Gravitation

Disclaimer - I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, or any of the characters therein. If I did, certain individuals would never be allowed out of my bed.


Author's Notes - well, this is my first posting on AFF.Net, although it isn't my first fanfiction including sex scenes. Damn FanFiction.Net and their moronic
ideas about proper reading.

This is AU, by the way, and some of the characters are OOC, but I hope you'll let it slide and enjoy the story.

Finally, the other piece of the couple show's up! And this chapter contains Marik/Bakura Lemon . . . so be warned : ) Enjoy and please review. Let me
know if it's worth it for me to keep posting.


Chapter 2 - The Self-Proclaimed Bodyguard

Another night, another round of putting up with unwanted advances.

"Does it ever end?" he growled under his breath. Once again he was working until closing, but at least this time he didn't have to worry about Yugi or any
of his friends. Yugi had finals coming up for his first semester of college, and he was determined that he was going to blow the 'curve' out of the water,
whatever that meant.

Personally, he didn't know why Yugi was bothering . . . having a degree just meant you spent more money getting trained to do a job that some schmoe off
the street would get before you because he didn't need as much money to do it. Degree or not, everyone had to start at the bottom of the dog pile . . . you
only had a slightly better chance of getting promoted, and that was only if you kissed ass enough.

Spotting Kaiba heading his way, Yami tried to plaster a smile on his face in preparation to face his boss. Seto had still not forgotten how he'd been
cornered the other night . . . and knowing Kaiba, he wasn't likely to forget either. When it came to people who tried his patience, the man had the memory
of an elephant . . . and he always repaid the favor with double the trouble it had caused him.

"Mr. Kaiba . . . can I get you a drink?" Yami asked in his best 'hi boss, how are you?' voice. Kaiba didn't buy it.

"Cut the shit, Yami. I want to hear about what happened to Marik the other night." Yami gaped in shock for a moment before recovering . . . that was the
last thing he had expected to be asked about.

"It was an ex-boyfriend," he murmured, stirring a Long Island Iced Tea slowly as he talked. "Apparently he thinks Marik is his property and doesn't want
him working here." Kaiba's fist met the bar top suddenly, startling several patrons who moved away from him at the sudden display of temper.

"The boy never mentioned that in his interview . . . I don't need this kind of trouble," the man growled, his sapphire eyes growing dangerously cold and
dark. "I should kick him out on his ass."

"You'd be losing a valuable asset . . . I've had several people asking about him since he first danced that night. He was quite the hit with the patrons," Yami
said, his eyes on the drink in his hands. He didn't want Kaiba seeing his eyes at the moment . . . Seto was good at reading emotions, and the last thing Yami
needed was his boss knowing about his own interest in the new dancer.

"No shit, Yami. Tell me something I don't know," the tall man growled. "That's the only reason I'm not firing him on the spot." Yami hid the sigh of relief
that statement brought. "He's returning to work tonight if anyone else asks. His is the last set . . . it's the best way to milk the most money out of this
crowd." Turning, the owner stalked away.

Yami rolled his eyes and delivered the drink to it's owner. Leave it to Kaiba to put everything into dollars and cents . . . the man didn't have a caring bone
in his body. It made Yami shiver how much money could chill a person . . . and very glad that he didn't ever have to worry about it. He would have hated
himself if he had become another money grubbing snob.

He was waylaid on the way back to mixing drinks by a pale hand on his arm. He looked up at the owner, about to give a stunning put down . . . when he
met the man's eyes. Chocolate brown, they glowed with an inner fire that contrasted sharply with the cool white of the man's disheveled hair. He looked
disturbingly like Yugi's friend Ryou, only older.

"That was the owner, wasn't it," a smooth tenor ground out. Yami nodded.

"Yeah, that was Seto Kaiba," he affirmed. "Why? You looking for a job?"

"Something like that . . . I'm here for Marik." Yami studied the man carefully. This wasn't the guy who had attacked the dancer in the alleyway the other
night . . . that man had been even more tan then the teenager was. This guy was pale, almost ghostly in appearance, but he had the same aura of dangerous
menace around him that the attacker had..

