Okay. I haven't written in a really long time. So, just warning you, Bakura and (Yami) Marik are a little out of character.
Note: When I reference Yami Marik, it's just Marik. Malik is the hikari. Just to avoid any confusion. I also don't own either character, since they belong to Kazuki Takahashi.
There's sex and a small amount of blood in this one. It's a bit rough. Just warning you. Enjoy!
"Bakura!"" Marik yelled as he slammed the spirit's front door behind him. "What was so urgent that I had to rush over here? You know, I had to leave before dinner, and that doesn't sit well with me, thief." After throwing his long, black jacket, the tanned yami plopped himself down on the old, broken couch that his friend (and his friend's hikari) owned in their small apartment.
"Bakura!" The Egyptian roughly kicked his feet on top of the beaten up coffee table the white-haired boys owned.
"Hold on!" Damn, I didn't expect him to come over so fast. Bakura threw on a sweater (since the heat in the apartment only worked half of the time) over his thin t-shirt and stumbled down the hallway to the small living room where Marik sat on the couch. "I only said it was urgent to make sure you actually showed up. Half the damn time you say you'll come over but then get…busy…with Malik and never actually get here." Bakura leaned over the side of the couch, leaning his chest toward Marik and gazing down at the taller man.
Slowly looking up at the ancient spirit through his blond bangs, Marik sighed. "Either way, what did you want."
Bakura shoved himself off the couch and took a step towards the kitchen, turning his back on his guest. "Want something to drink?"
"Bakura."
"Water? I'm pretty sure that's all we have."
"Bakura, where's Ryou."
"Actually, I think we have some iced tea. Want that?" Bakura was in the kitchen by now, his head stuck in the fridge.
Suddenly Bakura was thrown backwards on his ass and the fridge slammed shut. "You answer me when I ask you a question." Marik kneeled down over his friend.
Bakura glared up at Marik, practically snarling through his teeth. "Do not throw me around like I'm ragdoll. Or your hikari." He smiled at his last remark.
A small, angry smile appeared on Marik's face. "I won't throw you around like my hikari when you stop liking it like my hikari." He caught the wrist before the punch landed on his left cheek. "Now. Why did you invite me over here? I had plans with Malik tonight and you ruined them with your damn urgent phone call."
"I just thought we could spend the evening together. Ryou isn't home and I figured we could both use a night of terror in this town."
"Ah. Ryou isn't home and you're lonely."
"Shut up, Marik! I am not lonely. I'm just bored. Now get off of me!" Bakura shoved the larger man off of him and bound to his feet.
Marik laughed, laying on his back on the kitchen floor. "Okay, thief. Whatever you say."
Bakura sighed, rolled his eyes, and began to make his way back to the living room. Marik, however, had other ideas and stuck his foot between the others' legs, causing him to stumble to the floor. "Damn it, Marik!"
The evil yami laughed and climbed over Bakura, grapping the collar of his sweater. Bakura began to smack at the tanned man, but only received a chuckle in response. Marik, still on his hands and knees, began to drag the spirit of the ring to the carpeted living room.
"Marik! Let me go!" His words, however, fell on deaf ears. Bakura finally managed to get a hold of his guest's (if we can call him that, now) own tank top. He yanked down, throwing the other off balance with an "oof."
"Hah!" Bakura exclaimed as he clamored on top of the other, knees straddling the bare, tanned waist where the black tank top had moved up.
"Oh. Well. If you wanted this, you could have just said that on the phone and all of this confusion could have been avoided, Bakura." Marik let his body go limp as he feigned giving up under the white haired man's weight.
"What? I don't – oh, come on, Marik! That's not what this is about." Bakura sighed, pushed his hair back from his forehead and leaned his back against Marik's bent knees.
"Oh? Well. My mistake." Marik slid his palms up the spirit's thin legs, stopping just below his hips.
Bakura grabbed Marik's wrist, stopping the movement. "No. I'm serious. I wanted to ask if you've seen my hikari around."
