AN: Thanks to sitabethel for beta'ing this! Your patience and support are invaluable! If anyone finds typos or issues we missed, please feel free to let me know! The quotes are there because they seemed to go with the story. The first reminds me of Bakura and the second of Marik. Anyway, enjoy! :)
"Even as I hold you, I am letting you go."
― Alice Walker
Marik hadn't meant to fall asleep, but as he'd laid there letting his mind wander, he'd found sleep a pleasant alternative to the memories that plagued him. It wasn't until a slight rustling from the doorway startled him awake that he even realized he'd nodded off. Lifting his sleep-heavy head, Marik noticed he wasn't alone.
Bakura stood filling up the space, the bright backdrop of the living room lights making him a silhouette. Marik sat up in bed, and as his eyes adjusted to the light, he caught Bakura's gaze and held it.
"I didn't think you were coming back," he said by way of greeting, proud that his voice sounded normal, if a bit detached.
"I promised I would," Bakura responded. "I keep my promises."
Neither of them had anything to say after that, so they stared in silence. It seemed an eternity before either of them made a move, and then Bakura took a cautious step forward, followed by another. Before he knew what was happening, Marik found a fist tangled in his hair and Bakura's lips crushing his own.
Marik's heart stuttered for a moment as his brain caught up with what was happening. Instinct brought his hand to Bakura's cheek as his eyes fell closed. Bakura's tongue swiped across his bottom lip before tentatively entering Marik's mouth, and the moment the tip met Marik's experimentally, Marik breathed out a small, desperate moan that was nearly a sob.
He came back, Marik reflected gratefully, his tongue stroking back. He heard Bakura's breath hitch and speed up, and the hand that had been cradling Bakura's cheek slid down to cover his racing heart. The pulse beat strong and fast, matching pace with the equally quick rhythm echoing in Marik's ears.
Bakura pulled back suddenly, panting slightly, and Marik knew from the shock in his wild eyes that he was caught between staying and bolting. Well, that wasn't happening.
Marik took a hold of the open flaps of Bakura's coat, which he hadn't bothered to remove yet, and began sliding back on the bed, dragging Bakura with him. Bakura followed in a daze, his knees coming to rest on either side of Marik's hips. The hand still caught fast in his sleep-mussed hair tightened and pulled, forcing Marik's head back and exposing his neck. Marik's chest rose and fell rapidly as he realized Bakura's intent, and he slid his eyes shut in anticipation.
The second Bakura's lips made contact with his skin, Marik groaned softly. Gods, how many times had he imagined this very scenario? Marik's arms wound up to wrap around Bakura's back and shoulders as those soft, wet lips painted his skin with goosebumps. His hands and stomach clenched when said lips pulled at the sensitive skin behind his ear, and a soft, but heartfelt, "Ah!" rose unbidden from his mouth.
Bakura's free hand found Marik's hip, and a thumb slipped past the band of his jeans to stroke the pulse point at the juncture amid Marik's thigh and groin. Marik's hips shot upward at the touch, his back arched, and his growing erection twitched.
Bakura repeated the motion as his lips and tongue furthered their exploration of Marik's neck. He teased Marik's ear with the tip of his tongue, stroking and prodding lightly, enjoying the feel of Marik squirming beneath him. But even that wasn't enough. He wanted Marik chanting his name like a prayer, wanted him thrashing in pleasure.
Removing his thumb from Marik's waistband, he struggled one-handed to unzip Marik's fly. Frustrated, he undid the button instead and tugged, ripping the zipper open and wrenching the jeans wide. His hand fanned out over Marik's abdomen, his thumb once again dipping inside the jeans, and Bakura groaned quietly when he realized Marik was bare beneath them.
Relinquishing his grip on Marik's hair, Bakura used his free hand to relieve Marik of his shirt. That obstacle out of the way, he brushed the thumb of his unoccupied hand over Marik's nipple with a barely-there lightness while his other hand stroked upward to tease his stomach.
"Is this what you wanted?" he whispered huskily against Marik's parted lips.