"What the dancers do in their off time is their choice, but while he's here he's protected by Kaiba Corp. employees so I don't suggest you try to mess with
him," Yami said cooly, shrugging the hand on his arm off as he leveled a dangerous glare at the pale stranger. The stranger had the nerve to smirk at the
veiled threat.

"I'm not here to 'mess' with him, as you put it . . . I'm here to protect him from that bastard ex of his, Malik," the pale teenager answered just as cooly. "I
just wanted to let Mr. Kaiba know."

"I'll be sure he gets the message," Yami said, pointedly turning his back on the man to continue on his way. A chuckle caused him to turn back.

"You have spunk . . . there are not many out there who would turn their back on me," the stranger said. Yami shrugged, an elegant lift of one shoulder.

"There aren't many people out there who scare me, and you certainly aren't one of them," he said. The stranger had the nerve to laugh again.

"I could get to like you, bartender. But don't cross me." Yami raised an eyebrow at the threat and then quelled the urge to step back when a pale hand was
held out to him. He'd never backed away from anyone . . . and he wasn't about to start now, no matter how tempting. "I'm Bakura . . . Marik's friend and
room mate." Yami carefully took the hand and pumped it once.

"Yami," he said shortly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got patrons waiting for their drinks. Anything I can get you?"

"Bailey's over ice," Bakura murmured. "If you're not too busy."

"No problem," Yami said and got the drink for him. He set it down in front of the man and then continued to attend to his other patrons. Bakura, however,
was pleased to note that Yami kept a close eye on him. That was good . . . a bartender needed good instincts in a place like this.

That was fine . . . while Yami kept one eye on Bakura, the white haired young man was keeping both eyes on that luscious body. Clad in tight black jeans, a
crimson silk shirt, and a leather vest, Yami was quite the walking torture. Bakura couldn't help but wonder why he was a bartender, and not one of the
dancers. He got his answer when he spied Yami maneuvering out of the way of groping hands and deflecting comments and invitations. Yami wasn't
dancing because having him behind the bar kept people buying drinks just to be close to him. The dancers were visions . . . but they were untouchable
ones. Yami was a god within reach . . . and from the looks of it, he had more than enough admirers of his own who stayed at the bar just to give it an
attempt.

He watched Yami pause for a moment to wipe sweat from his forehead. He spoke with the other bartender for a moment . . . a tall blonde by the name of
Joey, if Marik had it right . . . and then disappeared. He was back moments later, minus the silk shirt. Bakura wasn't one to drool over every male that
caught his eye, but he was hard pressed to remain sitting while Yami walked past him clad only in his jeans and the black leather vest. He spied the Eye of
Horus tattooed on the back of his left shoulder, and smirked. So Yami was gay or bi . . . that made things much more interesting. Marik had the same
tattoo, and had explained it to Bakura when he'd first moved in with him.

Thinking of Marik, he turned towards the stage, trying to get his raging blood under control. Very rarely did a man get under his skin the way Yami already
had . . . but the combination of gorgeous looks a w a will of iron was too tempting by far. His lovers in the past had all been timid rabbits . . . too afraid of
him to ever make it more than a good fuck before Bakura moved on. Bakura wanted someone who would stand up to him . . . and occasionally even
dominate him. Marik wasn't that kind of guy . . . his relationship with Malik had nearly destroyed any backbone the teenager had. Besides, he was still on
the road to recovery from that doomed pairing. Bakura knew there was steel in the blonde . . . but it had been so warped and twisted by Malik's harsh
beatings that it would be a while before it got straightened back out.

He'd told Marik not to get involved with the guy . . . it had been obvious from the beginning that Malik was psychotic, especially to the borderline
psychotic that he was himself. But Marik had thought he was in love, and had not heeded his friend's advice. Bakura had been less than pleased when
Marik had shown up on his doorstep over two months ago, sporting several broken ribs and odd bruises all over his body. Nothing that would have left
scarring of course . . . Malik had been careful not to harm the beautiful body that he was so possessive over . . . but the mental scarring was worse in it's
own way.

