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Disclaimer – I do not own YuGiOh, or any of the characters therein. This is a work of FAN fiction, which means I’m not making any money off it, even though I could REALLY use the extra.

Author’s Notes- *slips a note out from under the bomb shelter door* Hello, everyone. Yes, it’s me, and I’m still alive. I know many of you have been frustrated, if not downright wanting to grab a pitchfork, torch, or anything else handy to hunt me down, and I do apologize. I won’t go into the whole sordid story, but suffice to say that my life since my last updates on ANY of my stories has not been conducive to writing AT ALL. It’s only recently that I have been able to pick up the threads of my writing talent and begin again.

I hope all of you will forgive me.

With that said, I am going through and updating the stories I HAVE gotten some done on, and I will promise that more will be forthcoming. In fact, I have managed to work on a few brand new stories for your enjoyment.

I hope to see you all around, and please … leave a review. Trust me when I say that at this moment, they would be very nice.

Chapter 3 – The Darker Sides


In the days that followed the incident, it was apparent to everyone in the group that ‘something’ had happened . . . . it was just that no one could figure out exactly what it could be. Ryou and Yugi seemed to be more open and bouncy than usual, and their darks . . .

Well, the fact that Yami and Bakura had actually been in the same room without going after each other several times already was enough to make everyone wonder if the world was coming to an end.

The curiousity especially ate at two of their number . . . Malik Ishtar and his yami, Marik. Malik, out of everyone, understood just how much history was between the Pharaoh and the Tomb Robber, and he was desperately curious as to how the two of them had gone from trying to outright kill each other at every turn to laughing and joking with each other nearly overnight!

Marik, on the other hand, had a much simpler reason for his own curiousity. He’d been interested in Bakura since Battle City, when the man had stood up to him over Rishid. He seriously desired a piece of that ass . . . but when it appeared that Ryou and the former spirit had hooked up for good, he’d let his quiet musings and plotting go.

Now, however, he was beginning to wonder if he’d been overly hasty in ending his pursuit of the Tomb Robber. Especially when he accidentally overheard Yugi on Friday after school, confessing to Jounouchi what had occurred at the two quasi-albino’s house the previous weekend.

“I mean, I can’t believe Yami and I did THAT . . . and for them to catch us! I was so embarrassed . . . but then Bakura said that he’d planned it, and that Ryou had been having dreams . . . it was just so bizarre! But it was so good, too! I’ve never . . .” The youth blushed bright pink. “It’s added dimensions to me and Yami’s relationship that I would never have had the guts to approach him about on my own. We’re both so much more open to new things . . . and it’s done Yami a world of good to become friends with Bakura. He can talk about the past with someone who actually was there and understands it.”

Violet eyes looked thoughtful as Marik faded back into the shadows. If he was reading between the lines right, the two yami’s and their hikari’s had been involved intimately last weekend. Which would definitely explain the change in attitudes . . . but left him with a serious question. If Ryou had been having dreams about Yami and Yugi . . . where did his relationship with Bakura stand? Did they have an open one, as he and his hikari did? If so . . .

A slight smirk crossed the caramel features, and he left quickly to find his own hikari. They needed to discuss this, and quickly . . . maybe he’d put his own thoughts on the Thief aside too quickly after all.


*-------*-------*-------*-------*


Ryou knocked politely, sparing a glance toward his companion as he waited for a response. Bakura lounged against the wall to one side of the door, his face set in an expressionless mask. Only his eyes showed any hint of emotion, and they were dark and brooding.

He knew what it was on his dark’s mind. It was hard not to, with the bond they shared and the close relationship they had developed since Bakura’s return to life. He was probably the only person, other than the former thief himself, who knew of Bakura’s interest in Marik, the Egyptian yami. But that interest had been locked up tight, hidden away because Bakura never made a move of that magnitude unless there had been some sign of interest in return.

Unfortunately, there had never been one. Marik had seemed to grow even more distant once the group assumed Ryou and Bakura were together as a couple. Of course, neither blonde had really been ‘close’ to begin with, but while Malik had slowly warmed to them, Marik had always stayed aloof and somewhat disinterested.

