Dark Roses

Disclaimer - No, I don't own them. Not unless you count a metaphysical manifestation of a certain thief that can't decide whether he wants to be protective, or drive me nuts.

Author's Notes - Well, after the last few chapters of angst, now we have . . . *drum roll* FLUFF! Yes, that's right folks, it's FLUFF time! Yes, I'm out of my bombshelter . . . I sort of got dragged out by Bakura and LadywolfTerri, who lured me with creme horns. So we have some Malik fluff, some Marik fluff, and some . . . well . . . FLUFF! And a lemon, although you'll have to read to see who it's between. Of course, there is still some angst. When do I write something that isn't angsty? Oh, forget that question . . . when I'm on a sugar high.
Anyway, enjoy the chapter and don't forget to review, please.

Chapter 9 – Stolen Moments


For a moment, he thought he was still asleep with his eyes closed. The darkness was enveloping, smothering, and he started to hyperventilate as he realized it wasn’t a dream . . . he was awake, his eyes were open, and it was completely dark.

There was movement beside him, and he started to panic. Had the last two years been nothing but a dream? Was he really still back in his father’s house, unconscious beside someone else who had used him after paying for him?

He must have whimpered, or made some sound, because the body next to his shifted again, and a soft light suddenly came on, showing him soft brown eyes under snowy bangs, the worried look in them obvious even in his panic.

“Malik? Are you okay?” Ryou whispered. He couldn’t force his voice past his heart in his throat, and he shook his head as he tried to fight back the panic that had arisen in him.

Ryou lightly brushed the blonde bangs away from the wide lavender eyes, concerned. Yugi shifted on the other side, rising up on one elbow to look around sleepily. They had come in here to keep Malik company, in case he woke up and didn’t remember where he was. It seemed like it had been a good idea.

“Ryou? Malik? What’s going on?” he murmured.

“It’s Malik . . . something frightened him,” Ryou replied quietly. Finally, Malik was able to force the words past his pale lips.

“The dark,” he husked. “I can’t stand the dark.” Understanding flooded Ryou’s eyes, and he lay back down carefully; not too close, but enough so that Malik would know he wasn’t alone. Yugi also lay down, one hand reaching out gently to rest over the thundering heart, and Ryou rested his hand atop that one so that they both held him in a loose embrace without crowding him.

“We didn’t know,” Ryou whispered. “I’m sorry.” Malik shook his head, a sigh leaving his body as he finally managed to get the panic back under control.

“You couldn’t have,” he murmured, staring up at the ceiling. “It’s . . . just something I’m afraid of, is all. Father . . . the rooms where he loaned me out were always so dark . . .” He shuddered for a moment before calming, turning his mind to other things. “Why aren’t the two of you with Yami and Bakura? I thought . . .” He stopped, unsure of quite how to phrase his statement. Yugi, however, finished the thought for him.

“Yami and Bakura are our love’s, but between all of us we have a very open relationship,” the tri-haired youth murmured. “They sleep together on occasion . . . when they need it a bit rough, or just a change of pace. Ryou and I do as well. We . . . damn it, what’s that phrase again, Ryou?” Ryou laughed quietly.

“Swinging, Yugi. It’s called ‘swinging’. Where couples exchange partners on occasion. Only we seem to do it on a regular basis around here.” He smiled a bit, meeting the lavender gaze that had turned to gaze at him, confused. “We’re in very solid relationships, Malik. As long as our love’s agree, we may sleep with who we like. They have the same leeway. But we keep it within our circle of friends . . . because those are who we trust.” He shrugged slightly, a brief rise and fall of one pale shoulder. “Some people might think it’s odd, but it works for us. We all care about each other a great deal . . . sex is merely physical. Yami and Bakura know they hold our hearts, just as we hold theirs. It’s no big deal.”

Malik shook his head, really unable to comprehend such reasoning. If you loved someone, didn’t you want to only be with that one person? That’s what all the stories said . . . but then again, he’d learned that the stories about happily ever after were lies anyway, so why was it so hard for him to accept?

“It takes some getting used to,” Yugi said from the other side of him, causing him to turn his gaze to the diminutive tri-haired youth. “I know I was positively astonished when I approached Yami on it, when I first discovered I desired Ryou. When he simply shrugged and told me to go for it, I was actually hurt. I thought he didn’t love me enough to want me all to himself, that he was so willing to allow me to make love to someone else, or to be made love to by someone else. But it’s really a matter of trust . . . he knows I love him, as I know he loves me. But I care about Ryou and Bakura . . . and Marik, when he lets us close enough to do so. So sex with them is like having sex with a close friend . . . no strings attached, just us caring about each other enough to trust each other so much.”