"Mm-hmm," Marik half groaned, his violet eyes darkening to plum. The light from the doorway fell over his face where Bakura's shadow didn't, and Bakura could see patches of dark pink blooming across Marik's cheeks. Gods, just the sight of Marik like that was enough to give Bakura wet dreams for weeks.
Bakura's testicles ached, and he had half a mind to take Marik that instant, but no—he wanted Marik out of his mind with desire before he gave either of them release.
"Bakura, please…" Marik moaned, and Bakura realized that he'd been staring motionlessly at Marik for more than a minute. Marik wriggled impatiently, one of his hands coming to cover the one Bakura had resting on his belly. Gripping the hand tightly, Marik guided it further into the front of his jeans until it was right where he wanted it, and a satisfied sigh escaped his lips.
Taking the hint, Bakura palmed Marik's length experimentally, and was rewarded with a strangled intake of breath. Taking that as a good sign, he rubbed along the shaft, applying a bit more pressure. Marik's hips thrust forward sharply, and his breathing became more ragged with each controlled pump of Bakura's fist. It wasn't long before Marik was panting, and when Marik's hand slid up to clutch desperately at Bakura's bicep, he released his grip on Marik and slid his hand out of his pants.
"Wh-what…?" Marik croaked, licking his dry lips.
"You're not getting off that easily," Bakura informed him.
Marik closed his eyes and swallowed audibly, trying to will his breathing to slow down. Feeling Bakura's hands on him was more arousing than he'd imagined. He could feel his heartbeat pulsating through his shaft insistently, begging to be touched again.
Bakura's tongue fluttered over the nipple he'd toyed with earlier, and Marik's eyes flashed open to watch as Bakura slowly traced his way down his body. When he reached Marik's navel, Marik had to grip the bedspread to keep from pushing Bakura away. Then he was dragging his tongue along the border of Marik's jeans, and Marik jerked away and sat up, his hand over his stomach.
Bakura cocked a questioning brow at him, and Marik fought the growing heat in his cheeks. "Uh, sorry. I'm a bit ticklish…" Bakura's confusion melted away to be replaced with a smile that was far too pleased for Marik's comfort.
"Lay down, Ishtar," he ordered, placing a hand on Marik's shoulder and pushing him onto his back again.
Marik tried to relax, but his stomach muscles were twitching, already stimulated from being touched before. When he felt Bakura's breath drift over his skin and past his open fly, however, the idea of Bakura's tongue on him was suddenly stimulating in a very different way.
Bakura planted a soft kiss below Marik's belly button before dragging his lips down to the parted denim below. He tugged on either side of the pants until Marik's erection came free to bob in front of his face. Taking hold of the base in one hand, he let his breath and tongue tease the tip while the fingers of his other hand played over Marik's stomach again.
Marik moaned and fisted the sheets again. His belly clenched and spasmed in response to Bakura's teasing, and Bakura's sucking mouth sent shocks of tingling pleasure through his shaft. The two-fold sensation was maddening, and he wanted desperately for Bakura to finish him.
"B-Bakura!"
Bakura felt his own erection jerk at his name. "Yes?" he asked, his breath ghosting across the tip of Marik's cock.
"Ugh, don't stop," Marik pleaded breathily.
"Sorry, didn't catch that," Bakura lied, dragging his tongue along the underside.
Marik's head jerked right, and then left as he whimpered helplessly.
"Please, Bakura," he panted. "Uh! P-please…don't s-stop!"
Bakura's stomach jumped again at his name being uttered so breathlessly, and he wanted to keep hearing it. "Say my name again, Marik," he growled, his hand milking Marik's member.
"Bakura," Marik whispered.
"Again; louder." Bakura undid his own pants with the hand that wasn't busy stroking Marik, and he began rubbing his own erection.
"B-Bakura."
"Again!" Bakura continued to stroke both of them as he took Marik into his mouth once more.