Which made this sudden unexpected invitation to visit the blonde’s apartment even more intriguing than it would usually have been. As far as they knew, none of the others had ever received such an invitation. The Egyptian’s kept their lives away from school very private . . . so why were he and his yami suddenly being invited into that closely guarded privacy?

The sound of the door opening caught his attention, and he turned his head from examining his yami . . . only to be caught helpless in a lavender gaze. He couldn’t help it – he’d always been one to be attracted to eyes, and Malik’s were simply stunning, to put it mildly.

Malik smiled slightly, the barest hint of a tilt caressing his lips as he met Ryou’s shell shocked gaze. He was well aware of the effect his eyes had on most people, and he was glad to see that Ryou wasn’t immune to it. It would make things easier … if they got in the door that was. At the moment, the pale hikari didn’t look capable of moving and as amusing as that was, it didn’t help get things moving in the right direction.

Luckily, he wasn’t the only one that could see the issue at hand. Bakura moved up behind his hikari, nudging him just hard enough that the chocolate eyes blinked and Ryou woke up. He flushed in embarrassment, stammering an apology as Malik opened the door wider.

“That’s alright,” the blonde murmured, stepping back to let the two quasi-albino’s enter the apartment. He and Marik had purchased it with money from the Rare Hunters after they’d disbanded, and they were both rather proud of it. He watched Ryou look around with wide eyes, but his attention centered mostly on the darker of the pair. Bakura was also looking around, but he wasn’t really looking at the apartment. You could see that from the tension that seemed to sing in the lithe body . . . a tension that suddenly released as he turned back to Malik.

“Your yami isn’t here,” he stated bluntly, and Malik nodded, hiding a smile. If Bakura had actually been looking for his dark, then things would hopefully go the way they had hoped.

“No, he went out,” the blonde hikari lied smoothly. In truth, Marik was in his bedroom, making last minute preparations. His dark was alike to Bakura in many ways . . . one of which being that they were both terrible at inter-people skills. Marik didn’t want to make the first move toward the Thief, and he suspected that Bakura had the same reasons for not making a move toward his dark. Hopefully, what he and his yami had planned over the last few days would fix that.

He was gratified to see a flash of what he thought was disappointment in the mahogany eyes of the former King of Thieves, but he needed more than just a suspicious flash of emotion to be sure of going through with this. Malik settled onto the tan suede couch, watching as the two pale men settled into a chair nearby, with Ryou on Bakura’s lap. It was a position that usually included lots of cuddling and petting . . . but while Bakura did hold his hikari against him, it was more of a closeness thing than a ‘love’ thing. There was no unnecessary touch, no petting, no whispered words and shared looks. From all appearances, their closeness was simply an extension of the natural bond all yami’s shared with their hikari’s.

Malik was rather relieved to see it, because it possibly meant that Bakura and Ryou were ‘together’ the same way he and his dark were. And if that were the case . . . well, he knew at least one person that would be pleased.

Thinking of his dark, he sent his observations back to Marik via their link, and felt his yami’s anticipation sharpen. That was, after all, what this invitation was about. Marik wanted Bakura . . . had wanted the thief ever since Battle City, actually. Very few people had the ‘balls’ to stand up to his dark the way the pale spirit had, and that had of course raised interest.

Turning his attention back to their guests, he wasn’t surprised to find himself the current object of scrutiny by both chocolate and mahogany orbs. But while Ryou didn’t appear to be thinking anything particular, he could almost see the thoughts running through Bakura’s head. The Thief was suspicious. Time to put things in motion.

“I hear you two had an interesting homecoming from Egypt,” he said without preamble. Shock was a big factor here . . . he wanted to see what kind of reaction he got. Ryou flushed brightly and looked somewhat embarrassed. Bakura, however, merely arched an eyebrow, as if they were discussing the weather instead of a sexual liason between himself, his hikari, the Pharaoh, and Yugi.

“It was a very interesting homecoming,” the older man responded after a moment. “Just how did you hear about the particular event?” Malik shrugged.

“Some comments were overheard . . . but honestly, there was suspicion before hand. It takes a lot for two people who hate each other so deeply to become friends almost overnight.” Mahogany eyes narrowed, and Malik shrugged again. “It didn’t take much to put two and two together.” Ryou shifted restlessly and then suddenly spoke up.