"This is about your hikari?" Marik, anger seeping into his voice and his fingers clenching around the white-haired spirit's thin thighs.
Bakura sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "It's nothing, really. He just hasn't been home in a few days."
"And why should I care? Come to think of it, thief, why should you care?" Marik shoved the other off of him and got to his feet, glaring down at Bakura.
"Oh, don't tell me you don't worry about Malik here and there! Especially if he were to disappear for a few days without notice."
"I don't worry about Malik because Malik isn't a weak, little boy like your host."
Marik hardly finished his sentence before Bakura had him slammed up against the flimsy apartment wall, his arm pressing on the taller one's throat. "My host. Is not weak."
"You're scrawny arms beg to differ, thief." Marik grabbed Bakura by the hair and spun them around so he now had control of the situation.
"Let me go, Marik."
"Nah. I don't think I will." Marik sneered and stuck his face barely an inch from Bakura's. The spirit could feel the Egyptian's breath on his skin, the heat making him shudder in the chilly apartment. "Now, let's get one thing straight. You called me up, asking me to come over. And here I am and all you want to do is gush about your light? Don't make me laugh. If I recall correctly, you were once the most evil thing to walk this earth besides me. Did that little boy make you go all soft? Eh, Bakura?"
Bakura growled in the back of his throat and jerked his head in a vain attempt to escape the rough grip on his hair and chest. He, obviously, failed.
"Let me go, Marik."
"Tell me you don't want to talk about your hikari."
"His name is Ryou. I just thought maybe he'd been over."
"Nope. He's probably with Yugi and the pharaoh. He's basically in love with those guys, yeah?"
That earned the taller one a quick kick to the shin, causing him to yelp and release Bakura's hair.
"He is not in love with those guys!" Bakura landed a punch to Marik's left cheek.
Marik let loose a crazed laugh, slowly turning his gaze back to the other. "Oh? I suppose he's in love with you then?"
Bakura growled and made to punch again. However, Marik was ready this time and caught his wrist mid-swing and struck Bakura in the chest, causing the other to lose he breath and fall to his knees, coughing.
"Are you ready to stop playing this game, thief? Because we all know you lose the games you play against me. " Marik crouched beside the other.
Bakura sneered up at Marik through his hair. "Only when I team up with your girlish light."
That comment got a reaction out of the other. Marik threw himself on top of Bakura, pinning him in place. And he says I'm protective of my hikari. Heh.
Marik, anger written all over his face, wasn't sure what to do next. He knew Bakura liked to play with his food before he ate it, but he would be damned if he would let the thief best him. So, he didn't do anything. He just crouched there, straddling and bent over Bakura, holding his wrists to the cold floor.
Without thinking, Bakura slipped one of his small wrists through the other's hard grip and grabbed him by the back of the hair. He pulled himself up at the same time he forced Marik's face downward. Their mouths met in a crash of lips and teeth.
Before Marik had time to actually react to the forced kiss, Bakura slipped his other hand through the now-loose grip and it joined his other in Marik's blonde mane. His fingers intertwined around the locks, forcing the two men closer.
Bakura pulled his head back to look at the other. He smirked and harshly nipped Marik's bottom lip.
After Marik had come back to his senses, he growled low in his throat and moved his right hand around Bakura's small neck. He slammed the thief's head into the floor and began to apply pressure to his windpipe.
"Try something sneaky again, and I'll crush the life out of you." A smile found its way to Marik's face as his fingers loosened their pressure on the pale throat. "But you'd probably like that, you masochist."
"You're damn right." Bakura winked and kicked Marik in the torso, knocking the wind out of him and throwing him backwards. His breath ragged, Bakura sat up and rubbed his throat. "Also. I'll be as sneaky as I care to be, seeing as how it always lets me win against you, scum."
