Taia reached the bottom of the staircase and was about to go through the door to the kitchens. She paused, then froze in shock as the sight before her registered.

Bakura was bent over the kitchen counter. His bare torso lay sprawled across the cool metal surface, long white hair strewn about his shoulders, his arms spread and his palms pressed against the countertop. His head was turned to the side, cheek pressed against the metal. His mouth was slightly open and his jaw slack, and his eyes were closed in the most intensely relaxed expression Taia had ever seen on his face. It was almost blissful.

Marik was leaning over him from behind, his palms pressed against the tabletop and his elbows locked, pumping his hips steadily forward and back. His teeth were clenched and his violet eyes were wide open, staring at Bakura's prostrate form beneath him with something that might have been pleasure but looked more like acute terror. His black tank top was soaked through with perspiration.

As Taia watched, Bakura's features tensed as their owner inhaled sharply. A second later, his unusually peaceful expression returned and he let out a low, guttural moan.

"Ohhhhh, oh, Marrrrikk…"

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly in a self-satisfied smirk. The tempo of the back-and-forth motion grew faster. With each thrust, Marik let out a high-pitched gasp.

"Ah… ah… ah… ah…. Ba… Bakura…. Ah!"

Marik threw his head back, gasping out the dark spirit's name like he was pleading for his life. His whole body tensed, then slowly went limp.

As Marik collapsed against him, Bakura opened his eyes. His expression of leisurely satisfaction instantly became a murderous glare, and with a chill of apprehension Taia realized that he could see her through the window. She turned and fled back down the hallway, hunger forgotten.

Bakura lay still as Marik sprawled sloppily across his back, panting heavily. His eyes were still locked on the door, and his gaze was icy.

"Well, it looks like Taia's about due for a brutal murdering," he muttered. "Now get off of me, you buggering wanker."

Marik floundered his way off the table, then slid to a seated position on the linoleum floor. He noticed his undergarments bunched on the floor beside him and started to slide them on.

"I don't know how you talked me into this," he said. I've told you a thousand times, I'm not gay."

"Right. And I don't have a penetration fetish." Bakura stood, stretching out his shoulders, and turned around. "By the way, you need to learn to relax. That was barely two minutes." He chuckled to himself.

Marik was still on the floor, trying unsuccessfully to wriggle into his tight khakis. He glanced up and then stared, eyes wide, when he noticed what part of Bakura was now situated immediately in front of his face.

"Are… Aren't you going to go kill Taia?" he stammered.

"Oh, I think I can let her have time to finish rubbing one out first. Besides, Marik," Bakura grinned down at him in challenge, hands resting on his hips. "It's bad form to leave your partner hanging."

When he realized what Bakura was hinting at Marik finally broke his gaze away, a flush creeping into his cheeks. He snapped, "Oh, COME ON! As if I would ever…. Three words: Not gonna happen."

"Fine, have it your way." Bakura shrugged and turned to retrieve his own discarded clothing. "You know you'll come around eventually."

"What was that?" Marik asked.

"I hate you, Marik."

"Oh. Um, I hate you too."