Encroach

by Jem Kallop

Marik and Bakura finally have some peace, living a comfortable life together in a shared apartment. But they would be wise to remember that they are not alone in their bodies, as the spirits locked away in the soul rooms are getting restless. Marik and Bakura will not be at peace for long. Thiefshipping and deathshipping, rated for violence and language.

1. Chapter 1

Now, I know that those of you who read my other stories are probably thinking: 'What? She's starting another one? But she hasn't even finished her other fics yet!" To which my reply is: I'm an idiot. Aheh. Basically, this new chaptered story is being written for purely selfish reasons, because I love the idea and it won't leave me alone. Of course, this doesn't mean that my other stories will be ignored, as I will absolutely still be updating them and they WILL be finished, so look out for those too if you're interested. ^_^

So, onto the new idea! This plot came from the wonderful CursiveBlade13, who is a dear friend to me. She gave me a great idea and it kept growing and growing in my skull until it became this monster, which will really not leave me alone. It's AU, but Marik and Bakura still share bodies with Yami Marik and Ryou Bakura respectively, and the Millennium Rod and the Millennium Ring exist. There is thiefshipping and deathshipping, with established thiefshipping right from the start, and I'm hoping it will be updated fairly regularly (depending on what my health is doing). So, after that monster of an AN, I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Rated M for violence and bad language. At the moment I have no plans to write smut in this story, but I will let you know at the start of each chapter if that changes. There are obvious mentions of established boy/boy relationships, though. ^_^

Disclaimer: No suing me, please. I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, Kazuki Takahashi does. XD

Chapter 1

"Marik, where the fuck are the scissors?!"

Bakura stormed out of the kitchen and through the living room, attempting to track down the only other man who lived there. Fists clenched by his sides as Bakura stalked through the rooms, still not finding Marik. "Where the fuck are you?"

"Calm down, Bakura, I'm in the bathroom!" A nasally, irritating voice floated through the air. Bakura growled when he caught amusement in its tone. "Can't you live without me for five minutes?"

Bakura snarled. "Insolent brat." In truth, his heart instantly calmed when he heard Marik's voice and knew where he was, but there was no way Bakura was about to admit that; Marik's ego was already inflated enough. Instead, Bakura leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, ensuring to include just the right amount of venom in his tone. "You've been in my kitchen again and the scissors are gone. Where the fuck are they?"

"I don't know," Marik chorused brightly. The sound of the toilet flushing sounded through the walls and then the door opened wide, revealing a blond dark man with a bright grin. He smirked when he caught sight of Bakura hovering over him. "Have you checked the pantry?"

"Why the hell would they be in the pantry?" Bakura glowered.

"Why wouldn't they be?" Marik grinned, watching with amusement as Bakura's temper flared again. "It's where I always put them."

Bakura snapped. "Yeah, and it's always where I tell you not to put them, because it makes no fucking sense! The pantry is for food. Food goes in the pantry, nothing else, so why the hell you feel the need to put scissors in there will never fail to frustrate me."

"Good." Marik's lips stretched, his expression practically beaming happiness, which only served to make Bakura's glower deepen. "I have made it my personal life goal to keep you frustrated."

Bakura growled dangerously, advancing, but Marik retreated with a bright laugh into the living room, calling over his shoulder, "Hurry up and make dinner, slave! I'm hungry!"

"Oh fuck no." Bakura strode deliberately after Marik, easily catching up with him in the living room. Marik quickly darted around the other side of the sofa, his laughing violet gaze alighting on Bakura's deep brown glare, grin resplendent across his features.

"Catch me if you can!" Marik taunted, retreating as Bakura advanced, keeping the sofa between them as a safety net. Bakura growled and moved quickly, feinting left whilst running right and finally getting around the sofa. He backed Marik up with a feline grace, his lips twisting up into a smirk as his eyes narrowed to predatory slits.

"You shouldn't taunt a hunter, Marik," Bakura practically purred. "You should know that by now."

Shivers racked down Marik's spine at the low, seductive tone, but he kept his cool with an arrogant tilt of his head. "And you should know better than to underestimate me." With a final wicked grin, Marik darted away from Bakura and through towards the kitchen, tossing over his shoulder, "Make me food, asshole!"

