Forget-Me-Not

‘A very small degree of hope is sufficient to cause the birth of love.’ Monday’s card read with a group of forget-me-nots.

‘Among men and women, those in love do not always announce themselves with declarations and vows.’,Tuesday’s card read with a bouquet of forget-me-nots.

‘At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet.’ Wednesday’s card read with the regular vase of forget-me-nots

Thursday’s was ‘Doubt that the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love.’ again with the tiny blue flowers.

Friday’s read ‘It isn't possible to love and part ....’

‘Looking back, I have this to regret, that too often when I loved, I did not say so’ Saturday’s read along with the regular bouquet with a red ribbon.

‘Sonofa--!” Malik screamed on Sunday after reading that day’s card. Isis snatched up the card and grinned as she read it aloud to Rashid.

“Roses are red, violets aren’t blue. Vinegar isn’t sweet but neither are you. Stop trashing the flowers.”

Both adults busted up laughing as Malik stewed.

“It’s not funny!” he cried. “You don’t know who’s sending me these flowers. They could be a psycho.”

“You don’t know who’s sending them either.” Isis replied.

Yes I do, Malik wanted to shout. Bakura is sending me the flowers and cards. Bakura and I have fucked each other and now I can’t stop dreaming of him.

Of course Isis would pitch a fit and begin sending him to a shrink. Rashid would probably wonder which Ishtar he was serving and reveal his laundry issues. Then he’d be stuck explaining the entire embarrassing thing to the Pharaoh. How Bakura was back and he had sexual encounters galore with him, real and unreal.

Already Malik could hear Yugi and the Pharaoh’s friends cracking up listening to him explain everything to them.

“What kind of nutcase dreams of that psycho fucking them and them fucking him?” Tristan or Joey would say.

Tea would shudder while the shared body of Yugi Moto would go from laughing to wincing depending which person was in control.

Oh no, there was no way in hell this was getting out!

“Be realistic, who do you know that would know me long enough to want to send me flowers?” Malik asked with a smirk.

Both adults thought long and hard.

“I’m told there are a bunch of girls at your school that would do something like this.” his sister spoke up.

If only, Malik thought wryly.

“What about Serenity Wheeler?” Rashid inquired. “Isn’t she single?”

“And has a huge crush on Seto Kaiba.” Malik added mildly. Isis snorted.

“Like she would have a chance with someone as sophisticated as Seto.” she muttered in a huff. The two men in the room exchanged knowing looks.

“I’m going to go out for a ride.” Malik told Rashid who nodded in response. Then without another word, he left.

As the wind gusted through his hair, he knew exactly where he was going. To the place it began. To the place that haunted his dreams. To Ryou’s house.

The quaint two story house was like he remembered. The reinforced door and soundproofed windows all hidden behind clever disguises of wood and glass. The bushes that grew in front. The gated yard. A private playground for the one person he loved to hate.

“Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to come in?” the dreaded familiar voice asked. Malik saw the front door creak open, welcoming him. Taunting him. He went inside and the door shut behind him.

“I remember you, do you remember me?”

“You’re a bastard.”

Bakura’s laugh filled the empty room leading Malik up the stairs and into the bathroom where his prey awaited.

He stood in the shower with his hands bound above him in handcuffs. His clothes were neatly folded in a pile on top of the toilet. White hair went down his muscled back and slipped to the side when he turned and addressed Malik.

“I was waiting for you.”

“I came.” he replied slipping out of his own clothing.

“I’m somewhat glad.” Bakura said with a devious grin as he watched the other boy strip. “It would have been quite a disappointment if you had not arrived.”

“You’re not curious as to why?” he asked folding his clothes.

“You dream of me the same that I dream of you.” the yami replied watching Malik’s movements, hardening at the thoughts racing through his mind. Malik stepped into the shower gracefully and smirked at Bakura’s back.

“You’re full of yourself.”

“Oh really.” Bakura replied with a smirk over his shoulder. “Then tell me, why are you here.”

The teen grabbed the yami by the hair and forcefully drew him back against him.

“Stop sending me flowers, you sick fuck!”

Bakura chuckled and licked the side of Malik’s face.

“And here I thought everyone liked receiving flowers.” he murmured in Malik’s ear as he lean back against him. Malik shoved him away from himself receiving yet another chuckle.

“You’re a sick fuck.” he muttered.

“But a particularly good one.” Bakura added.

Again Malik grabbed him by the hair and dragged him against him before attacking the yami’s neck with lips and teeth. He gasped and jerked against the cuffs as tanned hands skimmed down his chest, brushing hard nipples on their journey down.

He tilted his head back allowing Malik more access and was surprised when he ducked under his arms slid up sinuously in front of him. He began where he left off biting and sucking on Bakura’s neck before moving up to his lips as his hands dipped to Bakura’s ass.

The yami gasped as his body was jerked forward in contact with another hard body. The cuffs dug into his skin painfully before Malik lifted him up and circled Bakura’s arms around his neck.

He’s strong, he marveled as Malik ground his hips into the yami’s. His shocked groan was muffled when the Egyptian’s mouth hungrily covered his own. On their own accord, Bakura’s legs wrapped themselves around his lover’s waist.

“You’re right.” Malik gasped pulling their lips apart from one another. “You are good.”

Bakura bucked forward in his arms and the Egyptian struggled to catch his breath as delicious sensations shot through him.

“When you have well over a thousand years under your belt, you tend to be.”

“And what about me?”

The yami smirked before capturing Malik’s lips with his own.

The Egyptian slammed Bakura against the stall’s walls, ramming his solid member into the soft flesh beside the spirit’s own rock-hard cock.

Pressure of their crushed bodies allowed Malik freedom to graze nails up and down the yami’s body. To lick and leave his mark upon him. To finally even the score between them.

A muted click filled the stall then suddenly Malik found Bakura’s fingers tunneling through his hair. With a moan, he wrenched himself free and buried his face into the hollow of Bakura’s neck. The yami chuckled ominously as a cunning gleam appeared in his eyes.

Bakura angled himself so that Malik’s cock aligned perfectly suspended over his puckered entrance. The teen whimpered as he tried to thrust into the yami’s body but Bakura pushed himself up and maintained the scant inches separating their bodies.

“Just remember Tomb Keeper.” The yami whispered “You were the one who wanted this.”

“Yes!” Malik cried as he thrust up again and this time, penetrated Bakura’s body. His lover indulged in a triumphant smirk before yielding to sensation of flesh meeting flesh.

He rocks up into his body with every thrust, gasping and mewling in pleasure. He leaves marks upon marks on pale skin. Lips meet in fierce kisses, teeth clack together and blood taints their tongues.

He comes quickly afterwards, screaming hoarsely from the pleasure/pain ripping through his lithe form. Muscle tensing and twitching, he tries to hold onto the feeling as long as he can. Soon after, numbness follows and Malik feels himself falling.
Falling, falling into warmth and safety.

And now, you’re mine.