The weak light of an autumn Sunday morning filtered through the bedroom window, the sounds of a still-bustling Domino city rumbling past the hiss of the radiator. Marik stirred, shivered and pulled the covers tighter, nestling closer to the pale figure beside him. Outside the red and orange leaves fluttered in the wind, making Marik smile softly. The trees were reminder of how different Domino was from Egypt, and a beautiful one at that. His eyes turned to Bakura's slumbering form and his smile widened. Another thing he couldn't have found back home. He felt a ripple of happiness creep up his spine as he leaned over and pressed his lips to the pallid skin of his shoulder. "Good morning."

The spirit grunted softly, leaning into Marik without opening his eyes. "'S cold," he muttered groggily.

"Yeah, a bit," Marik replied. He snaked a hand around his waist, pulling him close. "Have any plans for the morning?"

"Nope. I mean we need milk and some other groceries, and we should probably fix the bookshelf at some point today."

"And the coffee table," Marik said with a groan. "If I recall correctly, it's missing a leg."

"Dammit." Bakura rubbed his eyes, trying to remember the previous night. "I feel like the clock might have fallen off the wall too. And the kitchen table will probably need a good wipe-down." He felt Marik nudge against his leg and glanced back, meeting the purple gaze. "Can I help you?"

A sly smile slipped across his face as a hand brushed between Bakura's legs. "I think we can help each other," the tanned youth said, stroking the spirit's thigh.

"You didn't get enough last night?" Bakura asked with a quiet laugh, rolling over and kissing him firmly.

Marik's tongue darted in and out of Bakura's mouth before he pulled away. "Blegh," he murmured, making a face."Morning breath."

Bakura rolled his eyes, pressing his hips hard against Marik's own. "So many productive things you could be doing with your mouth," he said. "And you chose to complain."

"And yet you're still here." Marik's mouth went to Bakura's neck, nibbling playfully at his skin. "When you have such a to-do list. Lazy bas-"

Bakura yanked him back by the hair, staring him down with a wicked smirk. It was the kind of smile reserved for only two situations; a look that his victims saw before their vision failed them, and times like this with Marik. "Just get over here," he demanded, positioning himself on all fours, never breaking eye contact. "And fuck me."

Marik's grin almost mirrored his partner's. "That I can do," he said, grabbing the small bottle from the bedside table. He curved up behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist and beginning to stroke as readied them both, then pushed in with a light groan of satisfaction.

Bakura's grin faded slightly, turning to a look of both pleasure and determination. He pushed back against Marik's thrusts, the headboard smacking loudly against the wall. For the briefest second he stopped to fix the moment in his mind. The sun slipping through their curtains and illuminating the strand of Marik's hair that flickered in and out of his peripheral vision, the sound of the headboard and the breath released in tiny groans from the back of Marik's throat. The feeling of waking up to something pleasant for once in his very long life, one that was too much to resist.

He leaned into the hand stroking him, letting out an arousing moan. "More," he murmured, a hand caressing the face that leaned against his shoulder, breath hot against his skin. Marik obliged, a thumb rubbing over the tip, his fingers making Bakura writhe, bucking uncontrollably as he teased him. The bronze-skinned youth was merciless, and for this early in the morning it made everything that much more thrilling.

Marik suddenly slowed his thrusts, his hips rolling in fluid, wave-like movements. His hands were never still as he reached even deeper, his lips poised at Bakura's ear. The spirit listened in from his almost dream-like state as Marik whispered his name over and over again, ending with a gentle cry as the floodgates opened, delight washing over him as his thrusts ceased. His hands never wavered, even as he lay draped over Bakura's frame, enjoying the aftermath of his own handiwork. He refused to rest until the man shuddered beneath him, his head thrown back as his muscles relaxed. Together they tumbled down onto the sheets, panting and drawing closer to each other. Marik's breath was soft in his ears, murmuring in an unexpected moment of tenderness.

"Never," he whispered, his violet eyes bright as he stared into the gaunt, contented face, his hand resting on his chest. "I'll never do this with anyone but you."

Bakura grimaced. "Sap," he said tauntingly, crushing him in his arms nonetheless. "As if I'd want to stay in this dump forever." His eyes betrayed him as he smiled down, stroking his blond hair. "But you do know how to start the day, that much is clear."

"You know it." After a few moments, he pulled out of Bakura's arms and stood, stretching in the sunlight. It glinted off his skin and the earrings dangling from his ears, the rest of his usual bangles nowhere to be seen. The sunlight itself, feeling its warmth all around him instead of just slipping through tiny cracks in the tomb's ceiling made him giddy, so glad to be in Domino with Bakura. "You're not cold anymore, are you?" he asked, grabbing the sheets and wrapping them around himself. Without an answer, he slipped out to the kitchen to make breakfast, humming happily to himself.

Bakura watched him go, ruffling his hair with a weary smile. He had never dreamed to expect mornings like this, such a domestic, comfortable lifestyle. He knew he couldn't allow himself to get used to it, but yet perhaps it wouldn't hurt to hope for a few more.

"RA DAMMIT!" Marik swore from the kitchen as a cacophony of pans hit the floor. "BAKURA, YOUR UNDERWEAR IS ON THE STOVE! GET IT OFF BEFORE IT CATCHES ON FIRE!"

The man chuckled. He rolled out of bed and left to help the blond before he burned down their apartment.