Angels in the Knight, Part 3

Bakura was in heaven. This man tasted wonderful and innocent to him, better than anything he had ever tasted before. Touching his tongue to him, he felt the other relax and yield to him. Bakura sighed and rubbed his body against this man, letting him know full well what he was doing to him. The arousal in his pants grew every second they remained like this. Bakura delved deeper into the other man’s mouth, his free hand roaming easily across his body, fingers worming their way through the buttons of the black shirt. His body was begging for release, as was the other’s. He thought it to be his duty to satisfy them both. Releasing his lips, Bakura began to kiss and lick the man’s neck, loving it every second.

Malik subconsciously leaned his head back, allowing the man more access to his neck. These feelings and emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He knew that he should stop the man, but the moans emitting from his own lips encouraged his kisser even more. Leaning his head against the brick wall, Malik looked up with lazy eyes and lighting flashed angrily across the sky. He flinched and then pushed the other man away. He stared at the other youth, breathing heavily and longing filled him as he stared into those hot eyes.

“No,” Malik whispered, “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Bakura laughed as he took a cautious step forward, “Are you attached to someone else?”

Malik thought about it for a moment, trying to think, but passion was clouding his judgment and his hesitation gave Bakura more time to come closer again.

“Well are you?” Malik looked up into Bakura’s crystal blue eyes, now hooded with desire.

“I-in a way, I am.”

“So you are not then because that kind of question deserves a yes or no answer.”

“But He will be furious with me if He finds out I wasn’t doing my duty.”

“Your duty? What does that mean?”

“It…”

But whatever ‘it’ was Bakura never got to find out because there came from the shadows a cackling noise that made the hair on one’s neck stand on end. Bakura snarled, startling the other man.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“You mustn’t say such things!” gasped the other.

Bakura ignored the young man, staring at the shadows. If his brother daemons found him here with this innocent man, then they would rip him from his arms, ravish him and leave him for dead. He had seen it happen countless times before. Grabbing his hand, Bakura pulled him away from the wall and began to race down the streets.

“What are you…!? Where are we going!?” cried Malik. Looking over his shoulder Bakura responded.

“Listen! If you want to live, then don’t ask questions and just trust me. I know we just met, but don’t stop running until I say so!”

Malik nodded his head and suddenly heard other footsteps chasing after them. He closed his eyes and ran faster, tightening his hold on the other’s hand. He followed him blindly, being pulled, dragged and zigzagged through alley ways, all the while feeling as if his heart would explode in his chest. He was suddenly led into a building, down a hallway and into an apartment. Malik blinked as the light went on. ‘Is this where he lives?’

The room was plain; cream colored walls with Japanese scrolls adorned the four walls. Lamps with black shades dimmed the lighting, giving off a candle-lit glow. There was a couch in the far corner; a four poster bed with a crimson canopy and curtains was against the eastern wall and a wooden floor with a Chinese dragon carpet beneath his feet. Malik thought the apartment looked cozy. He turned to the Western wall and paled. Hung up in neat rows were various swords, daggers, spears and other weaponry. ‘Oh my goodness.’

“Sorry about that.”

“Huh?”

“About suddenly kissing you and then having you run to save your life…”

“Oh it was nothing! I’ve…I’ve never experienced something like that before. It was thrilling!”

“Thrilling? We kissed and then just before we got to the good part, we start getting chased by cutthroats and you think it’s thrilling?” Bakura just looked at the man, who now has his head hung in shame, his hands folded before him, clasping each other tightly. He sighed. Realizing he hurt the other man’s feelings, he got up from his seat and went over to him, tilting his chin up. The beating of his heart intensified when he looked into those big amethyst eyes.

“I didn’t mean to sound like I was scolding you…umm, what is your name?”

“My name is Malik,” Malik answered.

“Malik. Malik, I like that name,” Bakura replied. “It sounds…exotic.”

“What about you? What is your name?”

“Bakura.”

Malik smiled. He liked that name very much, and it could also be shortened to sound cuter than it already was. Gazing up into those blue-crystal orbs, Malik felt his pulse quicken. It was the same feelings as before. Feelings of comfort, safety and…something else. He reached up, threading his fingers through the startling white hair.

“I like your name, Kura. I also like your hair, it is so soft.”

“Kura? Why Kura?”

“Cause it sounds cuter.”

Bakura raised an eyebrow and stepped away from Malik, clearing his throat, trying to calm down. ‘I just met the guy! I can’t go and shag him just like that. There is something different about this one.’ Walking over to the mini bar, Bakura pulled out a couple of glasses and fixed a strong Jack Daniels on the rocks for himself. Turing to Malik, he showed the empty glass.

“Do you want to drink anything?” Malik looked at the glass that Bakura held and smiled.

“Just water please or milk if you have any.”

“Uh…I’ll get you some water then.”

Walking into the kitchen, Bakura let the sink run for a little bit to make sure the water was cold. As he watched the falling water before him, the splashing noise filling his ears, a sudden thought floated across his brain like a summer breeze. Only Angels can have milk or water. Angels are unable to consume anything that was once alive…to do so would be blasphemous. He shook his head violently as he filled the glass. There was no way this guy was an angel. An angel would never allow themselves to be touched like that. He put the thought aside as he walked back into his living room. He stopped short when he saw Malik curled up in the corner of his black velvet couch, eyes closed and breath even. Bakura chuckled quietly. The poor guy fell asleep.

Putting the glasses down gently, he went over to Malik and scooped him up in his arms and walked over to the bed. Pulling back the covers, Bakura placed Malik into the sheets, tucking them up around him. Malik sighed, snuggling down into the sheets, which were made of crimson silk, making him look so innocent. Bakura reached out, cupping the sleeping man’s cheek and smiled when he snuggled into the palm of his hand. Glancing at the clock, Bakura frowned. It was well past midnight and he hadn’t fed yet. Touching Malik one last time, Bakura picked up his coat once more and left the room quietly.