“I . . . think I understand,” Malik murmured after several moments of deep thought. “It’s just . . . different, is all. That much trust . . . it’s so new to me. I don’t know if I could ever trust someone so much.” Ryou smiled slightly before moving slowly, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on his lips. He gave him more than enough warning, and plenty of time to move if he didn’t want the intimate caress, but Malik found that, just once, he needed it. He needed to feel loved, even if on such a small scale.

He gasped as he felt a soft, gentle hand move under his shirt, caressing his bare skin and leaving light trails of warmth across the flesh. It was so different from what he was used to . . . so gentle compared to the roughness of the caresses he was accustomed to receiving from those who had paid his father for his body. There was another hand playing with his hair, massaging at his scalp gently, helping him to feel unthreatened.

Muscle slid against muscle, exploring moist caverns delicately, tentatively. Warm lips pressed against the side of his throat, suckling there lightly, creating a warmth in him that he couldn’t quite describe. Gods, what were they doing to him?

A hand brushed against his erection, and he suddenly froze, stiffening between them. They both drew back immediately, looking down at him in concern as he fought off another wave of panic that threatened to drag him under.

“Malik? Oh no . . .” Ryou whispered, his chocolate eyes darkening. “We’re sorry, we moved too fast . . .” Malik shook his head, pulling them both into him, burying his face in the snowy white hair, which strangely carried a hint of vanilla.

“It’s okay,” he murmured after a moment, the panic finally receding again with their concern. “Just . . . there are too many memories, too many nights spent . . . under someone . . .” He shifted uneasily, feeling Yugi cuddle up to his side. “I should be the one apologizing. It’s just . . . it’s too soon. This is all so new to me . . . I don’t even understand why . . . why you would want to . . .” He couldn’t quite get the words out, his father’s words echoing in his ears down the painful corridor of time and memory.

“Don’t you realize how beautiful you are?” Yugi whispered, twining his fingers lightly with Malik’s, offering that small gesture of comfort. “How could we not want you? But you’re right . . . it is too soon. You barely even know us . . .” He leaned up as Malik smiled sadly, looking down in concern on the aquiline features.

“I know you’d never hurt me,” he replied quietly, reaching up to brush a hand across one pale cheek absently. “That’s really all that matters to me.” They lay there in silence after that, merely growing more comfortable in each other’s presence as the night passed quietly around them.


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


In a room down the hall, two figures moved against each other, sweat and soft moans accompanying gentle movement in a timeless dance.

“Bakura . . .” Yami moaned, as his pale lover brushed that spot deep inside him with deadly accuracy. “Gods . . . when did you get so gentle?” Bakura chuckled, pausing in his thrust to stare down at Yami, the magenta eyes strangely warm for the usually cool teenager.

“I can’t do rough tonight, Yami,” he murmured, a groan escaping his lips as Yami shifted upward against him, impatient with the pause. “Not after this afternoon . . . not after hearing that.” Yami nodded in understanding, pulling the delicate face down for a soft kiss, full of passion and promise, and just a hint of love.

He and Bakura had been lover’s even before they had met Yugi and Ryou. They understood each other, even if they didn’t always see eye to eye on how to handle things. In each other they had found comfort when the rest of the world seemed to simply not care about them, and that was still true, even if their heart’s belonged to someone else. And Bakura was a skilled lover . . . his method’s different, but the product was the same. Tonight, neither of them had wanted to be alone . . . not after Malik’s tale that afternoon.

They’d agreed that Malik shouldn’t wake up alone, however. In a strange house, after the emotional day he had been through, that could have been disastrous. Yugi and Ryou were the most non-threatening individuals out there, and they seemed to have struck some sort of chord with Malik, so it hadn’t been a big issue for them to go stay with him. But after that horrifying story of a father’s betrayal of his son, sleeping alone that night had simply not been an option. So they had turned to each other . . . they had thought of inviting Marik, but with the mood the blonde was in, he was likely to turn them down anyway.

It was obvious that Marik had been the most disturbed by Malik’s story. Whether it was how closely it aligned with his own in some cases, or the fact that their blonde friend had obviously connected on an entirely different level with his look-alike they couldn’t be sure. In either case, he was not in one of those moods that would allow him to open up and simply let go of the shields he kept around himself. So they had left him alone, and retreated together to spend the night in each other’s arms.

“I understand, ‘Kura,” Yami whispered as the kiss broke off. “Trust me, I understand. But if you don’t move, and soon, I’m taking matters into my own hands.” One snowy eyebrow rose in response . . . of course Bakura would take that as a challenge.