"Fucking brat!" sounded from behind Marik as he shot across the room, but he barely made it three steps before a heavy weight crashed into his back and he was sent tumbling to the floor.

"There," Bakura's deep dark voice growled. Marik panted heavily, attempting to twist only for Bakura to grab his shoulders and hold him down, leaning over him. "Behave yourself, Marik. You've been difficult enough as it is today."

"I've been difficult? You're the one refusing to make me food." Marik squirmed against the carpet until Bakura flipped him over, his back landing on the carpet instead.

Bakura straddled Marik's hips and leered down at him, his hands landing on the carpet either side of Marik's head. Marik's breath caught in his throat when Bakura's fingers brushed across his face, delicious waves of happiness rolling along his veins the closer Bakura got to him.

"What was that about food?" Bakura murmured, hovering tantalisingly close to Marik. "Did you want me to go?"

Marik hissed, arching off the floor and grabbing Bakura's face between his palms. "I did. Now I want you right where you are."

Bakura's smirk remained firmly in place even as Marik pulled him down into a long, deep kiss. They rolled across the carpet, Marik's fingers moving to tangle in Bakura's hair when pale fingers found their way around a dark back, swiping softly at scarred skin. Marik deepened the kiss, his tongue tracking down Bakura's with a low chuckle. They exchanged kisses and soft touches until both were tired and lay curled happily together on the carpet, Bakura's head on Marik's chest, limbs entangled.

"This carpet is horrid." Marik's lips pursed, his brows furrowing as he surveyed the tattered, threadbare flooring around them. "We need to get a new one."

Bakura snorted softly, keeping his eyes closed. "It isn't exactly meant to be seen from this angle, idiot."

"Don't jump me then," Marik sniffed. He ran an absentminded hand through Bakura's hair as he continued talking, his nose upturning unpleasantly. "It's a horrid colour. Who picks grey for a carpet?"

"As opposed to purple?" Bakura scoffed.

Marik ignored him. "I mean, really, grey just sucks all the colour out. Even blue would be better, and that's a rubbish colour unless you're wearing it. Even then it is questionable."

Bakura elbowed him.

"We need a warm colour." Marik poked Bakura's stomach before continuing, his head tilting to the side. "Red, or yellow, something like that. Something that actually makes it feel like – AH!"

Bakura's eyes flew open and in an instant he was upright, his body automatically assuming the crouching stance of a hunter. He stared with worried eyes down at Marik, who still lying on the floor with one hand cradling his forehead. "What is it?"

"My head..." Marik trailed off with a grimace, his breathing heavy. He visibly flinched.

Bakura was beside him in a second, crouched with one hand extended to rest on his shoulder. "What is it? Does it hurt?"

"I..." Marik shook his head, blinking his eyes open and hiding the pain in their depths. "I'm fine. Just hungry." He gave a sheepish grin. "So you should go make that food. Asshole."

Bakura summoned up his traditional smirk, although his eyes were still clouded with worry. "You shouldn't have distracted me."

"You were the one who jumped me," Marik started with a small grin. "So don't you even bother trying to shift the bl-" He winced, a sharp hiss escaping his lips.

Bakura watched him quietly before extending an arm and pulling Marik to his feet. "You're just hungry. Sit down and I'll cook."

"I'm fine." Marik swayed a little when he was back on his feet, leaning gratefully against Bakura and closing his eyes. "Just tired."

Bakura pursed his lips but didn't argue. He wrapped an arm about Marik's shoulders and led him slowly into the kitchen, sitting him down on a chair before proceeding to make them dinner.

They ate with a usual mix of their teasing banter, but Marik still occasionally grimaced in pain, one hand often going to massage his forehead. Bakura watched and noted each small incident, finishing off his food with quick snaps of his jaw, his gaze constantly trained on Marik. Shows of emotion, even pain, between the two were rare, so Bakura did not take lightly even one little grimace that crossed Marik's features.