“It was because of me,” he said quietly, flushing deeply. “I’d . . . had some dreams . . . and Bakura thought it would be best for me if I had the chance to act them out.” Malik nodded his understanding, and the youth continued softly. “He and I had . . . discussed Yami before . . .”

Bakura arose while Ryou was talking, setting his light on the chair before heading for the balcony doors. Malik arched an eyebrow at the sudden departure, and Ryou smiled slightly, but it was a wistful, sad smile.

“He feels like he betrayed the memory of his people, no matter that he enjoyed it. He may have laid the past to rest, but it hasn’t left him alone yet,” the youth explained to Malik’s unasked question. “He doesn’t like to talk about it. Yami may be a friend now . . . but Bakura walks a thin line with it. He doesn’t do confusion well.”

Malik nodded in sudden understanding.

“That’s one thing he and my yami have in common,” the blonde murmured.


*-------*-------*-------*------*

Leaving the hikari’s to their discussion, Bakura wandered out onto the balcony of the apartment, standing at the rail looking out over Domino City.

He tried to squash the stirring disappointment that still flickered within him, annoyed by the wayward feeling. It wasn’t as if he had expected Marik to be there, but the obvious avoidance stung somewhat. He had hoped, although if anyone had asked he would have denied it, that the invitation had meant something . . . perhaps an offer of companionship if nothing more. That it had come from Malik only was rather . . . irritating.

He spun as a soft moan drifted through the air behind him, mahogany eyes searching for the source of the sound. There was nothing . . . no one stood on the balcony with him, and a brief survey of the surrounding balconies showed them as empty. He shrugged it off as a trick of the wind and began to turn back to the panoramic view of the city. He stopped suddenly as a flicker of movement caught his attention.

The barest corner of a curtain flickered in the wayward breeze just down the balcony from him, and silver-white hair swayed as he tilted his head slightly to one side, curiousity getting the better of him. Apparently the living room wasn’t the only room in the apartment that opened onto the balcony . . . but why had the door been left open? It was sloppy, and that was not something Bakura had ever equated with the blonde yami or his hikari. He glided down the short distance on silent feet, pale fingers drawing the cloth slightly to the side so he could see into the room. He froze as the view caught him, breath catching in his throat.

A queen size dark wood bed, four posts rising to the ceiling, dominated the room. Heavy brocade curtains were tied back at the corners, but it was the figure that the mahogany eyes were glued to, the rest of the room in the shadow of the glory that lay among the rich surroundings.

Marik lay spread eagle upon the wine red satin sheets, caramel skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. One hand stroked his erection lazily, the other fisted in the black and gold comforter, fingers clenching and unclenching with each slow stroke upon his flesh. Soft moans and whimpers escaped parted lips, violet eyes glazed as they stared at something out of line of sight from underneath half-closed lids.

Bakura shuddered slightly as his mind began to note other details of the picture, his own groin tightening as each was highlighted in his rapidly deteriorating mind. The glint of silver across the broad, muscled chest was first . . . a chain, connecting two clips that enclosed the dusky nubs of Marik’s nipples tightly. The second was the glint of metal around the engorged cock, a confusing glimpse until a caramel leg slid wider, revealing that the blonde had restrained himself from releasing before he was ready.
The thief had to bite his lip in order to keep from groaning, his pants constricting painfully. This was like some surreal wet dream made real, and the only thing that kept him from pouncing on the blonde was the fact that he was obviously not an object of interest to Marik, from past circumstances.

The sound of flesh meeting flesh underlay the scene, and mahogany eyes narrowed in puzzlement before all the pieces finally connected. Marik was watching porn . . . and had told his hikari to tell them he wasn’t there, apparently. Bakura shook his head, biting back another groan as he stepped back and away, letting the curtain fall from tingling fingers. As much as he would have loved to join the blonde, he obviously wouldn’t be welcomed . . . although he knew damn well what he’d just seen was going to be replaying in his head for a long time to come. Or cum, as the case would more likely be.

He turned to go, planning on heading back to the living room, collecting his hikari, and getting the hell out of there before his brain shut down completely and his body took over. He wasn’t quite sure what he would do if it did.