"Ba-kura. Ba-ku-ra," Marik chanted, his words broken and halting as he grew closer to orgasm. "Bakura, Bakura, BakuraBakuraBa-kur-uuugh!"
Bakura felt Marik tense half a second before he came, shooting jets of hot liquid down Bakura's throat. Bakura swallowed reflexively, and ceased his ministrations on himself. He hadn't come himself, but he was incredibly close.
Marik, breathing heavily, opened his eyes a crack to look dizzily up at Bakura. "That was…mmmm…"
Bakura smiled, pleased. "Do you give as good as you get, Marik?" he asked.
Marik glanced down at Bakura's hand still wrapped around his own erection and smiled sleepily. "Mm-hm. Come here." He patted the bed beside him. Bakura laid down obediently on his back, and Marik propped himself up on one hand, the other running over Bakura's shirt and under his coat. "Aren't you dying in that?" he wondered.
"A bit," Bakura admitted, sitting up long enough to dispose of both the coat and the shirt. "Ah, much better."
Marik straddled Bakura, reversing the roles they'd started with. With a contented sigh, Marik closed his eyes and leaned his lips close to Bakura's, rubbing them together lightly and wondering at how a person as harsh as Bakura could have lips this soft and warm. Opening his eyes, Marik locked his gaze with Bakura's, and the warmth he saw reflected there reminded him that Bakura wasn't as heartless as he liked to pretend to be.
"Well?" Bakura asked impatiently. "Are you going to start soon, or are you just going to hover?"
Marik smirked down at the man beneath him as all manner of possibilities filled his mind. "Some things are better savored slowly," he murmured, leaning down and kissing Bakura again. His tongue greeted Bakura's lightly as he teased it. He felt Bakura squirm underneath him, his erection rubbing eagerly against Marik's thigh, and a choked moan caught Marik's ears. "Not so easy when you're the one being made to wait, is it?" he laughed against Bakura's neck as he slithered down his dewy body. Bakura refrained from commenting, and Marik turned his attention lower, where he knew Bakura wanted him to be. What did it matter if he gave in now? Bakura was back, and he'd have plenty of opportunities to do everything he wanted with him.
Slipping Bakura's pants the rest of the way to the floor, he lowered his mouth and attempted to copy Bakura's previous actions.
"Gods," Bakura whispered as Marik sucked experimentally on the head. Bakura's fingers bunched in the bedspread as Marik took him deeper.
The feel of Bakura's length hitting the back of his throat was uncomfortable, but Marik ignored it and focused on the needy groans escaping from Bakura's mouth. Marik maintained a slow speed, marveling at the softness of Bakura's skin against his tongue.
Marik pulled back after a few minutes and sat up, ignoring Bakura's protests at the lost contact. "Shh," Marik whispered, leaning down and nuzzling Bakura's inner thigh. "I don't want to rush this."
Bakura nodded, his cheeks incandescent and his eyes following Marik as he dragged his lips up Bakura's trembling body.
Bakura grabbed Marik's chin and pulled him close enough to kiss. "Marik—this is..."
"I know." Marik closed his eyes and smiled, his forehead resting against Bakura's and his hands stroking Bakura's chest. "I've wanted this—wanted you—ever since Battle City."
Bakura said nothing as he took in Marik's contented expression, guilt and lust warring within his chest. He knew he should stop this, that it would only hurt them both if he let this continue. But feeling Marik pressed against him, their breath unified, their skin clinging together from the heat of their efforts, he wanted this more than he'd ever wanted anything before—to feel what it was to be with someone who understood him, what it was to be close to another human being. And he wanted to share that feeling with Marik.
Relinquishing his grip on Marik's chin, he brought both of his hands up to cup Marik's face, thumbs lighting beneath sharp kohl markings that accented soft lavender. It hurt to look into those eyes; they were too trusting, despite having seen more than their fair share of cruelty and pain.
"Marik..." His throat closed up as he tried to force out words that fought to remain unspoken.
"Shh..." Marik hushed again, his fingers coming up to trace Bakura's mouth reverently. "There'll be time to talk later. I just want to experience you."
