Pain and Pleasure
The dim light that filtered through the porthole window barely allowed Bakura to identify the figure entering his room.
"What are you doing here at this ungodly hour, Marik?" he managed to mumble, annoyed by this midnight disturbance.
The intruder ignored this question and instead replied, "I hope you're not planning to be bedridden for the rest of the finals. You'll be no use to me if you're just lying around here. Not to mention you'll miss seeing me get my revenge on the pharaoh."
Bakura rolled his eyes. "Better to be here in bed alone than with you."
"Oh really?" Marik asked snidely. "I thought you'd love to be in bed with me."
Bakura sighed, "Haha. Real mature. You know that's not what I meant."
"Alright, jokes aside, why did you allow the pharaoh to attack you today? You know he would never hurt his friend. He would have forfeited the duel. You could have won! We could have won."
"You never know. Everyone was telling him to attack. You heard them. He may have given in and done it. Then what would have happened to my host? No matter how weak he is, I need him. I can't very well have him die. I can't control a corpse," Bakura huffed. For several seconds, the two men sat in silence, neither wishing to force the issue any further.
"Very well then," Marik finally broke the silence and crossed the room, approaching the bed and the man in it. "How's your arm? Does it hurt?"
Bakura, gladdened by the change of subject, willingly admitted, "A little, but it doesn't bother me. I actually like it a little. The pain at least makes me feel alive, a feeling I missed for 5000 years."
Marik sat down on the edge of the bed. "And I thought I had it rough, being in that old tomb for 17 years. I can't even imagine 5000, just waiting for your chance to take revenge. But what I really don't get is what you said right now about pain. How can you enjoy it? It's pain that has worn at me my whole life. This accursed scar on my back. I just wanted a normal life, not to be the stupid 'keeper of the pharaoh's secret.' Bearing that pain has been the bane of my existence, and finally here at the Battle City finals, I plan to be rid of it for good."
"You've mentioned this secret before, but you never said it was a scar on your back," the white-haired man hesitated. "May…may I see it?"
This request caught the Egyptian boy off-guard, "Well, uh, I suppose. No harm in you seeing it, I guess. We are on the same side here." The boy slipped of his lavender top and turned around, exposing his back and the scar that had haunted him for so many years. Bakura reached out and gently touched the inscription, sending a shiver through the tan boy. The shock caused him to abruptly brush off the pale man's hand and turn back around to face him. "I'd better get back to my room," he gasped, wide-eyed. "I'll see you around, Bakura!" He stood up and moved for a quick get-away when Bakura lunged and grasped his hand.
"Wait," he pleaded, and Marik froze in place. "Your back. That must have been really painful. I'm…I'm sorry you were put through that, against your will too, all for the sake of the damn pharaoh."
"It, it was. And thank you. That is the exact reason why I will get my revenge. He destroyed my life. I may have escaped my home in Egypt but the pharaoh still left me this physical reminder to follow me forever." Marik's eyes, welling up with tears, dropped to the floor. Bakura stood up and walked over to his partner, placeing a hand on his shoulder. Marik lifted his head, and their eyes met. His comrade's gaze was soft, and his almond-colored eyes pierced the heart of the Egyptian.
"Just remember, you're not alone now. Neither of us are. We're in this together. We'll get the pharaoh. Together." With this, the taller man leaned down and kissed the other's forehead. Marik's lilac eyes widened again. As Bakura pulled away, Marik, fueled with passion, took hold of his cohort's face and pressed their lips together. Realizing what he had just done, he moved to flee again, but Bakura would have none of that. He wrapped an arm around the shorter man's waist and brought him back in an embrace. Their mouths met again, but this time Bakura slid his tongue between Marik's lips. The sensation from the foreign tongue in his mouth made him giggle. He thought to pull away once more but the hand on the Egyptian's waist guided him over to the bed. He willingly leaned back against the soft pillow, almost as fluffy and white as the hair of the man kissing him now. But then Bakura's mouth moved away from Marik's own, which made it start to pout with discontent. It quickly turned back to a smile when Marik felt the slight tug of teeth on his earlobe and a trail of light kisses down his neck and across his bare chest.
Bakura sat up just long enough to remove his own shirt. His pale chest glistened in the moonlight. Marik giggled again. This made Bakura look down at himself and sigh, "You know, my skin never used to be this insipid. I used to be a bronze god. If only Ryo would step out in the goddamn sunlight every once in awhile."
"'A bronze god.' Really?" Marik mused and chuckled at the statement the pale man had made. But he didn't mind the dainty white of his skin. What he admired was the man and the heart beneath it. He brought Bakura back on top of him, and allowed his hands to wander along his thin but toned frame. When they made their way to waistline of his faded grey jeans, his fingers diligently flittered with the belt, releasing a new flurry of excitement. He disposed of the jeans as Bakura briskly undid Marik's belt as well and removed his black cargos. Now that all the fabric obstructions were done away with, Bakura returned to blazing his trail of kisses, venturing towards territories yet unexplored. When the lips reached his pelvis, Marik let out a faint whimper as he tried to contain his pleasure. The owner of the lips then glided his fingers along the hardening shaft and placed his mouth over the tip of it. He began to suck it lightly, and Marik could not longer control the urge to moan. This was it; both men knew there was only one stop left on this blimp ride, and it wasn't anywhere in Battle City.
Bakura pulled back one last time for a breath of fresh air. "Are you ready?" he asked. "It's been 5000 years since I've done anything remotely like this, and I'm still a little weak from the duel with the pharaoh today. I just don't want to disappoint you."
"How can I be disappointed? I just want you. All of you. And besides, it's not like I have anything to compare it to," Marik replied with a grin and a wink as he rolled over and took a firm hold of the bed's headboard. "Now, I'm ready for ya. Give me all you got," he said in a sassy tone that just made Bakura shake his head and chuckle before following the Egyptian's command.
As they settled down again, hoping the thick walls and metal door had muffled the sounds of their passion enough as to not rouse suspicion, Bakura cradled Marik in his arms.
"Now we'll have to do that again tomorrow night!" Marik exclaimed gleefully, his first romantic excavation having been everything he'd always hoped it'd be.
"Well, we can't get too ahead of ourselves. We don't want to risk getting caught. But I do just want you to remember that you are more to me than just a tool in helping me defeat the pharaoh. You are so much more. Marik, I…I love you." He said this hesitantly, as too not scare off his confidant. It had only been one night. Could he really be in love with another man after just one good romp? But it hadn't been just a rendezvous; it was a night of intimacy and real passion, of more than just sex. Bakura knew that they both had to have felt it, the genuine connection between, how they had in that night, really become one.
Marik's light purple eyes glittered in the faint moonlight. He smiled, and gave a simple reply, "I love you too, Bakura." With this, he took the other man's hand and kissed it lightly. Then he shut his eyes. "Ya know if you really are too injured from the duel, stay bedridden then. At least I know I'll have one use for you here," Marik teased. Bakura shot him a dirty look before closing his own eyes. And the two men, in their tight embrace, fell asleep, both praying that the next morning they would awake, still in each other's arms, proving that the night had not been a dream all along.