The pale thief had only taken a few steps when his progress was abruptly halted and reversed, an iron grip on his arm surprising him into a moment of inaction. That moment of inaction cost him as he was slammed against the wall, a grunt forced from him before his lips were covered with the warmth of flesh, his body pinned by a lean, muscular form pressed against it firmly. He blinked, eyes wide as he stared into violet orbs from less than an inch away. What the fuck . . .?

His confusion was derailed as Marik demanded entrance in the kiss, teeth nipping at his bottom lip, tongue probing for any opening. With a soft growl, he returned the demand with one of his own, lips parting only to begin a duel for dominance with the blonde, growl getting louder as he forced his body off the wall, backing Marik up step by slow step, one hand rising to fist in platinum blonde strands, holding the other yami into the hungry kiss.

Marik smirked into the kiss, his own hands creeping over the pale thief’s body, hastily undoing buttons and zippers in preparation for getting the man out of his clothing as quickly as possible. He was well pleased with how things were going so far . . . although he’d had a moment of complete astonishment when Bakura had turned away instead of joining him, as he’d expected. The thief had to have a will of iron control not to have succumbed to temptation . . . either that, or he wasn’t interested. That thought had actually hurt, and he’d gone after the pale man to find out what the fuck was going on in that mysterious and intriguing mind. Too bad his body had decided on other actions when he saw the complete look of surprise on Bakura’s face. It wasn’t often someone surprised the man, that was well known.

The pain of the fist in his hair only added to the pleasure of Bakura pressed against his aroused body, and he shuddered as his knees suddenly hit the bed, collapsing him back onto it with the pale thief riding him down, straddled atop him as the kiss broke off and teeth worked their way along his jaw to his throat, nipping harshly. He couldn’t help the low whimper of pleasure that escaped, his eyes slipping closed as he arched up into the pale body, trying to force more contact . . . only to cry out in surprise and pleasure, eyes flying wide as he felt Bakura’s teeth break skin near the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Gods, it hurt so damn good!

This was what he’d wanted . . . what he needed, and what his hikari couldn’t give him. Malik was incapable of doing this to him . . . he got nothing from the young Egyptian being rough, because he knew that if he wanted it to, it would stop. He could force Malik to stop. Bakura . . . he doubted anyone would have an easy time getting the thief to do something he did not wish to do. It was the thrill of not being in control that he sought, being helpless to stop anything, the fight for dominance with a true equal . . . and the former thief was the only person he considered a true equal to him.

“Fuck . . .” he cried out, his head falling back to give the pale thief more room, silver-white strands tickling over sensitized skin as Bakura fed off him. “Gods, don’t stop!” Caramel fingers clenched on the broad shoulders tightly, holding the pale man to him as he arched up further. “Bakura . . .”

Bakura growled softly, body slaved to his desires as he suckled greedily at crimson blood, lapping at the fluid with even, wet strokes of his tongue. His hands trailed over caramel flesh with a mind of their own, exploring at leisure and memorizing the curves and hard planes of Marik’s body. Nimble fingers closed over the trapped erection pressed between their bodies, picking up where Marik had left off with steady, firm strokes, forcing a whimper from the blonde’s throat.

Marik had already set the mood with his rough handling in the first move, and now the thief was in full swing. While he was always gentle with his hikari, and had been gentle with the Pharaoh, his sadistic nature craved causing pain with the pleasure. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Marik had a masochistic streak . . . the blonde yami had been born of pain and hatred after all.

He pressed his body into Marik’s, cloth sliding against sensitized caramel skin as he leaned forward, nipping at the blonde’s ear before whispering to him, his voice a low purr of pent up desire.

“Masochistic much, Marik?” he growled softly, and chuckled when Marik nipped his shoulder hard.

“Just shut up and fuck me through the damn mattress, Bakura,” the blonde snarled back, just as softly. “I didn’t put on that fucking show for us to talk.” Mahogany eyes blinked before Bakura sat up slightly, supporting his upper weight on his arms as he stared down into burning violet orbs.

