Katsuya's turn to initiate contact, as much as he wanted to be swept away by his best friend. Hiroto stood, unsure of what to do with his hands, his eyes never leaving Katsuya, though they trailed momentarily up and down the blond. Katsuya, feeling a thrill at being studied, put his hands back on Hiroto's sides. The hot flesh tingled under his fingers, and he kissed Hiroto fiercely. Moaning with relief and passion, Hiroto snaked his arms around Jounouchi.

They were on the sheets now, though neither boy could remember just how they had gone horizontal. Katsuya was on the top, part of his mind self-conscious at crushing the boy beneath him while the rest was busy kissing him. Eyes closed, they explored each other's faces, kissing everything their lips came in contact with.

Katsuya had slipped his hand into Hiroto's pants, resting his hand on his hipbone, his other arm supporting him as he explored Hiroto's jaw and collarbone. Hiroto craned his neck, breath shortening while he gave Katsuya's ear some much desired attention. His hands were alternately rubbing Katsuya's back, or making trails up and down his spine. Barely touching Katsuya's flesh, Hiroto made his brain tingle with the sensation.

Katsuya pulled back, catching his breath and his bearings for a moment. Hiroto watched him, saying nothing but smiling in his ineffable way. He held Katsuya's chest, rubbing his thumbs lightly over his nipples. Already pert, they became hard as pebbles under his ministrations.

Squirming lightly from the sensation, Katsuya chuckled. "I'm not a girl, you know..."

Honda quirked a brow, glancing demurely at Katsuya's trousers, "I didn't think so." He grinned, rubbing a but hard for a second, "Just doing everything I want to do to Shizuka-san."

Growling half in jest, Katsuya bit Hiroto's neck, kneading his thigh with a thumb. Two could play at this game, after all. Licking the hollow of Hiroto's neck and eliciting the sought-after moan, Jounouchi moved to Hiroto's chest. The brunette had returned his attentions to Katsuya's back. His hands played at the waist of his jeans, tickling just under the band.

The course hair on Hiroto's chest ticked Jounouchi's nose, but dutifully he searched. He could barely see anything in the dark of the room, but he felt the nubbin he was looking for and licked it. Hiroto's hands froze.

Grinning, Katsuya took the nipple very lightly in his teeth, tugging it as he squeezed Hiroto's hip. A sharp intake of breath above him told him what he wanted to know, and he continued for a moment, than moved to the other nipple. His hand caressed the already hardened nipple as his did so. Recovering himself slightly, Hiroto kissed the top of Katsuya's head, than leaned back and enjoyed himself. His hands teased Jounouchi's arse, though lightly. Grunting at the constricted movement of the jean, Hiroto played his hands down the waistband. Katsuya, forced to pull back with Hiroto's arms in the way, half froze as he felt the boy tugging at his fly.

Blindly Hiroto unzipped Katsuya's jeans, tugging them down as far as his restricted mobility would allow. Getting the hint, Katsuya tugged them and his briefs down to his knees, unwilling just yet to give up his position atop the pointed one. Hiroto took he moment to unclasp his own slacks, though he didn't remove them. The slight slackening of pleasure was a relief.

Katsuya was perched on him, with no pants, grinning like a maniac. Hesitantly, Hiroto reached out, barely brushing the shaft. Amusement gone, Katsuya hissed, pulling back instinctively. Chuckling, Hiroto leaned forward, pushing Katsuya to his back and pulling his trousers off the rest of the way. They joined his jacket and shirt somewhere in one of the lonely unlusty corners.

Katsuya moaned into Hiroto's mouth, biting his lip and pushing his chest as he pulled away. He glared at the confused look. "It's not fair for only me to be bare-ass naked, you know."

Hiroto laughed, slipping his pants off and tossing them away. Kissing Katsuya, he was again pushed away. At another look from Katsuya, he took off his boxers as well.

They were both wearing their socks. This is only important if you've ever had sex with your socks on.