Sighing, Bakura sipped at his drink, surprised at the flash of anger that memory had stirred. He usually couldn't care less what happened to other people . .
. but Marik was his friend, the only one he had. They had grown up together and Marik was the only person living who knew about his childhood. So yeah,
Bakura cared about him . . . and Malik was in for one hell of a session of torture if Bakura ever caught him near the young blonde. He supposed part of his
attraction to Yami might stem from the fact that Marik had told him about the other night. Yami had been the one to step in and stop Malik from killing his
friend, for which Bakura was grateful. He doubted the bartender had known what he was getting into . . . Malik wouldn't hesitate to kill him for daring to
interfere.

It seemed Yami had made quite the impression on Marik that night, because the blonde dancer hadn't shut up about him since then. For Marik's sake, and
for the sake of his own mental well-being, he was here to keep an eye on things. He only hoped Malik would be smart enough to stay away . . . but he
highly doubted it.

Marik's set came up, and he watched the crowd for any sign of the taller, tanned blonde. He saw nothing out of the ordinary . . . not surprising, as Malik
had to know that the employee's would be on the lookout for him. Attacking one of Kaiba's dancers was asking for a death sentence. Kaiba Corp. took
care of it's employee's according to local rumor. . . even the ones that worked in this out of the way, half planned dance club that Seto Kaiba had built on a
whim.

He cast a glance at Yami out of the corner of his eye, and found the bartender's eyes on the blonde on stage. Interesting . . . it appeared Yami had a thing
for Marik. He shrugged elegantly . . . he wouldn't mind it if the two got together. Yami could provide the support Marik needed at the moment . . . and if he
could get in on the action as well, he would be quite happy. Yami could provide the challenge he desperately needed in his love life, and with a body like a
roman god . . .

Bakura abruptly snapped out of his thoughts as he spied Malik at the back of the club, near the entrance. The blonde was watching Marik on stage, a
predatory gleam in his dark eyes, his tongue flicking out to run over his lips hungrily. Reaching behind the bar, he snagged Yami's attention.

"You might want to let the owner know that trouble's in the house . . ." he murmured. Yami's eyes followed his to the door.

"Is that the guy that attacked Marik the other night?" Bakura nodded. "Then it's taken care of," the man said. He whispered to Joey, and then walked out
from behind the bar towards a bouncer that stood nearby, Bakura at his heels.

"Tristan . . ." Yami said, getting the tall brunette's attention. "See the guy over by the door? The tall blonde, tan . . . looks a bit like the new dancer?"
Tristan nodded.

"Yeah, I see him Yami. Trouble?" Yami nodded.

"With a capitol 'T' bud," Yami murmured. "That's the guy who attacked Marik the other night. Take Duke and Atlas with you, and get rid of him before
he can start any more trouble. You know what Kaiba will do if we don't head this off." Tristan nodded before walking off, snagging a lithe young man with
long black hair and a dice earring and a tall, wide mountain of human flesh on his way towards the door.

Bakura stood beside Yami and watched as the scuffle broke out. It was quickly over, Malik subdued and turned over to police who had been called in by
Joey from behind the bar.

"Nice . . . you people really look out for each other, don't you?" Bakura murmured. Yami grunted before returning to the bar.

"Kaiba could care less, as long as it doesn't hurt his profits. If we don't look out for each other, no one else will," the tri-colored bartender muttered under
his breath, just loud enough for Bakura to hear. "I don't like to see anyone get hurt unless they deserve it."

"I thought Kaiba Corp. took care of their people . . ." Bakura murmured. Yami snorted.

"That usually only happens after the fact. That's when Kaiba notices that there is something wrong . . . when a wrench shows up in the gears of his great
business machine. It's those of us who actually work in this place that do the preventative maintenance." Bakura nodded.

"Yeah . . . that's usually the way it is with the rich," he said. He was startled when Yami spun around and pinned him up against the side of the bar.

