[Kaiba x Yami Bakura ficlet] Seto Kaiba has no desire whatsoever to beat his rival with the help of 'stupid parlour tricks' - but Yami Bakura keeps trying to change his mind.
The faint light of a decreasing moon and distant street lamps glimmers up to the office, unable to rival the one that comes from the screen, but that's all Kaiba needs to see, and his visitor is quite confident in darkness.
"Forget it," Kaiba snarls without as much as looking up, or even pausing in his typing, "I will not rely on stupid parlour tricks. If that's all you have to say, you can leave."
Yami Bakura leans back in the leather chair, and rather than acknowledging the answer, admires the way Kaiba's fingers run over the keyboard, thinking how pleasuring they could be if the CEO put a little effort into it: it's a pity he's so frigid or brutal in bed, and that he's not the right person to teach him tenderness; maybe he should push Bakura into control some day...
"What does it matter?" he finally says, when it doesn't seem as if Kaiba will add anything, and he knows the CEO is quite capable of throwing him out if only to prove that he is. "You just have to play like you always do - I'm just offering some extra help."
He knows that Kaiba is a better duellist than he is: not necessarily because he's more skilled or has a better deck, but he's more goal-driven and fixed on victory; he seems oblivious to the pleasure of watching the pharaoh struggle for life and failing and sinking and betraying as he does... He obviously has his priorities wrong, but at least he won't be distracted. And he's given replacement for that lost pleasure in forwards...
Besides, if he duels, it means that his host is definitely out of the game as well.
"I don't need you to interfere in my duels. Your magic doesn't exist."
/Liar/, the thief thinks, and, despite of himself, begins to be irritated. He knows perfectly well that his magic works, he's too smart not to; but he wants to defeat the pharaoh for the mere sake of it, and is just too arrogant to accept a victory in a game that is rigged, and not by himself.
"You're more like the priest than you realise," he snaps, because it's true and bound to piss him off.
Kaiba must be more tired than he seems to be, or he wouldn't be that easy to provoke:
"Get out," he says coldly, still not even looking at him, but he's stopped typing.
He stands up, but he walks around the table instead of heading for the door, and comes to stand right in front of Kaiba.
"Think about it... At least his cheerleaders will be quiet, for once."
Kaiba glares up, before grabbing his collar and dragging him downward into a kiss. He's a lousy kisser, in his opinion, no timing, too much force and too little feeling; all things considered, he's a lousy lover as well, and of course, unwilling to take any hints in the right direction. The latter really shouldn't surprise or at least not bother him, but it does: it makes him wish he had his own, his real body back instead of this forceless and fragile one.
He breaks the kiss just for a moment, then lets himself be dragged onto Kaiba's lap, one leg on each side of the chair, and shots the laptop close with a loud snap, knowing, to his annoyance, that the documents will be saved anyway.
"I told you to leave," Kaiba illogically snaps between two kisses; that makes him smirk: he had been determined to convince the CEO tonight, but in the end, he can afford to take a little longer.