They spent a few long, leisurely moments exploring each other's bodies. Kissing, nibbling, and licking, Katsuya felt his insides tremble and tighten, and forced himself mentally to relax. He didn't want it to end, ever. Warmth and cold danced over his body maddeningly, as spit dried and flesh pressed against him.

Hiroto was kissing the taut, pale belly of the other boy. With his nose and lips, he followed the line of soft hair's that started below the belly button. The urge to surprise Katsuya won out over humour, and he kept the "treasure trail" comment to himself. After a split-second hesitation of question if he really wanted -that- in his mouth, he took Katsuya in, and was rewarded with another sharp hiss.

Katsuya, though half-expecting something, wasn't prepared for the blast of sensation he got when Hiroto took him in. Warmth, wetness, and pleasure burned through him, his manhood jerking involuntarily. Moaning, teeth clenched, he leaned his head back, lost.

Hiroto was also lost in his own sense, but curiosity was winning over lust for the moment. He knew what he liked, and at that moment wanted nothing more than to see how far he could take it. Licking lightly at the slit of Katsuya's manhood, he took the boy's shuddering as a good sign. It wasn't nearly so terrible as he'd thought, just another thing to explore. Dragging his teeth lightly over the head, he took the nub into his mouth, rolling his lips around the shaft, shifting the skin and comparing it to an elbow in his mind's eye.

Katsuya hissed again, bunching his fists and shutting his eyes tight as he fell into oblivion.

Hiroto registered the spasm a split-second too late, and choked at the come in his windpipe. Pulling back to cough, he got some on his face as well, and cursed Katsuya, who was too busy seeing stars to pay attention. Katsuya's manhood, quickly going soft, twitched now and again as it sank.

Coming back to himself, Katsuya saw Hiroto coughing and wiping his mouth on the corner of the quilt. Seeing the blond looking at him, Hiroto glared. "You bastard. Warn me next time you're going to do that."

Half-ashamed but still caught up in his moment, Jounouchi glared back. "Aren't you supposed to swallow it?"

Hiroto pulled a face. "Hell no. Well, not today at least. He rubbed his tongue on the blanket and pulled another face. "Swallow, maybe, but that almost killed me."

Unable to help himself, Jounouchi laughed, leaning back again and enjoying the quiet shocks he was still getting. Hiroto was running his fingers up Jounouchi's thighs, but he barely paid any attention.

He did pay attention, however, when Hiroto kissed him, his hands tangling in the hairs at the base of Jounouchi's manhood. For long minutes, Hiroto kissed Jounouchi, massaged his thighs, coaxed his manhood from it's flaccidity. Katsuya was struck with the realization that Hiroto had not had any release, and began paying more attention, allowed himself to get worked up again. He began returning the kisses more fervently, and Hiroto responded with a happy, unintelligible murmur.

When Katsuya was teetering close to the brink again, Hiroto broke the contact and leaned far sideways, scrounging for something in the wall closet. Katsuya closed his eyes and listened, smirking at the curses Hiroto made.

With a soft "a-hah!" Hiroto leaned back, straddling Jounouchi's thighs. He had a small bottle in one hand and a foil package in his mouth.

Katsuya couldn't help but laugh. "You're prepared, man. But what the fuck IS that stuff?" he pointed with his chin at the bottle, squinting at the decorated Kanji in the dark. "Lovelove oil?"

Hiroto waggled the bottle, but Katsuya could just see the blush on his face. "You know, for Shizuka. Or maybe Anzu. Or both." He waggled his eyebrows.

Katsuya smacked his thigh, laughing. "You little kink!" but he couldn't quite hide the tremble in his voice. This was really going to happen.

Lapsing into silence, Hiroto bent to his work. Katsuya heard the rip of foil and the chemical rubber smell pervaded his noise. He leaned back and breathed it deeply. It wasn't a nice smell, but it foreshadowed what was coming. A thought struck him, and he looked up. Hiroto was dribbling some of the oil into the condom, and was putting it on in an entirely too practiced way. "Do we really need those? You don't have AIDS or anything." This last half a question.

