"Ehy, aren't you cold laying naked on the couch?"
The last thing Marik had expected to find when he opened the door to his flat was Bakura's long figure spread out across his sofa, apparently asleep.

"I'm not naked," came the snappy answer. "I'm in my underwear!"

Marik laughed, unsurprised to find him awake. After all, the spirit had been around for more than 3000 years – he knew better than to be caught off guard by anyone, even if that someone was his partner in crime. A life on the run had probably taught the former tomb robber to sleep with one eye open; Marik had never been able to stare at his dozing figure for more than a couple of minutes before Bakura would bark at him to 'fuck off and go back to sleep'.

"It's kind of the same thing, isn't it? You'll catch a cold." he asked.

"I never did and I won't start now!" Bakura rolled over, using his forearm to
shield his eyes from the sun glaring through the window.

"This is Japan, not Egypt." Marik snorted, removing his coat and gloves and throwing them unceremoniously on a nearby chair. "The weather is freezing today."

Bakura shrugged, reaching for one of the pillows to cover his face.

"Don't forget you're inhabiting another body, now." Marik continued. "Don't push your luck. That boy looks like he could die of pneumonia just by going out without a scarf."

Bakura immediately sprang up, glaring at the other with an angry look in his eyes.

"Are you saying I look weak?" he hissed.

"I'm just saying you look like a teenager who's never once seen sunlight in his
whole life." Marik retorted, coming back from the kitchen with a glass of water in his hands.

"I'm warning you, Marik." Bakura snarled through his teeth. The Egyptian glared back at him with an almost imperceptible grin on his mouth.

"Or a gym, for all that it counts." he added.

Laughing, Marik ducked to avoid the pillow tossed at his face, followed by a blur as the thief lunged at him. Without warning, he was slammed onto the floor by Bakura. The glass slipped from Marik's hand, crashing on the floor and spreading cold, sparkling water all over his clothes.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Bakura snarled, straddling Marik's chest to wrap his fingers around the teen's neck.

The Egyptian laughed. "How? Are you going to throw dice at me?"

"I could start by tearing out that nasty tongue of yours!" Bakura threatened.

"Then I guess I won't be able to tell my family secret anymore." Marik answered, purposely mimicking a sad expression. "How tragic."

The spirit shot him a killing glare, as though seriously considering throwing his 3000 year old plan away for the pleasure of permanently shutting Marik's mouth.

"So, are you going to kill me or not? It's getting cold down here." Marik challenged.

"I can do worse than killing you." Bakura's narrowed into razor slits on his face. Marik grinned, a happy, elated look on his face.

"Be my guest, then!" he invited.

"You sure blab a lot for someone who is getting excited just by having me on top." Bakura snapped. Marik's grin faded for a second when he realized he was indeed hard. Regretting his loss of composure, he flashed another teasing smile.

"That sort of thing happens when you promise people you'll murder them and then don't keep your word." he sighed. "They tend to get pointlessly excited."

"You're just talk." Bakura hissed, reaching for a fragment of glass and shoving it in the boy's face. Marik felt its point graze his cheek. He closed his eyes, gnawing his lip to control the sudden and overwhelming urge to tremble. Sharp objects recalled events he would rather keep buried forever.

"What is it, now? Don't you like being cut?" the spirit continued, a satisfying grin spreading across his face as the Egyptian's expression faltered. He pressed the glass deeper, enjoying the startled cry that followed the movement.

"It would be so easy to crush you, Marik." He chanted, taking the sharp object away from the boy's face. Marik relaxed, though his hands were still quivering uncontrollably. "Too easy."

"You need me more than I need you." the Egyptian mumbled unconvincingly, trying to maintain a steady face.

"Is that the best you can come up with?" Bakura laughed, drawing back to press the glass to his hand. Marik's expression flickered again. "I don't need to be your ally to get what I want."

He slid the glass diagonally across his palm, cutting his own flesh. Blood poured out of the wound, spreading over his hand like red silk. Bakura pushed it in front of Marik's face, barely touching his nose. The Egyptian tried to turn away from the sick smell of blood pervading his nostrils but the spirit's fingers closed over his face, forcing him still.