Bakura groaned as he pulled Marik down, eliminating the lingering space between them. Lips moving against Marik's in a desperate attempt to slake a millennia-old need, he apologized silently for what he knew he was going to regret doing.
Marik was once again lost in Bakura's fervent kiss as they rolled onto their sides, Bakura's hands traveling timidly over scars that hadn't been touched since their completion. The feeling of those delicate fingers smoothing over virgin skin sent a new kind of tremor through his body, and Marik buried his face in Bakura's neck, reveling in the sensation that was both overwhelming and instantly addicting.
"Ah, yes! That. Keep doing that."
Bakura obeyed, the pads of his fingers weaving through a secret he'd once have killed to learn. In that moment, all of the planning, all of the sacrifice, seemed insignificant compared to the wealth of compassion swirling in his chest. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply of Marik's musky scent, the emotion overtaking him. In the back of his mind, he felt the ever-present darkness rankle, impatient at this unnecessary waste of time. But the darkness had waited three thousand years—it could wait a bit longer.
"Oh, that feels...so..." Marik's nails dug into Bakura's back as he squirmed against him, their lower bodies molding together with breathtaking friction.
Bakura ghosted his hand once more along Marik's spine before bringing it to rest on his hip. Marik moaned, his renewed arousal pressing flush against Bakura's.
"More," Marik panted, sucking at Bakura's neck. "I want more of you. All of you."
Bakura paused, that war raging inside him once more. He wanted so badly to give Marik what he asked for, but he knew that this couldn't go beyond the moment, knew that he should tell Marik as much before they gave more than they were prepared to lose—just as he knew he would risk it anyway.
"Do you have any lube?"
"Nightstand."
Disentangling from Marik, Bakura dug the small bottle from the back of the drawer and smirked at the amount that was missing. "I see you've made a nice dent in it."
Marik propped himself up on his elbows and grinned back, his cheeks darkening a shade. "I get lonely."
Bakura's head shot up from reading the label. "Wait. Have you not...?"
Marik raised one perfect golden arch. "Does it matter?" Bakura said nothing, scrutinizing Marik until he rolled his eyes. "No, I haven't, but I'm familiar with how it works."
Bakura scooted back a bit, shaking his head. "Marik, I don't want—"
Marik huffed, sitting up and pulling the hesitant Bakura into his lap. "If you think I'm letting you cop out now, you've got another thing coming." Marik adjusted a bit of Bakura's hair that was concealing his face. "I want to experience all of you," he declared, taking the lube from Bakura.
Bakura frowned. "You're not listening to me! I'm trying to tell you—Ah!" Bakura's breath caught as sensation jolted through him. Marik palmed Bakura's length with practiced skill and lube-coated fingers, tossing the bottle onto the bed beside them. Bakura pressed twitching hands to Marik's chest, putting space between their too-close bodies. The air was thick and hot; it was difficult to breathe.
Marik's ministrations changed, a slight twist and squeeze being added to each smooth glide as he licked and sucked at Bakura's neck. His quaking fingers curling and uncurling against Marik's heated chest, Bakura could feel the echoing heat building beneath his navel.
"Gods! Marik, stop. You don't want—"
"Don't presume to tell me what I want," Marik growled, his words teasing Bakura's ear as surely as his tongue had teased Bakura's neck moments before. "I know what I want. Do you?"
Bakura moaned, his face buried in Marik's hair and his fingers sliding up to grip Marik's shoulders spasmodically. "So good," he panted.
"Let's make it better," Marik whispered, the fingers of his free hand playing along Bakura's back and inching them closer.
"Fa-ster," Bakura breathed. "Please."
"No." Marik's hand disappeared from Bakura's penis.
Bakura let out a sound that was far too close to a whine as he pulled back. "Marik, you manipulative bastard!"
Marik just grinned arrogantly as he trailed one finger along Bakura's hip. "What's the matter, Thief King? Afraid to steal my innocence? Because I can assure you, I lost that years ago."