"Don't you read the pamphlets?" Hiroto's voice was incredulous.

At Katsuya's blank look, he sighed and grinned. "Maybe I just don't want your shit on my cock."

Katsuya's eyes had widened, but before that train of thought had gotten too far, Hiroto had finished he business and leaned over, turning the bottle upside-down and into his hands. He squirted a bit on Katsuya's stomach and chest, just for good measure.

Leaning forward, Hiroto began rubbing Katsuya's thighs, eliciting a moan. Katsuya spread his legs, urging Hiroto closer to his manhood.

Trailing a nail delicately over Katsuya's balls, Hiroto moved to his real target. He had a breif moment of fear. The pamphlets always told you what not to do, but they were vague on the actual acts themselves. Figuring he would wing it, and reluctantly calling upon the memory of his only experience, he rubbed and massaged the puckered opening he found, which tightened briefly under his ministrations.

Feeling some new, entirely alien sensation, Katsuya trembled. It was electric, feeling someone touching his most taboo place. Breathing, accepting the screaming feelings his body was barraging him with, he forced himself to relax. He wanted this.

At the feeling of something else on his entrance, he tightened against his will. Maybe he wasn't ready for this. Imagery began floating through his mind, and despite himself he remembered the feeling of blood trickling down his leg, of being dominated, of nothing but pain and hurting.

Noticing Katsuya tremble beneath him, Hiroto groaned inwardly, but took his hand from his throbbing erection. He leaned back, rubbing the blond's legs and placing them around his waist. He massaged first the boy's feet through his socks, than worked his way upward. Slowly, Katsuya's trembling ceased, and he began to return the affections. When, rubbing his chest, Hiroto leaned forward to kiss him, their erections touched, and both boys paused in pleasure.

Still tingling from Hiroto's attentions, Katsuya felt a second time the alien thing probing at his entrance. But he was ready and willing this time, relaxed and wanting. He put his hands on Hiroto's shoulders, squeezing them lightly. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to be penetrated, tensing only once but relaxing when Hiroto coaxed his erection back to glory.

There was no other way to describe it than "full." Part of him wanted to push this invading presence, coming in instead of out of him. But than, as Hiroto relaxed his hips, he touched something inside of Katsuya that made him blind for a moment. Leaning ever forwards, Hiroto took Katsuya's hands from his shoulders, clasping them in his and pressing them to the floor, his hips rocking slowly, unsteadily.

Katsuya strained his neck upwards, kissing Hiroto clumsily as he near squirmed with pleasure at the alien feelings. At that moment, he felt more connected to the world than ever before. This glorious thing, it was what it meant to be alive.

Unbidden, his memory fed him images of the other end of this beauty. What it was like to be taken without offering. Horrible as it was, in the throes of this simple, natural magic, Katsuya was unafraid, and the imagery ceased.

Hiroto groaned, his back arching as his hips began to rock more forcefully. Katsuya pulled a hand free from its prison, and began stroking his own manhood, Hiroto's pleasure coupled with his own sensations driving him wild. He felt a twitch at his opening, and Hiroto shuddered, slamming unevenly as he spasmed.

It was rapture.

Hiroto pulled back and fell beside his friend, mouth hanging open and eyelids flittering while his world was grey. Katsuya rubbed his own manhood, bringing himself over the brink in a matter of moments.

They both lay, enjoying the aftershocks and the soft smell of their sins. Feeling something invasive, Katsuya pulled the offender from his entrance, pulling a face at it momentarily before hiding it under the sleeping Hiroto's slacks. He wiped his hand and stomach and the slacks for good measure, and rolled over, drifting to sleep in tired bliss.