Once they had both finished – Marik's food only really picked at, despite his claims of hunger – Bakura disposed of both their plates and wordlessly placed a packet of headache tablets and a glass of water in front of Marik before continuing through to the living room. Marik sent him a small, grateful smile, downing the tablets. He waited a few moments before standing up slowly from the table, resting clenched fists against the wood with closed eyes, tension in every muscle. He moved slowly, dizzily, waiting for the world to stop spinning before placing the glass carefully on the counter. Marik turned and headed back into the living room, smile lighting his features when he saw Bakura sprawled out on the sofa in front of a film. Bakura caught his eye and smirked, beckoning.

Marik went to him wordlessly, curling up beside him on the sofa. Their legs entangled naturally, their arms winding around each other and heads resting together, Marik burying his aching forehead in Bakura's chest.

"Fucking bastard," Bakura muttered in his ear, the pale fingers stroking softly through Marik's hair a direct contrast to his words.

Marik smiled, burrowing further into Bakura. "Love you too."

"Sappy bollocks." Bakura pulled Marik closer to him, though, lightly nuzzling the blond head resting against his own. The two of them watched the film through to its end, a second starting as the sun dipped ever lower below the horizon. Marik grew more and more tense the longer the film went on. He curled closer to Bakura, burying his head in his clothing, breathing in the painfully familiar scent and releasing a low growl.

Bakura sighed loudly. "What's wrong with you, idiot?"

"My damn head." Marik grunted, clutching at his temples as he lay close to Bakura. "It really hurts."

"You took those tablets, right?" Bakura carefully kept the worry out of his tone as he held Marik closer, lightly massaging the skin of his forehead.

Marik growled in response, lying on Bakura for another moment before jumping away and landing on his feet, instantly walking out of the living room. "I'm going to the bathroom."

Bakura watched him leave with worry folding his features, not that he would ever allow Marik to see that. After a few minutes and a low grumble, Bakura clambered to his feet and wandered after his foolish Egyptian partner, lips pursing and footsteps heavy. Bakura entered the hallway and stopped outside the bathroom door, cocking his head as he attempted to listen. "Ishtar?"

Silence.

"Ishtar? Are you alright?" Bakura closed the distance to the bathroom door and knocked loudly, once. There was still no immediate response.

Bakura sighed, frustrated. "Marik, I swear, if you ignore me I am going to break that door down and drag you out here, and then you're going to be sorry. Headache or not, you had better explain yourself.

There was a startled squeak, followed by a harsh cry. "Don't come in!"

Bakura blinked.

That voice was nothing like Marik's usual light-hearted tones. It was heavy and harsh, grating more than normal as it rocketed through the air, the words dropping like stones straight to the bottom of Bakura's stomach. The pale man frowned, his hands curling into fists by his sides as he leaned against the door, worry starting to clench his gut.

"Marik, why can't I come in?" Bakura headbutted the door, growling. "What's wrong with you now?"

There was a sniff. "N-nothing's wrong. Just go do the washing up and get ready for bed, I'll be out soon."

Bakura's jaw clicked. He disliked being told what to do at the best of times, but this was something altogether new; Marik had never before pushed Bakura away when he had a problem. In fact, oftentimes the situation was the almost exact opposite, as Marik would complain at Bakura over every tiny thing until the pale man was about ready to murder someone. Which he often did.

This was new behaviour indeed.

Still, Bakura did not necessarily have to panic right away. With one final whack on the door, Bakura grunted, "Fine, do whatever the hell you like. But you'd better get your ass into bed quickly, or there will be consequences, I promise you."

There was no response, again unusual, but Bakura dismissed it easily enough. Marik always had strange moods. He turned with a flick of white hair and re entered the kitchen, filling the sink with hot water and begrudgingly washing the dishes, knowing how much Marik liked to keep their apartment tidy. The Ring clattered around his neck as he worked but Bakura largely ignored it, wanting nothing to do with it or its weak inhabitant, despite him being the original owner of this body. It was Bakura's now, and he had absolutely no intention of giving up control.

The dishes were soon done so Bakura traipsed his way out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, expecting to find Marik curled up in a ball on his side of the bed. The room was empty and the sheets cold, however, so Bakura tilted his head and frowned, lips pursing. "Ishtar? Hell, you're not still in the bathroom, are you?"