"Fuck you!"
Marik's eyes glinted. "That's the idea." Bakura glared into those calculating, challenging pools of lusty violet.
Pushing him onto his back, Bakura spread Marik's legs and snatched up the bottle of lube. "Fine," he growled, coating his fingers and tossing the bottle aside. "Just remember that you asked for it."
Without waiting a beat, Bakura inserted the first finger into Marik's entrance, moving with exaggerated slowness.
"You can go a bit faster than that," Marik egged.
Bakura added the second finger, stretching Marik's passage wider and inching deeper.
Marik squirmed and blushed. "It feels strange."
Bakura leaned over him as he continued to twist his fingers in and out. "Good strange, or bad strange?"
"Neither just—ah-AH!" Marik gripped the already rumpled coverlet and closed his eyes.
"More?" Marik nodded, and Bakura added the third finger, repeating the motion that had made Marik cry out.
"Oh, yes. Right. There!"
Bakura's cheeks heated, and he increased the speed as Marik began writhing beneath him. Marik grabbed Bakura's wrist, stilling it.
"I'm ready."
Bakura's nodded, lining himself up. He ran his fingers through Marik's tousled hair, adjusting he bangs to better see his face. "There's no undoing this."
"Why would I want to undo it?"
Bakura opened his mouth to respond, but Marik pulled Bakura chest-to-chest and kissed him, his hips grinding up to meet Bakura's until they were both too breathless for proper conversation.
"Now, Bakura."
Bakura grabbed one of Marik's hands and threaded their fingers together before pushing forward. Marik sucked in air through his teeth, his hand clenching Bakura's, but his other hand grabbed Bakura's ass and urged him deeper.
After he was sure Marik had adjusted to his girth, Bakura picked up the pace, trying to hit that spot that Marik had liked so much.
"AH!" Marik's nails dug into Bakura's back, his own back arching up from the bed. "Yes, oh gods, like that! Just like that, Bakura."
Both of their cries grew in volume as Bakura moved within Marik, lost to the sensations and Marik's voice in his ear. He kept a steady, medium pace, trying to draw the experience out for them both, knowing full well that he was only delaying the inevitable.
"Faster," Marik moaned. Bakura maintained his steady pace for a few seconds longer before Marik gripped his hips and urged him to quicken it.
"Mmph." Bakura's supporting arm began to shake with the effort of holding his weight. He gave up and wrapped it around Marik's waist, his face nuzzling Marik's neck as the heat in his abdomen increased rapidly with the new angle. "I-I'm not...going to last...muh-ch longer."
Marik kissed along Bakura's shoulder. "Not yet." Marik pulled Bakura's other hand to wrap around Marik's cock and, taking the hint, Bakura focused on Marik instead of the maddening pressure in his gut.
"Mm! Yes...yes...Bakura. Don't stop." Bakura timed his thrusts with the movement of his hand until he felt Marik bucking, all of his muscles tightening.
"Ahahah! Bakura!" Marik stiffened as he came, the warmth hitting Bakura's sternum. Once Marik had settled, Bakura, now unbearably close to peak himself, pounded into Marik with renewed vigor. A few minutes later he went over the edge, Marik's name a muffled garble as Bakura buried his face one more time in Marik's neck.
They laid there for several minutes, the only sound in the room their breathing and the blood beating in their ears. Finally, Bakura flipped onto his back to put some space between them. Marik followed the movement a moment later, resting his head on Bakura's shoulder and tracing unknowable pictures on Bakura's chest.
Bakura's hand stroked through the soft, messy strands of sun-colored hair. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this," Bakura said quietly.
Marik snorted. "What, sex?" he mocked, levering himself onto his arms to make his face level with Bakura's.
Bakura's hand came up to stroke Marik's cheek as their eyes searched one another, and Marik could have sworn he heard Bakura's breath hitch. "I should never have come here," Bakura murmured.
Marik frowned. "Why not? I wasn't that bad, was I?"