A noise in the night woke Katsuya. The soft shuffles and clicks of someone returning. Mutters as Mr, Honda made his way up the stairs, and into his bedroom. A sigh at the empty bed, thumps and splashes of preperation, and finally the futon's creak of welcome for the tired businessman.

Katsuya blinked blearily, gathering his surroundings. Turning over, he saw Hiroto, wide awake and staring at the ceiling. A gleaming trail of wetness ran down the side of his face and into his ear, pooling there. Hiroto was silent, and didn't move, but that in itself belied just how much he hurt. Wordlessly, afraid to break the spell, Katsuya reached over, trailing his fingers over Hiroto's arm. Hiroto jumped, glancing over. Then he turned, pulling his arm away to support his head. He had the ghost of a smile on his face as he watched Katsuya, but the tears didn't cease.

Finally, Hiroto broke the silence. "What are we going to do?"

Long into the night, the two boys talked. When it came time for them to finally breach the topic they were both afraid of, it came in halting confessions and choked phrases. Eventually, the two drifted into silence, than sleep. They were comforted both in the arms around them and the weight lifted off their chests.

~

"There's something different today..." Yuugi felt the voice in the back of his mind. He half turned, glancing a shade of his Yami trailing him through the hall.

"You feel it too?" He smiled, looking ahead now at Hiroto and Katsuya. "I'm not sure what's happened, but it's good." There was something there between the two boys, a feeling, a *sparkle*. Not that it had been lacking before, but it had grown, been realized.

He felt the Pharoah's emotion through the link, pride in his host's growing awareness, but also shaded with unease. "They seem happy now, but there's a darkness there, as well."

"Whatever it is, they'll tell us soon." It didn't take Egyptian magic to see that Katsuya was near-bursting with news. "And if they don't it's their business."

His Yami assented. "Whatever it was, it seems they've overcome it. Now come on, class will start soon." Yuugi felt the presence retreat to barely more than a glimmer of awareness. Always watching, his protector. Adjusting his hold on his knapsack, Yuugi went to class.

Back in his "window room," Ryou was still in a good mood. His Yami was still upset over his backfired plans, and was having trouble keeping up the "lovable fluff-head" facade. Ryou allowed himself a moment of regret, that his Yami had been in control so long his friends had a jaded and extreme veiw of his personality. Only a moment, though, as he couldn't allow himself to lose hope. And besides, it was such a good day.

"Your overwhelming cheer is giving me a headache," his Yami growled. In response, Bakura whistled a merry little tune.

It was a testament to Katsuya's resolve that he didn't blurt it all out the second he saw Yuugi that morning. It was a testament to Hiroto's patience that he kept Katsuya reigned in, punching him in the arm whenever the boy opened his mouth to ruin the surprise. It was a testament to Yami Bakura's control that he didn't kill someone. Two someones, to be precise.

The group sat comfortably in Yuugi's living room. Mrs. Mutou puttered around the kitchen, while his Grandfather was still busy in the shop. There were a few hours left until closing, after all. Hiroto had snatched the poofy laz-e-boy, Anzu was on one end of the couch, Bakura perched rather sulkily on the other end. Yuugi was sunk cross-legged into another of the fat recliners, making him seem even smaller than he was.

Currently, the group was caught in surprised silence. It took a few long moments for what Katsuya had said to sink in.

Yuugi was the first to speak, "That's great!"

Anzu nodded, "You two are perfect for each other. I always knew Honda-kun was after Jounouchi, I just didn't guess which one." She laughed a little self-consciously.

Bakura said nothing.

"Well, it was really Bakura's fault." Hiroto grinned, watching the silver-haired boy. His bravado didn't quite sneak past Katsuya, who touched his head briefly.

Anzu blinked, and Bakura barely bristled, "Me? What do you mean?" He blinked innocently, even as the real Bakura howled inside his mind.

Katsuya laughed, "Oh, you know, this and that. You're a big part of it, though."