"Don't lump everyone that's rich in with people like Kaiba," he snarled, his face inches from Bakura's own. "Not everyone with money is concerned only
about money!" Finding himself caught between the bar and Yami's lithe form, Bakura got hot. This was what he needed . . . someone to threaten him,
someone to dominate him on an equal level. He couldn't help himself . . . he leaned forward and caught Yami's lips in a brutal, passionate kiss, one hand
reaching up to cup the back of the bartender's head so that he couldn't get away. He groaned when Yami didn't pull away, but rather began to dominate
the kiss, pushing Bakura further back against the bar.

Wolf whistles and cat calls brought Yami back to his senses. He pulled out of Bakura's grasp, angrily wiping one arm across his lips before retreating back
behind the bar. Joey gave him a concerned look ,which he waved off as he went about serving drinks again, his eyes firmly on what he was doing. What the
hell had gotten into him? Closing time couldn't come fast enough at this point . . . he had just reacted like an horny adolescent in front of a whole club full
of hentai's. He had to admit though, Bakura turned him on, and that was dangerous for him. But the body that had just been pressed against his wouldn't
leave his mind.

'Okay, Yami, snap out of it . . .' he growled angrily at himself. 'You're working, number one, and the guy is an arrogant pain in the ass. Whether or not
he's here for Marik, you are NOT getting involved with him.' Too bad his body was telling him otherwise.

Bakura pushed himself off the bar as Yami suddenly released him and disappeared back behind the bar. He growled low in his throat at the spectators still
standing around, smirking in satisfaction when they quickly returned their attentions to other things. He smoothed his shirt back down over his chest,
calming himself. That had been . . . just plain amazing. Gods what he wouldn't do to get that guy in his bedroom . . . if that was just a sample of what Yami
was capable of, Bakura wanted more.

Marik's set ended, and bouncers began to insure people were leaving. Bakura made his way into the back dressing rooms, showing the pass Marik had
given him when the bouncers tried to stop him. Even without the pass, Bakura would have liked to see them try to stop him . . . he could use a little blood
right now to get himself to rights. He was still flustered over that kiss and the aggressive way Yami's lithe form had been pressed against his.

"Nice show," Marik said as he walked up behind the blonde, who was busily trying to get gold glitter out of his hair. "I told you he was hot."

"You didn't mention dominant," he growled as he plopped down into the chair next to him, leaning one arm against the dressing table.

"Yeah . . did did forget to mention that, didn't I?" Marik said ironically, and then grinned at the disgruntled look his friend gave him. "You wouldn't have
believed me even if I had told you." Bakura shrugged.

"You're probably right . . . I wouldn't have," he said.

"So . . .are you inviting him home?" Marik asked. Bakura glared at him.

"No . . . I'm not. I think you would have better luck anyway." Marik glanced at him.

"Serious? I would have thought you'd be more his type . . ." He shrugged. "Suit yourself . . . I just think you don't want to admit he turned you on."
Bakura snarled at him, standing up abruptly to pace behind the blonde. Marik watched him in the mirror, noting the agitated way he kept running his hands
through his white hair. Yep . . . Bakura was turned on all right, and none to pleased about it either. Finally done getting his makeup off, he stood up and
slipped into his normal clothing. "Let's get out of here," he said to the whirling dervish that was his best friend. Bakura nodded his agreement and followed
him out the door to the car.

The drive back to their apartment was silent . . . almost too quiet, especially with Bakura as wound up as he was. Because of this, Marik was ready when
Bakura dragged him into a kiss as soon as the apartment door closed. Marik groaned as one pale hand brushed his hard on, cupping his sack through the
cloth of his khaki pants. He tried to gentle the kiss, turn it into one of passion rather than need, but Bakura was not into cooperating tonight.

"Bakura . . ." he gasped when the white haired fiend finally backed off to breathe. "This isn't what you need right now . . ."

"Fuck that," he snarled. "I need release Marik, or else I'm going to pop. He was . . . gods, I can't stop thinking about him even now!" He ground his own
erection against Marik's, making the blonde groan. "Marik . . . please . . ." Bakura whispered against his neck, his teeth lightly scraping the sensitive skin.
Marik shivered, drawing his body closer as Bakura wrapped his arms around the lithe dancer. "I know you're still recovering from Malik . . ." Marik shook
his head.