When the flat rang silent and cold, Bakura turned on his heel and strode straight back to the bathroom, giving the door a commanding knock. "Marik. Get the hell out here right now."

There was still no response.

"Marik." Bakura was usually a very patient man, but whenever the end of his tether came into sight it was usually because Marik was around. This was really taking the piss, though; Marik very rarely pushed Bakura this far. The flat felt cold, empty, and silent, the lights dimmed in the fast encroaching night and the air frozen and still in the cool of the evening.

Bakura frowned. "It's late, Marik. Have you fallen asleep in there?"

There was still no response and Bakura felt the beginnings of true anger stirring in his stomach.

"Ishtar, get the fuck out here! You really don't want to make me pick the lock. Fucking hell, you'd better not be hurt or dead, or I swear I'm going to kill you." With furious steps and a futile attempt to ignore the panic coiling in his gut, Bakura strode right up to the door and easily picked the lock, grasping the handle in one hand.

"Don't come in."

Bakura instantly froze.

That voice was dark and terrifyingly familiar. It was Marik's, but it wasn't Marik's. It throbbed with a low, deep, dark intensity, deeper even than Bakura's own, but it retained the vibrant tone of Marik's voice, using the same vocal chords for a different personality. It hummed through the air almost seductively, leaving shimmering patterns of fear in its wake. Even those three simple words sounded electric and terrifying in the cold empty air of the flat.

Bakura swore under his breath.

There was a low chuckle. "Ah, you know who I am, then? That is good. No messy introductions needed."

That dark voice was completely unmistakable; such a dark, warped version of Marik's own could never come from the young man's own spirit. It may be using his lips, but it certainly wasn't Marik. That thought alone caused a coil of anger to burst through Bakura's veins.

"No words to greet me? No hello?" The voice taunted, and Bakura could have sworn it sounded closer. He almost jumped, only his finely honed thief's reflexes keeping him in place, as his mind raced over several different possibilities of the best way to get out of this situation without either himself or Marik getting hurt.

At the moment, Bakura was drawing a blank.

"I'm sure you can do better than that." The dark voice was tinged with amusement, but it was all wrong. Marik was meant to be laughing at Bakura, Marik should be the one approaching the bathroom door and turning the handle, tugging on the wood to cause it to swing open. It should be Marik Bakura was met with when he sent narrowed dark eyes in a deep glare at the figure standing in the door. A figure who most certainly wasn't Marik.

Lips stretched into a wide, wicked grin as darkened violet eyes glinted cruelly through the rapidly darkening apartment. "Well, hello there, Ring Spirit. Long time, no see."

Bakura swore loudly, wasting no more time as he flung himself at the evil form before him. "What the fuck are you doing here, you bastard? Get Marik back out here, now."

"Fuck no." The dark being caught Bakura's wrists, easily flinging him back; Bakura had forgotten how much stronger Marik's body was than his own borrowed pale form. He landed in a mess of tangled white hair against the opposite wall of the hallway. Spitting curses, Bakura nursed the back of his head before slowly climbing to his feet again, resting against the wall for support and waiting for the world to stop spinning. He studied the form in the doorway.

Blond hair spiked wildly as a brown head whipped around, dark violet eyes narrowing, picking out the details in the apartment with furrowed brows. "Where the fuck is this? Is -" he went quiet before a grin split his face in two, lips pulled back over teeth in a feral expression Marik's features had never known before. Bakura felt a sick twist in his gut. Marik's body should not be forced to look so ... so un-Marik-like.

"He's living with you, isn't he?" The dark being's dark voice tinged further with amusement as he sent chilling violet eyes towards Bakura. "My weak half is weak indeed to rely on someone like you. What the fuck do the two of you think you're doing?"

"Shut the hell up!" Bakura pursed his lips in thought, considering the form before him with a tilt of his head. Getting Marik back was top priority. Bakura didn't think past that.

Snarling, Bakura advanced on the dark being before him, only receiving an amused violet stare in return. "Give him back," Bakura started quietly. "Go back to your soul room and stay there."

Lips stretched. "Like fuck. Get out of my way – I'm going out."