There was another moment of silence, this time rather comfortable. Yuugi, who had been musing as to the reason for the change all day, silently conceeded to his bet with the Pharoah. It looked like he'd be wearing those leather pants on Sunday, after all.

Anzu made a disgruntled sort of noise, and all eyes turned to her. She blushed, "Shouldn't you two, well, be holding hands or something?"

They blinked. Katsuya deftly avoided the point as Hiroto leaned back to look at him. "Why would we do that?"

"Well," Anzu pulled a face, trying to word it correctly, "It's, like, I don't know. I always thought people held hands when they made confessions like this. You know... to be close."

Haltingly, Katsuya extended a hand, Hiroto took it, and immediately pulled away and wiped his hands on his trousers, "Euch, sweaty!"

Katsuya chuckled, and gave Anzu a grin, "Besides, I've had his cock in my ass, isn't that sharing?"

Yuugi fell off the chair.

Mrs. Moutou's head peeked into the room, taking in her son's lack of balance with nary a twitch, "Are your friends staying for dinner, Yuugi?"

Jounouchi was trying not to laugh, and Yuugi asked, "If it's alright." At his mum's nod, he asked, "What're we having?"

Already in the kitchen, she reached out and waggled a package at them from the doorway. "Beef Noodle."

I'm going to hell. w00t~!

Sleep deprived 3.00am ramblings.

2004-04-17T19:44:32Z

It's not just some lazy fucker sitting there. No cuntsack devoid of rhyme and reason, he. Prostrate, prostate. Stomach, back, dick balls kwa.

Fecundity. Open your legs and enter the dragon. Hate the sinner love the sin. Addiction's proclamation of the nation's masturbation. Politicians jerking off on public good. Civil rights drowned in the come of bureaucracy. No lazy fucker, he. No lost soul glued by his own sweat to the chair beneath him, sticking him like a cracked-out mugger to a mundane life of sloth instead of shuffling off this mortal coil like a good little useless bastard. Ego. Superego. Id. The holy trinity of nice words that mean you're fucked up. Society. The ever-indulgent scapegoat of people unwilling to reap what they sow. Bestial sluts reveling in a twisting tantric terror-induced waltz of moral obligation-dodging. Baaaaaah!

Shift. One leg on top of the other. Left on right. Sneakers, keds loafers. Not some lazy fucker, he. Not trapped by the televised bullshit screaming from every channel of that godawful box, a deafening cacophony of acted screams and real tears so similar you'll laugh at it all. Not tricked like the willing masses into believing it's objective, yet it's run by the same corporate clones and head CEOs, every president a lead shareholder in the competition. People unwilling and unable to accept they're holding their own leash, trapped by their own fear of anything real.

He knows, and does nothing.

What a lazy fucker.

Lesbians!

2003-09-14T08:44:49Z

Brain-babble. Mai/Anzu Drunken Apartment Sex PWP. Because it assuages my temptations. XD

Can't remember how to cut tag atm because am drunk. haha.

"Sambuka." Mai gave the bottle a shake, "Licorice necter of death and salvation."

Anzu took it when proffered, recoiled when she sniffen, "It burns!"

"Of course it does." Mai scoffed, brandishing two shot glasses and doffing some of the clear drink in each. One shot glass had the logo of a cruise line on it, the other was an advert for something called "Lovelove oil" that Anzu was fairly certain she'd seen somewhere before.

"Now, here's the trick with Sambuka." Pulling a lighter from her corset, she gave Anzu a wry glance. "You gotta light it on FIRE." Nodding, she bent to do so. Anzu watched, amazed how the older woman could make even drunken motions fluid. It must have to do with maturity, she thought... Or maybe she was used to being a little dizzy, what with all her organ-constricting fashion... The train of through was cut off when her eye caught the pale blue flames dancing on the glasses.

"It looks like the discovery channel..." Anzu muttered, taking the LoveLove glass and just watching, inexperiencedly surprised that her fingers weren't burning where they held it.