Finally catching his breath, Marik smirked and tilted his head at Bakura. "Name calling isn't a turn on for me, Kura." He winked and got to his knees, crawling towards the other across the chilly floor. "And if you keep this place any colder, your small host is going to freeze to death. He doesn't have any meat on him to live in such cold places."
"Did you just call me 'Kura'? Don't go using a nickname on me now. Little Malik might start thinking things, eh?" Bakura sat upright, facing his foe.
"Oh, you wouldn't tell. That's risk us having to stop these fun little games. And you love these games." Marik grabbed a fistful of Bakura's sweater and rammed their lips together once again. Bakura, not wanting to give up total dominance to the other, clamped down on Marik's bottom lip with his teeth as hard as he could. The taste of the other's blood filled his mouth, making his lust level rise.
The hands went from the top of Bakura's shirt to the loose bottom and tore it over the thief's wild hair. Marik threw the sweater across the room and his hands quickly hide themselves in Bakura's messy hair and pulled him back and to the floor once more.
"I don't like to bleed simply for your sick pleasure, thief." Marik growled, spitting blood at Bakura's white face. Making a mocking face, Bakura reached up and wiped the blood off of his cheek.
Quicker than Marik could react, Bakura backhanded the other across his tanned cheek. Before he Marik could fully comprehend what happened, Bakura dug his fingers into the sides of the muscle-toned neck above him, making small droplets of blood form beneath his nails.
"The fuck-" Before Marik could finish his thought, Bakura lifted himself to Marik's neck and sucked on the small wounds he had made.
A sharp intake of air was all Marik could do. He'd never let Bakura lay a hand on him when they fooled around before but damn it felt good. His right hand found its way up Bakura's back and lost itself in his thick white mane, holding him in place.
After what seemed like an eternity of Bakura sucking Marik's neck, he suddenly bit down with a force that was sure to leave a nasty bruise.
"Ah! Damn!" Marik's right hand tightened on Bakura's hair and once again slammed him to the floor. "Bakura!" He yelled menacingly at the body underneath him.
All Bakura could do was smile, his eyes half lidded, and lick his lips clean. All coherent thought left Marik's brain at that moment, his body being overtaken by need and desire.
Marik put a hand on Bakura's boney chest, putting pressure so the other couldn't move. He smirked at the man beneath him and allowed his free hand to lightly wander over the bulge that was growing in the other's jeans. Bakura's breath hitched and his eyes rolled back.
"Ra, Marik." But Marik removed his hand before any real pleasure could take place. "What-?"
Before Bakura could get any more words out, Marik let his crazed need take complete control. He put both hands on Bakura's chest, grabbed the thin fabric of the white t-shirt and ripped it in half. Not giving the thief time to react, the Egyptian then returned his hands to the chest and quickly pulled his fingernails across the pale chest.
"Ah! Fuck!" Bakura's breathing increase as well as the pressure in his groin. God, he knows how to play me.
Beads of blood formed across the scratch lines. Marik pressed one of his sweat-slicked fingers into the deepest of them, causing Bakura to writhe and moan beneath him. Once he had had enough of that, Marik bent down and nipped at Bakura's ear. A shudder ran through the ancient spirit.
"Mmmm…" He trailed his fingers down Marik's back and hooked them under the black tank top. Grabbing hold, he pulled it towards him and over the other's head and discarded it away from them. Marik pressed his now bare chest against Bakura's bloodied one and began to nibble on the white neck.
Once he thought Bakura was at ease again, he clamped down on his neck, leaving a bruise like the one he received only moments before. Bakura yelled out and pulled the Egyptian's mouth off of him with a pop and slammed their mouths together. Marik pushed his way inside of Bakura, causing the other to almost gag.
Bakure involuntarily bucked up into Marik's hips.
"Oh? A little impatient?" Marik said, throatily.
"Aye, and judging by the looks of your khaki's, so are you?" Bakura smile and kissed Marik again as he trailed his fingers to unbutton both their pants.
