A/N: Bon Jour! 'Tis I, the upward glance, your friendly neighborhood fanboy. ;) So, this is my first attempt at Psychoshipping. YAYZ. I really like to examine pairings before I endeavor to write for them at length. Thus, I examined the nature of Psychoshipping, how I would think this pairing would play out. I pretty much love this. But that's just little demented old me. Hahaha Warning: there is some brief language and general smexiness. Hehe
Bakura lay post-coitally relaxed in Marik's arms. He traced his index finger across his lover's ideally structured chest in the same way he fingered the blades of his knives: with admiration and sensual delight. His digit lingered over the exact place where, beneath a few inches of defenseless flesh, Marik's heart rested. 'The human body is so fatally fragile,' he thought. 'It would be so easy...'
"I could kill you right now," Bakura mused aloud, as one would tell the time.
"That you could, Bakura. But I know you wouldn't."
"Really? Don't you know who I am?"
"Yes. That's the source of my certainty."
"What do you mean." Bakura's voice was coldly even as it struggled out from between his teeth.
"There would be no pleas to collect from the area surrounding your feet. There would be no screams, no fear dancing in my eyes, and no wretched sobs for you to guzzle down your pretty throat like so much cheap champagne. You're a sadist Bakura. You require a harvest. What would you do if you encountered a barren field?" Marik's tone remained indifferent through the entire delivery, as if he took no delight in bringing Bakura to his knees. This only underscored how handily he had defeated the Thief.
"That doesn't detract from the fact that I hold your life in my hands!" He knew his anger was more fodder for Marik. He didn't care at this point.
"So? Nothing matters, Bakura. We all die eventually. Whether you cut my heart out now, or I get cancer forty years down the road, it makes not a quantum of difference. We have to find pleasure where we can. For people like us, it's our only solace. You wouldn't jeopardize yours; You're too narcissistic for that. But," Marik paused for emphasis, "There is a pleasure greater than that of your holding my life in your hands at play here."
"What, pray tell, would that be?"
"The pleasure you derive, from the fact that I hold yours in mine."
Bakura took an intake of breath, but said nothing. He himself wasn't even conscious of this. That didn't negate the verity of Marik's statement.
"When a sadist encounters a superior, in this case a rational psychotic—which, consequently is not a contradiction in terms—he becomes a masochist. It's practical, for he doesn't have to fight for a domination he has no hopes of winning. But, more than that, he gets the luxury of submitting to a worthy adversary. Doesn't it get tiresome, Baku, always having to pull the strings?"
Marik's mocking was palpable, yet it held no hurt for Bakura. "I suppose..."
"It's not fun always knowing you can win, is it? That's just another form of impotence. The impotence of too much power. Tell me, what's more delicious, breaking a few of Ryou's ribs, or having me fuck the living daylights out of you, not stopping no matter how much you bleed?" Marik felt Bakura hardening against him, and knew he would receive no better answer.
"Your so obvious, my albino friend."
"But...what do you get out of this?"
"I? I get the best lover I've ever had. Unlimited pleasure whenever I want it. I need you."
Bakura laughed silently onto Marik's shoulder. "Don't get any delusions of grandeur so soon, Baku. My admitting it only serves to demonstrate my dominance. See, you cannot admit your need for me, yet I say it as easily as 'Today is Tuesday.'" Bakura stopped mid-chuckle, "Hm. I knew that would cease your childish guffaws. At any rate, what I want most on this Earth is my own happiness. And, as a corollary, what I want most on this Earth is you."
Bakura knew this was their own depraved version of love. Dominance and submission. Pleasure and pain. What did it matter? 'This is what I want...' he thought, 'that's sanction enough.'
"Marik, do you know what we are?"
"I can think of several responses to that, darling."
"I guess you could...I was thinking that we were nonexistent-soul mates."
"Ha! Cute, Bakura. Now shut up."
As their moans mingled with the midnight air, they forged the greatest relationship the world could hope see: a relationship built on mutual understanding, and what's more, mutual benefit.