"You gotta drink it fast before all the liquor's gone. 3-2-1 Go!" And they drank, after a preemtory squeal of, "Blow the fire out first!"

Five shots of teh 'buuuuuuuka later...

Yay sex! Mai boobies mai boobies...

Anzu fumble with the ties, her hands not wanting to do what she told them, mostly because her brain could understand how the simple knots worked right know. Grumbling to herself, she leaned upward, using her teeth to tug on an offending string.

The corset fell loose and Mai's breasts nearly avalanched out, so constrained by the corset. Angry red lines c from the seam crossed the flesh of them, and the inside halfs of her nipples were rubbed almost raw. Anzu looked up, meeting Mai's half-lidded gaze with an incredulous one. "That can't be comfortable."

"It's not. But it's sexy." Mai leaned down, her hair tickling Anzu's face. "But you get used to it."

In a drunken blond tent, Anzu had sudden misgivings about what she was doing.

But then she realized sex was great! So her and Mai played boobie games and fingered each other until the cleaning lady told them Check-out time was in ten minutes. But they had a time to have a little threesome action before leaving the motel. =D

jacqfic @ 2003-08-04T20:56:00

2003-08-05T02:58:25Z

Revised and made a bit more coherent than the first blathering a few weeks ago.

Rated NC-17 for sex. But not happy sex. This is not a happy peice.

Original fic, nameless OCs, STDs, and het.

The room had mood lighting in the sense that places unable to afford electricity have mood lighting. Which meant the walls were a deep red, and the glow from the numerous candles and sputtering lamps not much brighter, giving everything a dusty, inexpensive cast.

A clock that didn't tick stood on the nightstand, beside a lamp with an oily flame. The moths beating themselves to death against its glass cover kept time, though not in any recognizable sense.

Both were in their underthings, though neither of them had any of the common embarassment of near-nudity. The woman, posed photographically on top of the bed, the man standing spreadeagled by the door, hands clasped behind him.

Turning her head in just a way as to be calculatedly quizzical, the woman pursed lips so full of collagen they should have burst. But the only slime coming out of her were her words. "I've been waiting," she says, adjusting her position to lay full on her back. Her hand must have gotten tired holding her empty fake head aloft. She's been waiting, but not for any suitor of john or anything with a dick to walk in that door. She's been waiting for a way to be truly beautiful, a way out of the life she lives and a way to just fucking stop with all this nonsense, but she's either too stupid or too smart to worry about it much. One would assume the first.

"I would like to see your breasts." he replies. Though his skin is white-bordering-on-chalkey even in the dim light, he speaks with the soft tone and razor-sharp enunciation usually heard only in those of native descent. He carries himself like a man whose land was stolen; who had the world, and had it taken away, but is only made stronger. He is proud even in his ridiculous white breifs, his erection non-too-hidden by immpeccably clean underpants.

Winking saucily at the man with an eyelid more makeup than skin, she obligingly sits up, undoing the clasp of her bra with seductive deftness. As she pulls it away, rubbing the silky cloth on her paunched belly before dropping it to the floor, her tits are free. Perfect within the snug fit of her brazier, they now hang limply, huge and uneven. Crisscrosses of sickly pink, half-healed scars run the base of each breast, the silicone warring with natural fats, giving her a lumpy mashed potatos look.

His breifs become tighter, and he swallows, watching her with a rapt concentration. One hand moves from behind his back, and he strokes himself through the frabric. She realizes he has his other hand in his ass, and is not surprised.

Leaning back and sideways, she pulls off the stitch of fabric covering her that no one in their right mind would call underwear. Sliding it down her leg and up the front of her body, over the bubble of fat in her stomach that might be a baby and might be a tumour, she brings the garment to her face, inhaling deeply while she smiles at this man whose name she doesn't even know. She's always hated this part, this wallowing in her own stink. She has an infection and her panties are think with it.