Yami gasped as Bakura thrust, his back arching upwards as his sweet spot was hit with dangerous accuracy once again, his nails digging lightly into pale shoulders as his lover did it once more seconds later. A moan was torn from his throat, his head falling back against the pillows as sharp teeth nipped at the flesh between shoulder and throat, before Bakura leaned over him to take one nipple in his teeth, teasing the ring there with his tongue as he shifted his position to allow a different, deeper angle into Yami’s heat.

A ragged shout accompanied the sudden sensation of a hand taking hold of his aching length, pumping it gently in time with the slowly increasing pace of thrusting hips. Crimson eyes stared up into magenta as tan hands crept up to tangle in silver-white hair, seeing the lurking darkness behind those vivid eyes as Bakura pulled back to thrust deeper, a low growl beginning in the pale teenager’s chest with each movement.

“Yami . . .” he whispered hoarsely. “Oh gods . . .”

“Let it go, ‘Kura. We may not be heart’s loves, but I still love you, my friend,” Yami said quietly, gasping it out in panting breaths as he felt his release hovering near.

“I . . . love you too . . . Yami . . .”the thief murmured. With a guttural shout, he buried himself deep, spilling his release into velvet heat as Yami arched upwards, his own cry echoing within Bakura’s as his release hit him seconds afterwards.

They lay spent in each other’s arms for a long while afterward, tan fingers threading through pale hair as Bakura lay with his head upon Yami’s chest, listening absently to the heart beating within.

“Do you think he’ll ever be okay?” Bakura murmured suddenly, breaking the silence. Yami sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

“There’s a lot of damage there, ‘Kura,” he replied quietly after a moment. “If anyone can help him, we can . . . but it’s not going to be easy. However, that doesn’t mean I’m going to give up. There’s a rose within that tangle of thorns. . . we just have to show it the light again.” Bakura sighed, finally relaxing fully against the golden skin, one hand reaching down to snag the blanket that had gotten tossed rather hastily to one side, pulling it up and handing it to Yami for him to complete the movement.

They drifted off to sleep after that, both thinking about the newest addition to their makeshift family, and wondering how they could possibly set about getting through to the rose Yami had mentioned. One thing was certain . . . if they could do it, it would be worth every ounce of effort they put into it. Of that, they were sure.


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


Marik stood beside the windows of the den, staring out at the flickering lights of the city, deep in thought. He looked like a dark avenger standing there, with the city lights throwing his form into shadow, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall on one shoulder.

Their plan was in motion, and everything was falling into place nicely . . . but it was a temporary measure at best. Eventually, Malik’s father would discover his son was no longer with his siblings, and he would find his way back to Domino. When that happened, they would have a problem on their hands.

Malik couldn’t hide forever . . . his father would have to be dealt with. But how to deal with the second most powerful man in the Middle-East? Especially one with such a shining reputation? Simply having Malik testify against him wouldn’t work . . . if anything, it would only traumatize the youth further. There had to be another way . . . but what?

Turning from the window, he strode across the hardwood floor to take a seat before the fire . . . the seat in which Malik had confessed his dark secrets to them that very afternoon. He could still feel the echoes of the rage that had threatened to consume him as Malik’s words had flowed out of the youth like poison.

How could any father do that to his own son? True, his own father had beat him senseless any number of times, and had nearly killed him a good half-dozen of those, but at least his body and mind had remained his own. Malik’s father had turned his son over to monsters, for money, to further his own career.

There had to be some way to ensnare the man in his own web of darkness. But he had at least a few weeks, if not months, in which to think and plan. And he would plan. He wouldn’t allow that man to get a hold of Malik again . . . not until he was a stinking, rotting corpse in a dark alley somewhere. He owed it to himself . . . and to the boy who had reached his soul.

With a sigh, he arose, dousing the fire and leaving the house in darkness before stalking silently through to his own room. He wouldn’t be returning to Seto’s tonight . . . actually, he doubted he would be returning to Seto’s at all. There was no reason to anymore . . . not when what he wanted was here.

That was the only reason he had moved in with Seto, and not Yami, when he’d been offered a place to stay. Seto was a loner, like him . . . Yami had Yugi, and Bakura had Ryou. Yes, he and Seto were never excluded, but it wasn’t the same. He hadn’t wanted to be around such obvious love all the time. But now . . . now, his heart had found its match, and he couldn’t be comfortable at Seto’s anymore. Not when he now understood what Yami and Bakura had been telling him all along.

His room was a silent haven, and as he lay down on the bed, fully dressed, he hoped that his heart wasn’t leading him down the wrong path.