"The hell you are." Bakura instantly placed himself between Marik's body and the front door, his eyes narrowing into a taunting stare. "Nice to have some freedom, is it? You won't have it for long, and you certainly won't be leaving this apartment."

Dark violet eyes narrowed. Bakura dropped into an anticipatory crouch, his fists clenching subtly as he tilted his head, continuing to taunt. "I know what it's like, locked away in the shadows of a mind. Boring, cold, and painful. I bet right now you're dizzy; suddenly being swamped by feelings and senses again is rather disorientating." Bakura's lips twitched into a smirk. "Shame you won't get to feel it for long."

A snarl ripped between Marik's lips as the dark being launched himself at Bakura. Bakura was ready for him, easily dodging to the side and catching his arms around Marik's waist, flinging his body onto the floor and landing on his back. This situation perfectly mirrored Bakura and Marik's teasing actions earlier, but this time it was all wrong. It may have been his body, but it wasn't Marik himself writhing underneath Bakura.

"Give him back." Bakura snarled the words right into the dark being's ear, holding him firmly against the carpet. The dark body seemed to lie submissive beneath him, blond hair flattening a little when Bakura's fingers wound around the back of his neck, squeezing roughly. Bakura hissed. "Now. Give Marik back now, you fiend."

Silence held for another moment before the dark voice chuckled. Chuckled. "That's right, Ring Spirit. Keep hurting Marik. I'm sure he just loves you for that."

Bakura froze. "What the fuck are you talking about, bastard?"

"Isn't it obvious?" There was certainly laughter in the dark, horrid voice. "Every time you hurt me, you hurt Marik. So carry on, please! Anything you can do to weaken him will help me."

Bakura cursed loudly, instantly jumping off the dark being. Bakura whirled to face him the moment he was back on his feet, deliberately keeping himself between the door and Marik's body, eyes narrowed with hatred as they looked at the sprawled mass on the floor.

Dark violet eyes laughed up at him.

It took the evil half of Marik less than a second to be back facing Bakura, leering with dancing violet eyes. "Now what are you going to do? Can't hurt me without hurting him."

"Maybe not," Bakura snarled, dropping back into a crouch. "But there is no way in hell I am letting you leave until you have given him back."

Brown features instantly dropped, expression becoming a dark, severe glower. The dark being twisted Marik's lips, facing Bakura with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows, advancing one, two steps without pause. "You can't hurt me," he leered, dark voice twisted with evil. "But I can hurt you. And you can't fight back!"

Before Bakura had time to move, the dark being was on top of him, lifting him easily and slamming him back into a wall. Bakura's eyes widened in shock. Marik's lips were stretched unnaturally wide, teeth glistening as the dark one slammed Bakura's head against the wall once, twice, relishing in the crack that resounded from the pale skull. Red dripped into white hair and Bakura's eyes glazed over, only causing the dark one to crack his head against the wall again.

The sensations were incredible.

The dark version of Marik had spent so long trapped in his soul room that he forgot how skin felt beneath his fingers, the beauty of blood as it dripped down fragile skin, the sheer power he gained when controlling another person. The fact that it was this Ring Spirit, someone who meant so much to Marik, only served to increase the sense of power that washed through his newly acquired veins.

Let him go!

Marik's voice was feeble and faint, locked somewhere deep in the back of the dark one's head. Lips widened into a grin. There was no way such a weak little spirit could get control back over this body now; Marik's pleading only made the dark one want to hurt Bakura more. Brown fingers wrapped around a pale neck, slamming him back into the wall again. There was a nasty crack.

Release him at once!

Marik was sounding more frantic. Good. He was going to enjoy this. Bakura was picked up bodily, hoisted further up against the wall and slammed back against it viciously. Blood dripped through white hair, brown eyes glazing over. Darkly tanned hands wound around a pale neck, squeezing viciously. Oh, the feeling of cracking bones, knowing how easily he could snap the fragile skin, red blood dripping down onto the floor past the broken and bleeding body...

No!

The scream in his head was painful in its intensity. The dark being was forced to release the pale neck without his consent, his body convulsing back a step before dropping down to the floor. A growl tore through his lips and he fought furiously, pushing back that tiny voice, quashing it absolutely. "Stay the fuck out of this!"