Moaning almost impreceptably, the man continues to stroke himself, watching her with eyes that are desperately trying to forget it's an act. He licks his lips, focusing on her malformed breasts, her pregnant paunch, and her imperfect bush, an accident with the razor forming her hair into a misshapen heart. The shaved parts are a spiky tangle of ingrown hairs, red and swollon and visible even to him because she is terrified to wax. But he doesn't know that, and he doesn't want to know that.

"Hey now," she says, pushing a piece of unnaturally-red hair behind her ear as she smiles coaxingly, her butchered lips unable to stretch enough around her malformed teeth enough to give the illusion of sincerity. "It's not just a show, there's audience participation."

She watches him remove his underwear with practiced anticipation and awe, though her eyes are scrutinising, looking for signs of deseases she doesn't know the names of but knows well enough the consequences. Malformed warts are scattered across his shaft and balls, and she suppresses a wince.

A moth finds its way into the flue of the lantern, and the sputtering light and sound of a firey death end the time for looking.

He steps forward, close enough to touch but not even raising a hand. "What is your name?"

"Jennifer" she replies. They are all named Jennifer. It is a good, sexy, comepletely anonymous name. Her real name isn't something she wants spoken within this cushioned cage. Some night, very late, after all the johns are gone and the only noises are dying bugs and moans of those with fire between thier legs, she whispers her name, just so it will not be forgotten. Only in the sanctity of lonliness does she acknowledge herself.

She loops her arms behind his neck and pulls him down onto her lice-infested bed, wrapping her legs around his waist and forcing his lumpy dick into herself.

He pushes himself deep to the balls, and goes about his business, ignoring her feign of pleasure and just watching the movement of her breasts. He is enraptured by the scars and complete homeliness of something that looks so beautiful when wrapped in an underwired costume.

He has fucked every woman in this building, and they are all named Jennifer, and that is good.

jacqfic @ 2003-08-03T17:47:00

2003-08-03T23:51:50Z

Alriiiiiiight, fiddle slighty with options, even though I don't really care. X3

User icons are thus:
http://www.livejournal.com/allpics.bml?user=jacqfic

All are very very old icons that I forgot about for a really long time and am reusing now. The icon's correspond to what sort of writery business will be in the post. There's only three, so it's not that hard.
~

Now, first fictioney thing. Nazareth is a muse and an RP character that's been residing in my head for years and years. He's a Bad Guy. Yep. He has sex with things. Sex sex sex.
It's also one of his old RP icons that's posting as a smutpic for the journal. yay.

Flesh slapped flesh in the lonely backroom of the bath house. The lights were off, the bright strobe and pounding music igniting the two in a series of feral, sweaty still lifes, the base line pounding around the two like an impossible heartbeat.

Hair in dissaray, the man on top hisses quietly, pounding into his catch with a glint in his eye and a demure smile. The face he is watching has it's eyes closed, clenching his teeth as he jitters in ecstacy. His labre spike glints n the flashing light, and he feels himself pulled up and away, beyond life. His vision narrows to hold only the long-haired god atop him, in him.

Drawing himself up, corded muscles rippling within him like a leopard, Nazareth grins a pretedtors grin. Beneath him is one of the special ones. This he knows now, though he could detect it before. Anthony was a virgin in every sense of the word, recently discovering his preference late in life and spending the last few nights prowling the bars, making up for his lack of experience by putting holes in his face. It has been a long night, but Nazareth delighted in every second of it. From the first curt nod, to the shy smile, brushed hand, and up into this sweat, two-backed beastial creation, he rejoices, drawing power from and into his catch. It has been a long time since he's had one who would be Marked, and he wallows anew in his luck.

Slowly, jaggedly in the photographic light, his aspect changes from human to something not-quite. Like living quicksilver, the beast that is Nazareth returns to his true form, lathering in anticipation. A clawed hand reached down to caress Anthony's sex, barely scraping it and driving the young man ever-faster towards the edge.