“Show?” he murmured, and then the light bulb clicked. “You son of a bitch . . .” He chuckled quietly, leaning down to press his lips against Marik’s for a moment before pulling back and shaking his head. “Asshole … all you had to fucking do was say something to me and I would have gladly pounded your ass through any available surface at hand months ago.”

Violet eyes widened in their own surprise before slipping closed as Bakura’s mouth closed over the bite wound again, teeth working deeper into the flesh and sending delicious pain flickering along his nerve ending like lightning. He moaned, arching up against the pale body, hands pulling at cloth with growing desperation.

“Want to . . . feel you . . . against me . . .” he panted, his voice husky. He growled in disappointment when Bakura’s warmth was suddenly gone, eyes opening as he went to lodge a more verbal protest along the lines of ‘get your ass back here, you fucker’ . . . and the words died in his throat as cloth slid from pale, moon-kissed skin. “Holy shit . . .”

Marik devoured the King of Thieves with his eyes . . . it was the only way to describe it. Violet orbs slid slowly from the aquiline features, caressing broad shoulders and a well defined chest on the way south, watching the rest of that athletic body as it was revealed. Pale hands that had touched him moments before now slid over slim hips and muscular thighs, baring silver-white down at the apex of long legs, Bakura’s erection rising hard and impressive from the pale hair.

What stunned him into silence, however, was when the thief turned around to toss his clothes over a chair . . . baring the slim, pale tracery of whip scars on his back.
“Egypt?” he murmured, slipping from the bed and stalking up behind the pale man, fingers reaching out to lightly trace over one dim scar. Bakura stiffened under the touch before shrugging it off.

“I didn’t always get away,” Bakura replied over his shoulder, his hair falling forward slightly and hiding his face from sight. “I spent my fair share under the lash . . . although most were from before I was a thief.” He shook himself and turned, removing his back from under the light touch, eyes smoldering hungrily as he faced Marik head on. A single step brought him flush against caramel skin, and Marik shuddered at the feel of that silky skin sliding against him.

He was barely aware of Bakura once again backing him into the bed, gaze locked on mahogany orbs, trying to puzzle out what was in the blood tinted depths. There was pain there, and dark memory . . . but also something else which confused him. Thus he was completely caught off guard when his wrists were suddenly seized and confined.

“Wha . . .!” he began, and then was cut off by a ragged moan as his restrained member was suddenly engulfed in wet, suckling warmth, the careful brush of teeth against over sensitized flesh as Bakura went down on him. He never felt the ties that slipped over his ankles, confining his legs to the bed and leaving him spread wide and at the mercy of the usually merciless thief. “Oh Ra . . .”

Bakura hadn’t exactly been idle as he stripped . . . he’d got a good glimpse of what lay underneath the huge bed, and he had plans for Marik now. First he wanted to hear Marik scream . . . after that would come his own fun. He suckled at the glistening tip of Marik’s erection, tongue probing the slit teasingly before he took the blonde fully into his mouth, nose brushing pale golden curls as he fucked the Egyptian yami with his mouth. He traced out the cock ring with his tongue on each downward bob, hands smoothing over caramel hips to hold the blonde down as he tortured him.

Violet eyes rolled back, lids slipping half closed as the pleasure engulfed him in a wave of fire. His entire body throbbed on the border of pleasure and pain, wanting the release that was denied it yet never wanting the pleasure to end at the same time. He tugged at the bonds holding him, finding them tight enough to keep him down but not hard enough to seriously hurt him. They bit slightly, but the pain was an additional pleasure that he relished. Malik would never have had the balls to tie him down like this . . .

For a moment, Bakura left him, but returned quickly before the blonde could turn his head to locate where he’d gone. The warmth returned, and with it the flickering fire of pleasure . . . and then something was shoved deep inside his unprepared, tight entrance, making him back and cry out in ragged pain-filled pleasure.

“BAKURA!” he shouted, hips bucking and inadvertently allowing the thief to shove the dildo in deeper, slamming it into his prostate with bruising force as he writhed. “YES! FUCK YES!”

