Lid'l's Notes: Okay, just so you know, this is kinda AU and the chara's are kinda OOC … but yeah, well, it's a FANfiction. I could make Yami wear a pink tutu, if I'd like to (which I don't, btw ^^U).
Furthermore, I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh or Enigma, nor do I claim to. This applies for this chapter as well as the following (I hate doing disclaimers over and over again). So there you have it.
Enjoy!

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T.N.T for the Brain
By: Lid'l

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Smell your skin
Feel your breath
You on my side
I couldn't resist
I hope I'll understand some day
What's the meaning of this crazy game
It's real … and pure
T.N.T. for the brain
~Enigma

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Prologue

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Tender soft mewls spilled from his lover's lips, two bodies joined as one, creamy pale clutching onto cinnamon in basic instinct, the rub of skin on skin hot on their nerves.

Fingers caressed, entrapped, teased, petted, body against body in the oldest dance known to mankind.

His name dripped from the other's lips in shards of heated, ragged passion, but smooth as the white silk sheets of his bed, the sheer whisper his final release.

He smoothed back hair like snow and plunged deep into the pools of liquid chocolate so invitingly beneath him.

"Do you love me?"

He was greeted by a heart-melting smile and a deep soft kiss on his lips.

"Yes, I do. I love you," was the answer, the other knowing exactly just how much he needed to hear those simple, but often treacherous words. Especially after what he had been through.

They shifted into a more comfortable position for sleeping and Marik draped his cinnamon-tinted arms around the pale boy. His lover drifting off to dreamland, Marik was left twirling soft strands of silver in his fingers reflecting on how things were.

It had all started innocently enough, those six months ago. He had gone to the Bakura household to pick up Yami no Bakura for a wild night on the town, but instead found a tear-stained Ryou at the door that night.

He had raised his eyebrows in a very cool fashion, but secretly had hurt on the inside. He had never seen Bakura's hikari cry, despite him being such a sensitive wimp and the sight made his heart wrench. "So," he said coolly,

"Where's Bakura?"

The name had struck a cord and Ryou's eyes filled up with tears again. "Gone," he whispered hoarsely, trying his best look cool and composed.

"Okay," Marik said shrugging. "I'll wait till he comes back."

Ryou let out a suppressed snivel. "I don't think he's coming back any time soon, Marik."

That piqued the Egyptian's attention. He dropped his though act. "What do you mean, Ryou? Where did he go then?" He forced his way into the apartment, grabbing the crying boy by his arms to get any sense out of him. But all he got were more silent tears.

"He left for Egypt this afternoon, without even saying goodbye. He just left." Despite the fit of tears, Ryou seemed very calm about the matter, his voice quite cold for the normally warm-hearted boy.

"E-Egypt?" Marik stammered. The two of them had talked about it several times, but the Egyptian never had thought Bakura would actually do it, pack his bags and jump on a plane (he also hadn't really expected the holder of the Millennium Ring actually managing to do it, being an ancient Egyptian spirit with no ID whatsoever and all).

"Yes, Egypt!" Ryou spat, violently shrugging off Marik's hands. He rubbed at his eyes, clearing away the tears. "Said he needed to get away. Selfish bastard."

Marik had been surprised. Ryou actually cursed. If he didn't know any better he'd swear the world was coming to an end. He shushed the stressed boy. "Calm down, Ryou."

But it seemed the hikari's world really was coming to an end, finally giving in to the fact his yami had left him and the way it hurt so wretchedly and made him feel so miserably alone. He clung onto Marik like a lifeline in a dark sea of chaos and wetted his shirt with fresh tears.

The Egyptian let the boy, stroking his hair in a soothing manner. Although it wasn't his business what Bakura did and didn't do and he had no right to tell the spirit how to live his un-life, Bakura leaving like that still stabbed at his heart. They had been friends for such a long time he couldn't help but feeling a little betrayed himself.

"Are you feeling any better?" he asked when Ryou had seemingly calmed down.

Ryou looked up to him, red on the cheeks. "Yes, thank you."

"Okay. Then you can let go now, you're squeezing the life out of me."

The pale-haired boy reddened even more and quickly stepped back, allowing Marik some breath. "Sorry," he whispered.

"S'okay," Marik assured him. "Well then. I've got no business here, so …" He turned to leave.

"Wait!" Ryou pleaded, "Would you … mind staying a little longer?"

Marik shrugged. "Why not? I've got no other place to go." Giving the door a boot, he decided it wasn't such a bad idea to spend the evening with the pretty pale-haired boy.

They spent the night just talking about stuff. Silly stuff, heavy-hearted stuff, Bakura stuff and just every-day stuff.

And when he left the apartment late that night, Marik had realized he had had a good time conversing with Ryou.

There was much more to the boy than he'd initially thought.

After that he frequently visited Ryou, who always welcomed him with open arms and a good cup of tea.

Over time, Marik had grown quite fond of the boy.

He remembered one day walking in on Ryou listening to some of Bakura's punk-rock. "You into this?"

"I'm starting to appreciate it," the boy had answered with a smile, "But I prefer something more danceable."

Marik had grinned. "Let's go out tonight. Just you and me. I know this place where they play 'danceable' music."

Ryou blushed. "I don't know Marik."