As Marik kicked his khaki's and boxers off and to the corner, Bakura shimmied out of his own grey jeans and underwear. When he settled back down, he hissed as the cold floor hit his back. Damn, it is cold in here.
Before Bakura could actually return to his previous position, Marik grabbed his arm and flipped him on his stomach.
"On your knees, thief." It was a command dripping with lust and power. Bakura had no issue obeying. Sometimes he liked letting someone else take control, so long as it was a short period of time.
Slowly, so slowly, Bakura drug his knee's up. Apparently Marik didn't want to go slow because he cracked Bakura upside the head and growled, "No more games, Bakura." Bakura drug his other knee up a bit faster.
Marik grabbed a hold of Bakura's hips and hummed approval as he looked as his victim. He let his hands travel up and down Bakura's white back and around front to pinch his perk nipples. The spirit moaned and leaned back into Marik's pelvis, begging for something more.
A smile formed of Marik's lips as he returned his hands to Bakura's hips and held him so his erection was just brushing against Bakura's entrance.
"Marik. I thought we weren't playing games?" As soon as the sentence was past Bakura's thin lips, Marik slammed his cock into the tight passage.
"Fuck Marik!" Bakura yelled, his hand slipping on the floor and his forehead meeting it. It was not a yell of pleasure. It was one of pure pain. "Marik what the fuck! Dammit! Fuck you! Why the hell would you do that?" Bakura was seething with anger. He was not one who liked surprises.
Marik only began to laugh. As he pounded in and out of Bakura, his laughter turned into moaning.
Suddenly, Bakura went limp in Marik's hands. What the hell? Marik thought as he ceased his relentless fucking of the other man. "Bakura?"
Quicker than humanly possible, Bakura was up on his knees, his back pressed against Marik's chest. One hand wound itself around Marik's head, holding tightly onto his hair. The other held the unsheathed Millennium Rod to Marik's bare neck, the cold metal pinching the sensitive skin.
"Either you let me enjoy this as well, or I swear to Ra I'll slit your throat." Bakura's voice was wrapped in hate and anger and Marik knew when it was time to stop playing with the ancient spirit.
He wrapped his arms around Bakura's middle and pressed his lips to his ear. "Okay," he whispered before he licked the ear. Bakura's muscles relaxed a little, but not much, as he slowly bent back over. "Are you going to hold on to that?" Marik asked as he bent over Bakura and kissed his back over and over in an apologetic type of way.
"Mhm. Now get on with it." Bakura tilted his hips so that Marik moved inside of him.
"Mmmm. You're bleeding." Marik was not referring to the scratch marks from before.
"I'm aware, Marik. Just get on with it before I decide I'm done playing at all." Bakura let his head fall to the floor.
Marik sighed and pulled all the way out, making Bakura yelp. "Marik, what the-?"
Before he could finish his question, Marik flipped Bakura on his back and lined himself back up. "It's just easier this way," he lied. What he actually wanted was to be able to lay his lips on the other's while they fucked. It somehow made it more personal.
Bakura grunted and wrapped his legs around Marik's waist, silently signaling for him to hurry up. Marik once again pushed past the ring of muscle, this time slower, and let the burning heat of Bakura surround him. He moaned and let his face fall to the crook of Bakura's neck.
"Move." Bakura commanded and Marik obliged. He started off slow and changed his angles, wanting to hit that one spot that would make Bakura melt in his hands.
"Unghh," Bakura moaned and bucked his hips up. There it is. Marik thought as he steadied himself, making sure to hit that spot with each and every powerful thrust. "Dammit, Marik," Bakura mumbled into the mane of blond hair.
As Marik picked up his speed, he allowed one of his hands to find its way to Bakura's dripping erection. As soon as he grabbed ahold of the painfully hard penis, Bakura moaned and tightened his grip around Marik's neck.
"God…you feel…so good…" Marik gasped out.