Mahogany eyes watched through narrowed slits, Bakura resting on his knees between the parted legs, one hand wrapped around Marik’s trapped erection, the other working the toy in and out of the caramel body with jarring efficiency. Satisfaction and desire burned through him as he watched Marik writhe beneath his hands and he began to turn the toy in small half circles, rotating his wrist as he shoved it in and out of the trembling body, making sure the slightly curved tip moved over as much of the inner walls as possible.

“So fucking beautiful . . .” he murmured hoarsely, licking his lips to wet them as Marik’s muscles began to visibly tighten, the blonde obviously approaching his orgasm rapidly. He pumped the trapped erection harshly in time with his movements with the toy, and it wasn’t long before Marik wailed loudly, screaming out in pleasure as his body arched harshly off the bed, his cock pulsing as the release was trapped behind the cock ring.

Overwhelmed with the mixed sensations of pain and pleasure, his groin throbbing desperately, Marik collapsed back on the bed in a boneless heap, panting harshly for breath, eyes closed.

“Holy . . . shit . . .” he murmured after several moments, eyes slipping open to look at Bakura. He bit his lip, sucking on the blood desperately as he found the pale thief settled between his legs, slowly stroking lubrication over his twitching length, watching him through a veil of silver-white hair. “Kura . . .” he whimpered, his body twitching more at the promise in those mahogany orbs.

“You wanted me to fuck you through this mattress, right?” the thief growled softly, reaching down to slowly untie the blonde’s ankles.

“Please . . .” Marik whispered, legs wrapping around the pale man and tugging him closer. “Gods, Bakura . . . don’t fuck with me, just do it . . . hurt me . . . I need it . . .”

Just the feel of that slim body settling between his legs made him burn, his over sensitized flesh awash with flame. He writhed as Bakura pressed against him, tip teasing at his entrance . . . before gasping as his legs were suddenly drawn up over the broad shoulders. He had barely a moment to register the new position before he was suddenly filled, Bakura slamming deeper into him than the toy had managed with his body wide open to be plundered harshly.

“FUCK!” he screamed, bucking back against the sudden invasion. “Oh GODS! YES! MORE!”
Bakura set a harsh, fast pace, his own need screaming through him as Marik’s voice pushed him further over the edge of his consciousness, drawing out his darker nature. An animalistic growl purred from deep in his chest as he slammed into the velvet warmth of Marik’s body, leaning further into the blonde and opening him wider as he planted his arms on either side of Marik’s head. He allowed one leg to slip free as he bent down further, burying his teeth in the unmarred shoulder unerringly, the growl deepening to a full throated snarl as his pleasure crested with each of the sharp cries that he forced from the blonde.

Marik struggled with his own sanity, arms tugging at the bonds with desperate force before they finally snapped, his wrists abraded from the struggle. He screamed with the bite, sinking his own teeth into Bakura’s throat and savoring the crimson fluid that dripped onto his lips with the bite as the thief slammed into him, the dull thud of flesh colliding filtering through the room with the cries and whimpers that were drawn from each throat.

Time stopped as both reached their peak and fell over it together, two voices crying out as one when the world shattered around them. The heat of Bakura’s release deep within him was like acid, burning through him and taking with it any thought beyond the pleasured pain of his second denied release. Marik whimpered as Bakura withdrew from him slowly and collapsed beside him.

That whimper came out even louder as dexterous fingers released his restrained cock a few moments later, the pain almost overwhelming. He rolled over, forcing his body into movement, his hand closing over his flesh . . . before a pale hand closed over his wrist, stopping him from relieving himself.

“Me . . .” Bakura snarled weakly, and shifted on the bed, rising to his hands and knees, his arms braced on the headboard as he bent over it. “Want to . . . feel you . . .”
Marik blinked, stared, then grinned before moving behind the pale body, his hand fisting in pale hair as he pulled Bakura back up against him for a moment.

“My pleasure . . .” he growled softly, then pressed his hand between the thief’s shoulder blades, shoving him back to the bed, coating himself with a whimpered moan as he gazed as the submissive position. Gods, he never expected to see Bakura in such a way.

Bakura shifted against the bed, burying his face in a pillow. Gods help him, but he knew this was going to hurt . . . and he didn’t fucking care. He wanted Marik NOW! Fuck the fact that this body was virgin . . . he’d deal with the consequences later. He was too far gone to care at this point.