"C'mon, please?" he pleaded. "Pretty please?" He tried the Puppy Eyes technique, but failed miserably with that mischievous grin on his face.

Ryou chuckled. "Alright then, we'll go."

"Cool. I'll come pick you up at eight."

When he pulled over his motorcycle that night, Marik waited for Ryou to join him at the front of the house. He came out a little flushed and wearing a pair of tight jeans the Egyptian never had thought Ryou would wear. He whistled at the blushing boy. "Looking good, sweetie," he grinned.

"Oh, shut up."

Marik took them to aforementioned club and spent half the night chasing away drooling pervs who wanted a piece of Ryou. Not that he could blame them, the boy was looking hot in those tight jeans and sleeveless black turtleneck.

And when he danced, his hair swayed along with the beat, his arms snaking and hugging and creating many interesting patterns in the clammy air.

"Hey, Marik," Ryou piped, dancing a little closer to the lavender-eyed boy.

"Hmm?" the Egyptian purred, not at all minding the crowd pushing them closer together.

They locked eyes, all the while still bouncing on the rhythm and bathing in flashy lights, the hot atmosphere causing a slight sheen of sweat on their skin. "Why did you take me here?"

Marik had to step closer to not get elbowed by someone who desperately needed to be on the dancefloor. "It seemed like a good idea to me."

"I see." That seemed to wrap it up for Ryou, the boy closing his eyes and loosing himself in the song that had just started playing, Enigma's T.N.T. for the Brain. Marik drank in the sight and sensation of Ryou dancing against him and cursed fate for the accuracy of the lyrics.

*Smell your skin,* an intoxicating mixture of green tea, sandalwood and the slightest wisp of salty sweat.

*Feel your breath,* their closeness caused Ryou's breath to tickle his sensitive skin.

*You on my side,* they brushed together, caught up in the throws of music and each other.

*I couldn't resist…* Marik reached out for those soft, parted lips so tauntingly before him. He frankly couldn't resist placing his lips on them. Not sooner than the moment they had locked lips, Marik pulled away, shocked by his own action. "I-I'm sorry!" he stammered clumsily, "I shouldn't have done that!"

Moving his lean body closer to the Egyptian, Ryou innocently whispered: "I didn't protest, did I?"

Marik was dumbstruck. "You didn't mind?"

Ryou wrapped his arms around the cinnamon-skinned boy, their bodies meeting in the middle of the crowded club. "I like you, Marik. In more ways than one," the boy said before he placed his rosy lips on those of the Egyptian.

Their first real kiss was soft and shy at first, like cotton candy and milk and cookies, but intensifying as their tongues met in the delicious wetness of each other's mouths.

Marik pulled back for breath, and was caught in the adoring chocolate gaze directed at him. But their little moment was interrupted by the shouting of drunken people nearby.

"Let's get out of here," Marik suggested and he took Ryou by the hand, leading him outside, where they smooched some more until Marik took the boy home.

"I'm really glad we went tonight," Ryou said shyly when they had reached his doorstep.

"Yeah," Marik answered, cupping Ryou's cheek, "Me too." He gave him a quick kiss. "Wanna go out for bagels tomorrow?"

Ryou's eyes twinkled. "Like on a date?"

"Hm hm."

"Gladly."

So they parted with a kiss and the Egyptian went back home, where the lights told him Ishizu was still up, probably waiting for him (although she wouldn't ever admit she was worried about him).

He got inside, greeted his sister and went straight into the kitchen for a glass of cool water.

Isis observed him from the doorpost, a knowing smirk on her elegant lips. "Brother," she said with a hint of amusement, "You're glowing!"

"I am?" Marik asked sheepishly, touching his own heated cheeks. He smiled broadly. "I guess I am, huh?" Taking a lean against the counter, he shyly rubbed the back of his neck, blushing. "… I think I'm in love, Ishizu!"

She only smiled tenderly at him.

So his sister had been happy for him. But his yami was a different story all together.

//You're such a fool!//

Marik glared at the golden Millennium Rod hanging from the opposite wall. /Shut up./

//This is never going to work out!//

/What do you know?/ Marik said, tossing his lavender shirt into a corner. He continued undressing and preparing for bed, ignoring his yami's bitching about what an idiot he was and how gladly he would snap the neck of that 'fucking little whore'. //Just got dumped by Bakura and already he's trying to be another one's bitch …//

/Shut up, yami!/ Marik spat, fed up by his dark half's harassment. It was a good thing Yami no Marik (or Ishtar, to some) was trapped inside the Rod, stuck there by the curse of a certain King of Games, so Marik couldn't punch him in the face for being such an jerk (it was also a good thing the spirit was confined, because he would probably get his booty kicked senseless, if he would try to pull such a stunt off Ishtar).

/I'm going to make this work,/ Marik said, before falling asleep that night, /Just you watch …/

His had yami just sneered, but kept silent.

Time passed and things did work out, Marik hugging his lover closer, burying his face in the soft silver mane. He softly nuzzled a pale shoulder, causing Ryou to stir against him.

"Hmm … Marik?"

The Egyptian kissed the pale boy's cheek. "Go to sleep, love," he whispered, adjusting his embrace so Ryou would fit better into his arms.

"Hmm …" Ryou sighed sleepily, and within minutes, he was asleep again. Marik smiled contently.

Yes, things had worked out wonderfully.

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