"Don't. Talk." Bakura bit Marik's ear and began to suck on his neck and collarbone, making the other moan out and tighten his grip on Bakura's manhood.
After a few minutes of the easy paced sex and fondling, Bakura roughly bit Marik's collarbone and growled, "Faster."
Marik wasn't going to argue. He snapped his hips back and forth, picking up speed as he went. His hand tried to move in times with his thrusts, but he got off rhythm. He didn't care, though. All coherent thought had left his head the minute he began to fuck the body beneath him faster. He was losing himself and that was okay, so long as Bakura lost himself first.
Both men were moaning and bucking and sweating and neither wanted to hit their release before the other. Every little thing in this world was a game and both Marik and Bakura would be damned if they lost. But someone always has to lose.
Marik slowed his pace, wanting Bakura to come before him. "No." Bakura warned, slammed the naked edge of the Millennium Rod into Marik's throat, causing him to cough. So much for that idea.
Picking up his pace, Marik decided he didn't care who was first, so long as he reached that sweet nirvana soon. Bakura flexed his inner muscles around Marik's painful erection, making the tightness almost unbearable. Two more erratic thrust and Marik was sent over the edge. He stopped moving as he emptied himself directly onto Bakura's prostate.
Bakura, hardly being able to hold himself back, squeezed his eyes shut and clamped every muscle in his body until he was sure Marik was finished. When a moan escaped Marik and Bakura no longer felt pressure on his prostate, he relaxed and allowed himself to let go. He came, hard, all over his chest and Marik's. He also let a small sigh escape his lips, basking in the heavenly afterglow of an orgasm.
The two men laid there for what seemed like forever, neither moving. After a few minutes, Marik pushed himself up on his elbows and gazed down at Bakura. He kissed him on the lips. Bakura kissed back. And then both men realized what that meant and got really angry about it.
Marik quickly pulled out and found his pants, his face starting to turn red. Bakura gasped as he felt Marik and what was left of his orgasm leave him feeling empty. He groaned and quickly turned onto his stomach so that Marik wouldn't see how hot his face was getting.
A pair of pants hit Bakura's head. "Hey." He said and he grabbed them and slithered into them, his back and ass more sore than he would have liked.
"Can I have that back now." Marik held out a hand after he stretched his tank top over his head.
Bakura handed him the Millennium Rod and its casing. Marik snatched it out of his hands and turned to leave. Then he stopped, turned back around, and helped Bakura off the floor.
"I don't need help, Marik."
"I know." Marik didn't let go of Bakura's wrist. "If I see Ryou, I'll call you." Then he turned and opened the front door. Before closing it behind him, he looked Bakura straight in the eye and said, "You busy tomorrow?" A smile crept onto Marik's tan face.
"Fuck off." Bakura threw what was left of his mutilated shirt at the closing door.
Now that Marik was gone, Bakura sighed and turned to go to his room. He had a slight limp, but he knew it would go away soon. He discarded his pants and grabbed a towel, heading to the bathroom. He noticed his cellphone on his dresser and picked it up.
20 missed calls.
"Oh, come on. That's a bit excessive," he said out loud as he checked who they were from (although he already knew). Ryou. Bakura sighed and clicked his phone off. He could call his hikari back later after he hide the evidence of his afternoon activities.
As Bakura slowly got into the bath he drew himself, he smiled. Then he began to laugh like that mad man he was. "Oh Marik," he called out to the empty house. "You always leave thinking you've won, but you never realize that I had complete control over the situation at all times. Oh damn, I'm good."
With that, Bakura washed himself up, cleaned the house, and called Ryou back, telling him had been sleeping before and he wished the little bugger would come home and cook him some god damn supper.
Whew. Finally finished another story. This was sort of my warm up, get-back-into-writing story, so sorry it's not the best. The characters are super out of characters, which bothers me, but not enough to fix it. I gotta get to know them again before I write again. Anyway, thanks for reading and I hoped you enjoyed most of it!