The sudden harsh entrance jerked him out of it with a scream, his body writhing to get away and only drawing Marik in deeper. Teeth bit into cloth, muffling the pain filled cry as his body was invaded harshly. He sank into it, let it wash over him to find the pleasure beneath. He was concentrating so hard he didn’t feel Marik stop as he came to rest fully inside him.

Violet eyes stared down at the pale back in astonishment, his lust and need pushed to one side for a moment by the surprise. The whip scars stood out like a pale tracery of lattice against the already moonlit skin, muscles twitching and shivering beneath them. Gods, if he’d fucking even THOUGHT that Bakura was a virgin he never would have taken the thief up on his offer! He liked pain, and enjoyed causing it in others, but to take a virgin with no preparation so harshly was just beyond sadistic!

He leaned over the thief, blonde hair brushing the tense shoulders as tenderness flickered through him, nuzzling at slim column of the pale throat before whispering.
“I’m sorry . . . gods, Bakura, you should have said something . . .” he said softly. “I didn’t know . . .”

“I’m alright,” came the muffled reply. Pale hips moved tentatively back against him, and Marik had to bite back a groan at the pleasure. His body had been denied two releases already, and it was dying for completion at this point. It was a struggle to stay still, and if Bakura kept doing that . . .

Unfortunately, Bakura wasn’t about to stop moving. The pleasure of being bottom was something he remembered, but dimly, and he wanted to remember it clearer. While Marik’s concern touched and surprised him, he’d deal with the odd emotion flickering through him over it later. Right now, he wanted the blonde to move!

“Marik, please . . . feels . . . gods, feels good,” he murmured, pushing back against the blonde again, rocking on his knees in an effort to get more. “Don’t … don’t make me beg . . .”

Marik couldn’t help the smirk, even as he bit his lip again at the pleasure Bakura was causing with his movements. He began moving slowly, as much as it cost him to do it, he wanted this to feel good for them both, not to just take his own release that his body was so desperately craving at the moment.

The choked moans drawn from Bakura’s throat did nothing to help his control, nor the fact that the former thief was moving with him, meeting each of his strokes with a thrust back of his hips. But his end was coming too soon . . . he could feel it, the build-up from the two previous denied completions.

Leaning over, he wrapped one arm around Bakura’s chest, pulling the thief up against him so that they were both on their knees, rocking together in a primal dance. The thief’s head fell back on his shoulder, and he turned his gaze to watch the parted lips and half-lidded eyes, dark depths glazed in passion as each soft cry was drawn from him.

“Gods, Bakura . . .” he whispered, warmth flooding through him in a strange wave. Holding the pale man against him with one arm, he slid the other hand slowly over the smooth, twitching planes of the thief’s stomach to wrap slim fingers around the twitching, returned erection, pumping it slowly and varying the tightness with each stroke, shifting to seek out the thief’s bundle of nerves.

Bakura moaned raggedly, his hips bucking into the sudden touch. He felt like he should be going up in flame . . . and when Marik suddenly sank his teeth into his shoulder, marking him as he slammed into his prostate, he erupted, a long scream dragged from his throat as he came.

Marik shuddered against him, pace suddenly erratic and fast as his body screamed for its own final completion. Seconds after Bakura tightened around him in his own release, it hit, surprising him as he exploded.

“KURA!!!!” His arms tightened convulsively around the pale man, holding him against his shivering body firmly as the pleasure/pain of final release crashed through him before he went limp, carefully laying Bakura down before coming to rest beside him, curling around the shuddering thief, holding him carefully and protectively. He nuzzled into the back of the pale neck, inhaling the scent of sex and the spicy, enticing aroma that was purely the thief, and smiled slightly.

Murmuring softly, Bakura settled back against the blonde with his own contented smile, closing his eyes and relaxing into sleep, which was unheard of for him. But for some strange reason, he knew he was safe . . . if there was anyone out there that could cover his back, it was the blonde behind him.

Marik felt much the same, although he couldn’t quite describe it. With a soft sigh, he slipped into slumber himself, his last thought a message to his hikari to make their excuses to Ryou . . . because Bakura wouldn’t be going anywhere for a bit.