He had been distracted too long.

Bakura, bleeding and coughing and gasping for breath, launched himself forwards and toppled Marik's body over, forcing both of them down onto the carpet. Wheezing and gasping for breath, red fingerprints standing out vividly on his neck, Bakura pinned Marik's body by the simple expedient of lying on top of him, focusing on the weak spots in his body, jabbing an elbow into the crook of his neck.

"Give him back."

Bakura's tone was low and cracked, but commanding. Dark violet eyes scoffed up at him, brown lips twisting into a sneer as the body beneath him bucked. "Get the fuck off me."

"Marik." Bakura's voice was raspier than usual as he leaned closer, searching through those evil eyes to seek out the man he knew was hidden in there. "Marik, fight him off. I know you're still in there."

The eyes widened in horror. A screech sounded from the lips and the body convulsed, limbs flailing and legs kicking, but Bakura held him down.

Let me out let me out LET ME OUT

No! Stay the hell out of this! You are too weak!

It's my body!

Not anymore!

Get OUT, body snatcher!

And then the body went slack.

Bakura gasped and peeled back blond hair, his throat constricting with fear. What if Marik was gone? What if he had lost him forever? Bakura couldn't cope with that, he could never let that happen, not now, not after everything...

The head turned and wide violet eyes found his face, the chest heaving with sharp shallow breaths. "Bakura ... oh, thank the Gods, he didn't kill you..."

Bakura visibly dropped with relief when the familiar nasally tone reached his ears. He ducked his head and pressed his forehead against Marik's, drinking in the sight of him, his previously hard touches turning gentle and caressing. "Marik."

Violet eyes slid closed before he forced them open again. "It's me, but I don't know for how long ... he's going to come back, ah..."

"Shhh." Bakura cradled him, pressing light kisses to his forehead, clutching him tightly. "I won't let him come back. I won't let him take you away again."

"You can't stop him," Marik whispered, fear encroaching his tone. "I can't keep him away, and you can't stop him. He'll be back..."

"Then I will deal with him, and I'll get you back." Bakura's tone turned dark and he held Marik close, rocking him gently.

Marik shook. "He's coming. Oh Gods, he's furious ... Bakura, help me..."

"I'm here." Bakura gripped Marik's hair and forced the brown man to look at him, gazes meeting with a ferocious intensity. "He isn't going to win. I'm going to get you back."

"Promise me not to get hurt," Marik commanded. "Promise me."

Bakura growled, pressing his forehead against Marik's and glaring at him. "I promise I will do whatever it takes to get you back out here. I'm not living with that monster."

"He'll hurt you – ah..." Marik writhed under Bakura, squeezing his eyes shut. "Ow, no, go away..."

"I've got you." Bakura turned Marik back towards him, bending down to brush their lips together. "I've got you."

Marik kissed him back desperately, fingers fumbling in white hair. Bakura took that as a good sign and dived closer, so deep in the kiss that he didn't notice features morphing under him, blond hair spiking into thick chunks, violet eyes darkening and flying open. Bakura was forced out of his trance only when the grip in his hair turned painful, deliberately tugging out strands of white hair and causing Bakura's eyes to water. Bakura's heart sank when a laughing, dark violet gaze met his own.

"Fuck." Bakura jumped back into the air and away from the dark one's grip, backing up as fast as he could. He wiped his mouth off, retaining the feeling of Marik's lips on his, and not the evil being before him now who was advancing steadily with a wide, wicked grin. Bakura mentally cursed when his back met a wall.

A brown head tilted to the side, blond locks falling in wild tangles down an exposed neck. Lips twisted into a sneer, pulling back over white teeth as dark violet eyes laughed cruelly at the pale man opposite him.

"Oh, poor little Ring Spirit. What on earth are you going to do now?"

So, there's a start! This story is going to get pretty dark. Now, it isn't that I don't like writing happy fluff, because I ADORE writing happy fluff, but in order to write it well you need to be in a happy, fluffy mood, which I am really not in right now. Stupid health. So yes, new story to help cultivate my darker side. XD Thanks a lot for reading and I hope you enjoyed! - Jem