"I need this too . . ." he whispered. "Fuck me . . . show me I'm not a worthless toy." Bakura growled, nipping at one tanned collar bone as he quickly
unbuttoned the lavender dress shirt Marik was wearing before shrugging out of his own half open cotton shirt. Pale skin met tan in a heated frenzy as they
tried to touch everywhere at once, their lips locked together as their tongues tasted what they hadn't sampled in over a year. Marik had been his before
anyone else . . . a fact that Bakura had never forgotten, even when they had discovered a full relationship between them could never work out. They had
their friendship, and the occasional screw session . . . that's all they had ever really needed from each other. Pants, underwear and everything else were
hastily thrown aside as they made their unsteady way to the couch, where Bakura collapsed with Marik on top of him.

Bakura hissed as Marik attacked one of his nipples, alternately biting, licking and sucking as he worked his hands down to Bakura's erection. The white
haired man arched his back, his eyes closing as Marik encircled his manhood in one graceful, long fingered hand, pumping him slowly as he worked on the
other nipple.

"Good god, Marik," he groaned as Marik licked his way down his chest to his navel, where he stopped to dip a teasing tongue into his button before going
lower. In response, he was suddenly enveloped in a wet, cavernous warmth "Holy . . ." he whispered as he felt the blonde's tongue dance around his head
before sliding along the sensitive underside. He sensed Marik reach down under the couch for the bottle of lubricant, and was not startled when, a couple of
seconds later, he felt Marik insert a finger into his hole. He groaned aloud at the sensation, hissing in surprised pleasure and pain when the blonde added a
second and then a third. Stars flashed behind his closed lids as Marik brushed that one spot inside him that made him feel like the world would explode. He
sat up quickly, changing their positions in a blink of an eye. As much as he cared for his friend, he would not allow Marik to dominate him . . . as if Marik
ever would. Touching was one thing . . . he would have been amazed if Marik had even considered seriously being the top. He'd never tried before and
Bakura had been his first and only . . . before Malik had gotten a hold of him. And from what little Marik had been willing to tell him about the year he'd
spent missing, Malik had done nothing but use him.

Bakura quickly took charge of the situation, licking at Marik's weeping erection as the blonde tossed and moaned beneath him. He lubricated his fingers
quickly before beginning to prepare the teenager, being thorough and hitting the same spot within the writhing body beneath him that Marik had hit moments
before. Marik howled, his back arching up off the couch with the touch . . . and Bakura slid home.

Marik gasped at the feel of Bakura's intrusion, but bucked wildly when the white haired man above him stilled.

"Don't . . . stop . . . oh god, please Bakura . . ." he moaned. Bakura nodded . . . Marik needed this as much as he currently did. He had not had sex with
anyone since leaving Malik . . . he needed to be reminded that sex did not always have to include being beaten nearly to death. He started slowly,ng
ng
gentle in a surprising show of tenderness that was not lost on his partner. He reached down with one pale hand and grasped the blonde's hard on, pumping
it slowly in time with his thrusts.

Marik panted, pushing back against Bakura in an effort to more quickly relieve the tension that was building in the pit of his stomach. He could sense
Bakura was nearing the limit of his patience . . . Bakura being tender never lasted long, but the fact that his friend had made the effort touched him. He
opened his eyes, lavender meeting cool chocolate.

"Bakura . . . harder . . ." he murmured. That did the trick . . . Bakura slammed into him, hitting his sweet spot with an accuracy that had never failed to
surprise him, even as it made the world spin. He screamed, his voice echoed by Bakura's as they came in unison. It had been too long for both of them.

Afterwards, as they lay intertwined on the couch, a towel nearby having cleaned up a majority of the mess, Bakura running his fingers through the platinum
blonde strands, Marik asked his question.

"What are you going to do about Yami?" The hand playing with his hair stilled for a moment before resuming it's course. Bakura sighed beneath him, his
chesting ing and falling deeply before he answered.

"I suppose I'll just have to get to know him," the white haired man said, and grinned. "Could be interesting . . . he already seems like he would be a
hellcat."