For the first time since Marik had known him, a small smile—a real smile—crossed Bakura's lips. But it wasn't quite right somehow; it didn't entirely mask the pain and regret in his eyes.
"But even so," Marik added, smirk returning. "I'm sure we'll get better with a little practice."
The words hit Bakura's heart like a dagger, and the longer he looked at Marik's unsuspecting face, the more it twisted and ripped him apart. The darkness reared its head once more, a menacing rumble sounding in his mind. This time he acknowledged it.
He couldn't stay here any longer, no matter how badly he wanted to.
His hand, still cupping Marik's cheek, caressed the skin under Marik's eye, and Marik leaned into the touch. Smooth, warm, living flesh. How long had it been since he'd felt the warmth of another's body?
"I envy you."
Marik opened his eyes at the strange, wavering note in Bakura's voice. "Me? Why?"
Bakura didn't answer. Instead he pulled Marik closer, until he felt hot lips on his borrowed ones, until he was breathing each breath that Marik released, and pretended the lips were his—that Marik was his.
But that growling in his mind ruined the illusion. This was never meant to be his...
They broke apart, and Bakura pushed Marik completely off.
"What is it?" Marik asked as Bakura rose from the bed. "Are you thirsty? I can get us some water..." Marik trailed off as Bakura began to dress, his boxers and pants on in a matter of seconds.
"I can't stay," Bakura answered shortly. He had his back to Marik as he drew on his shirt, unwilling to see the kaleidoscope of emotions he knew would be on Marik's face.
"Of course you can! No one will find you here. It's cheaper than getting a hotel room, and my siblings only stop by—"
"Marik." Bakura took a steadying breath and turned, coat in hand, to finally meet Marik's eyes. "Battle City was just a means to an end; the true duel between myself and the pharaoh has yet to be played. I've stacked the deck in my favor, but in either case..." Bakura looked away. "I'm not coming back. Even if I win, I'll be moving on with my people."
Marik's mouth formed shapes, but no words followed.
"I wanted to tell you before...before. But I didn't want this reunion to be sad. Maybe it was selfish of me, but I wanted something—beautiful to take with me." Bakura met Marik's eyes, and the water pooling there, barely constrained, made his own eyes itch and burn. "I wanted to feel again, even if just for one night—even if it pains me as much as it delights me."
Bakura stood there, unsure what to do, waiting for Marik to respond, but he remained uncharacteristically silent. The tension in the room grew heavier until Bakura could no longer bare it. "Marik, say something, damnit!"
When Marik finally spoke, it was almost whispered. "What do you want me to say? Don't go? We both know nothing I say is going to stop you from leaving."
Marik was right. But deep down Bakura still wanted to hear the words, wanted to know that his leaving—that his existence—meant something to someone.
"Perhaps not, but it wouldn't hurt to hear them anyway."
Marik's eyes closed and the pools spilled over. "It would hurt to say them."
On impulse, Bakura strode to where Marik had risen from the bed—not even a sheet draped around his waist—and pulled him to his chest. He breathed in the scent of musky sunlight from Marik's hair, and for an instant he could imagine staying. He could see himself waking up next to Marik, and falling asleep in his arms. He could hear laughing and smell homemade bread. He could feel fingers in his hair and taste sweat on his tongue...
Bakura pulled back slowly, and the images faded.
"I will always remember you. If you wish to keep me, keep me alive in your thoughts; speak my name when you feel alone, and I will be with you."
Bakura touched their lips together once more, softly, fleetingly, before pulling away completely, the taste of Marik and salty regret lingering from the kiss.
And then he was gone.
Marik climbed onto his bed and curled up in the spot where he and Bakura had just lain, burying his head in Bakura's pillow. The warmth from their bodies was already fading.
"Bakura..." Marik whispered. "Bakura...Bakura...Bakura..."
"I've never forgotten him. Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart. I still cannot understand how he could abandon me so unceremoniously, without any sort of goodbye, without looking back even once. The pain is like an axe that chops my heart. "
― Yann Martel, Life of Pi