A familiar tightening around his own manhood, and the beast nearly screeches in glee. Anthony's eyes shoot open, and in that moment of bliss he is thrown into fear andd living nightmare. He opens his mouth to scream, but a rippling of magic keeps him silent.

Pulling himself out, Nazareth grins widely, mouth stretching so far by all rights the top of his head should have toppled off. Lightinging quick, in the breif moment of darkness between light, he digs a claw deep, dragging it along the other man's length, his other hand slashes, opening thee identical slashes in the paunch beneath his belly button.

Still unable to move, tears leek out the edges of Anthony's eyes as his world is thrown into white-hot hell. The question in his eyes is being quickly replaced by glazed-over fear.

Stepping back and above him, Nazareth strokes himself, and releases upon the wounds, making them sizzle as they heal and scar. Simply, in his silk-on-water bass, he addresses his catch. "You are mine" he says simply, cruelly.

And then he is gone.
~

Steam rising from his still hot body, Nazareth saunters across a rooftop. A shake of his head, and the sex-mussed hair falls perfectly into place, clothing fluttering around him and shading his nude body from the San Francisco night.

"You're so dramatic." a voice tittered, "Even when you're alone."

"Hush, Aeryll." Nazareth chuckled as the familiar eight settled on his shoulder. Aeryll was of the fey, and he folded his wings back as he perched. Naked and unashamed, the blue-haired sprite had the perfectly developed body of a young man, save he stood no taller than eight inches.

Holding Nazareth's ear for balance, the fey pulled a face as he scanned the lights sweeping away across the city. "You positively reek of power tonight. It must've been good."

Nazareth made an affirmative noise, his attention focused on something below. "A virgin. Male. Very good tonight."

Noticing his master's distraction, Aeryll turned his attention to the streets. There, in an alley not far from the redlight district Nazareth had just left. A man hunched over something as-yet indescernable, and Aeryll watched intently.

It was a young boy, no older than eight years old, and he didn't seem too happy.

"Shh, it's okay..." the man whispered. His name was Angelo, and he was a banker. He always introduced himself with 'Hello, my name is Angelo, and I'm a banker.' "My name is Angelo, and I'm a banker. Your mum told me she'd be here soon. She's very worried about you, you know."

The little boy blinked up at the pudgy man with crinkly eyes. "My name's Thomas." the boy said. Daddy had crinkly eyes, and so did daddy. Thomas liked this man, but he was afraid anyways. "I didn't mean to. I thought I was followwing mummy. But than I looked up and it was just a lady with the same legs as mummy... I hope she's not angry."

The man put a pudgy, sweaty hand on Thomas' shoulder and squeezed it. He wishes they wouldn't say their names, but it couldn't be helped. "I don't think she'll be angry, Thomas. She loves you." The man's other hand went around Thomas' back, two meaty fingers stuffing themselves into the elastic at the back of his pants. "Hey, do you want to play a game while we wait for mummy?"

Aeryll whistled, rocking backwards and toppling from Nazareth's shoulder when the incubis straightened suddenly. Catching himself, the fey flittered up to swoop around his master's head, ready with a quip for the lack of warning.

It died in his through when he saw the look on Nazareth's face.

"There are a few things." the silver-haired man said carefully, regaining his posture and glaring demurely down at the alleyway. "There are a few things that really make me angry."

"What are you going to do?"

"Stay out of sight, Aeryll. I'm going to take care of this business."

Flitting around Nazareth's head, the faery dissapeared, his question still lingering in the air.

"It's going to be a long night." Nazareth said to the air around him, and dissapeared himself.
~

Always, ALWAYS, comments, flame, crits, brutal ripping apart of my self-esteem for the case of writerish development is overjoyously welcome.

Mindless praise is also appreciated. ^.~

Wooooo

2003-08-03T23:27:38Z

Hey look! It's a journal for all my creativey waffle.

Yey.