"I have more efficient ways of making people talk." Bakura sneered, caressing
Marik's cheek with his bloodied hand. The action left red streaking across his skin and trailing down his neck. "There are other reasons I keep up this charade." he went on. "Other things I gain."

Bakura slipped his hands under Marik's shirt, pulling it up to slide his fingers across the damp abdomen. The instant his torso was exposed, he took one of the boy's nipples in his mouth, sucking, licking, and biting the skin. Marik's back arched in pleasure as the moist tongue toyed with his prone body. With a quick movement, Bakura unclasped Marik's jeans, forcing his undamaged hand into the teen's pants. A warm hand clutched his hard penis and began to move along it. Each stroke was followed by a small bite on the bronze skin of the boy.

Lost in pleasure, Marik moaned and panted heavily, thrusting upwards into the spirit's palm as the pace increased. He opened his own pants, feeling relieved as the pressure on his crotch lifted slightly. Bakura took over from where he had left off, removing his clothes completely. Within seconds, they were both naked.

The spirit grabbed Marik by his haunch, helping him around and onto his knees. One of his hands slid down Marik's thigh, tracing back up to take him in his hand again; the other one moved from the muscular stomach up to his neck along the lines of Marik's body before slowly lifting his back up. The blood still staining his palm mixed with water and sweat, creating tangled patterns on the skin he had touched. Bakura sank his teeth into Marik's neck, avidly sucking without slowing the stroking of his erection. He let go only when he was sure he had left a long-lasting mark on him, pulling back with a satisfied smirk at the angry red bruise that had formed.

Again, he ran his hands over Marik's torso, their bodies moving on their own, tangling together to feel the heat radiating off every inch of their skin. Bakura's cock pressed against other's back, sending chill of ecstasy down his spine with each movement. He slid his thumb over Marik's glans, enjoying the spasms of pleasure as they continued to move together.

Without warning, Bakura grew tired of playing and released his hold. He took the boy's ass,
shoving two wet fingers inside with expected ease. It wasn't their first time having sex and he was sure Marik had been into this kind of stuff long before their first meeting. When he felt the Egyptian was ready enough, he ripped his hand out, pushing his penis in its place. Marik moaned loudly as the spirit filled him completely.

Wasting no time, their bodies writhed together as fast as they
could. Neither of them cared for the pleasure of the other, their minds focused on getting the most they could from sex. Marik's hand gripped his own length,
stroking along with each thrust, soon joined by Bakura, who grabbed the base of
his cock and massaged it with steady movements.

The moaning grew faster and faster as Marik grew closer to his climax. Bakura closed
his hand over the boy's and moved with him, forcing an increase in the pace. With a last cry of pleasure, Marik finally came, dripping warm semen over their hands.

As soon as Marik's breathing slowed down, Bakura dug his nails into his hips, forcing his whole length inside. He thrust in again, making their bodies clash
together so hard that Marik had to strain his arm muscles to the most of their strength to keep from being fucked into the floor. It didn't take long for Bakura to come. Biting hard on his lower lip to keep from moaning and giving the other boy the satisfaction of overhearing his loss of control, he released inside Marik, filling him with his cum.

For a couple of minutes they both lay still, panting heavily, their minds momentarily blank. Bakura pulled out and swung to his feet, patting his legs to remove any dirt clinging to him.

He stood and gazed impassivelt at Marik; the boy had collapsed, exhausted, on the ground, white semen dripping down his thighs. He smirked and ran a hand through his long, white hair. The boy sure needed a shower and so did he. He turned and walked toward the bathroom.

"Ehy, aren't you cold laying naked on the floor?" Bakura threw a last mocking taunt over his shoulder, leaving the room.


A/N: This is the first fanction I publish after lurking on fanfiction․net for years — and basically learning english by reading smut *coff coff*. Thanks to LadyBlackwell/Arostine & millenniumspoon for correcting my english. I'm open to all kinds of critical reviews as long as you comment on what needs improvement but also on what is good.

This was written as a challenge: the first line had to be "«Ehy, aren't you cold laying naked on the couch? »". And so it was. Hope you had fun.