I can't be trusted to not write while I'm supposed to be on hiatus. Fucks sake. xD

This is a typical Tia-Lewise work, so expect explicit sexual situations, swearing, and Marik calling people "honey" because that's a headcanon I just can't seem to shake off.

Just adding this on because there's no proper tagging system like there is on Archive of Our Own - this story does explore gender identity and includes a trans character, so if that's a turn-off for anyone, click away now.

The adhan had been called, and gradually the streets of Luxor quietened as many of its inhabitants hurried off to prayers. The sun beat down heavily on the city, the air heavy with the scent of herbs, spices and perfumes.

Through the quiet, two young men gazed up at a church, admiring the architecture with keen eyes.

"Aren't these buildings beautiful? The churches, and the mosques…well, everything, in fact."

"You're such a sap, Ryou."

"Heh. That's dad's influence. You know what he's like for anything Egyptian."

"That does explain why we're here."

Ryou and Touzo Bakura, foreigners in an exotic land, found a bench to sit down on, sheltering in the shade from the hot sun. Ryou was the younger of the two, a slender, soft-spoken twenty-one-year-old with skin pale as milk and hair the colour of fresh-fallen snow. Usually his locks hung loose down his back, but for the duration of their stay in Egypt, he had tied it all back, so it wouldn't stick to his skin when he sweated.

Touzo, who usually went by his surname only, was two years Ryou's senior and possessed all the rough edges that his brother lacked. His own hair, darker and bordering on steely grey, stuck out in untamed knots beneath the red hoodie he wore to keep the sun off his head. His face bore the scars of the fights he'd gotten into as a teenager, and he carried himself with an uncaring, brusque air. Only their identical skin tones and deep brown eyes marked them as relatives, otherwise, they were as far removed from looking like siblings as could be imagined.

Their father was an archaeologist, studying Ancient Egyptian tombs, and had been on his latest dig for almost a year. The brothers weren't close to him, but they enjoyed the odd visit to Egypt, so it was a good excuse to fly out from time to time, and they always brought back a few trinkets to decorate their apartments with or give to friends. This time, however, they hadn't found anything that took their fancy, and in between checking up on their father, they had simply taken to wandering the streets, exploring the areas unfamiliar to them.

Ryou leaned back on the bench, dabbing perspiration from his brow and watching the sparse crowds making their way through the streets. Among them, one young man stood out from the rest. He looked native, and yet his outward appearance suggested he had no desire to fit in with his fellow Egyptians. He wasn't overly flamboyant, but there was a certain allure about the pale lavender of his eyes, the flash of blonde hair contrasting with the caramel hue of his skin. He smirked as he looked sideways to his brother, seeing that he, too, had noticed. "He's cute, isn't he?" Ryou asked quietly.

"Shut up," Bakura muttered. His eyes never strayed, however, and soon the young man stopped walking, having noticed Bakura's stare. He raised an eyebrow at Bakura, who stuck his tongue out in reply. A look of surprise crossed the young man's face, quickly giving way to an amused expression, and he changed direction, heading straight for the brothers.

Without preamble, he dropped down into the vacant space on the bench beside Bakura, though his attention was on both brothers. "Ahlan wa sahlan," he said brightly in greeting.

"Ahlan beek!" Ryou replied with a smile.

"Ahlan," Bakura grinned.

The young man said something to Ryou that he didn't understand, and he frowned a moment before looking to Bakura. "Seriously?" he sighed, shaking his head at his younger sibling. "He's asking what we're doing here in Egypt."

"Oh…damn, I need to brush up on my Arabic. I suck."

"I'll say."

"Oh! You're Japanese!" their new companion exclaimed, switching into their native tongue seamlessly, shocking them both. "Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed you were fluent in Arabic. I was just wondering what brought you here, is all. You look an interesting pair."

Ryou laughed softly at that. "Our father's an archaeologist here in Luxor," he explained, grateful to be able to use his mother tongue. "We've come to visit him, but he's very busy, so we've just been wandering for a while."

"Really? My sister is an archaeologist too. Perhaps they know each other. Has he ever mentioned an Isis Ishtar?"

Ryou furrowed his brow, but Bakura nodded. "Yeah. Heard her name in passing a few times. Dad's name is Hiro. That sound familiar?"

"Hiro Bakura?"

Bakura nodded in reply.

"Wow!" the young man laughed. "It's a small world, huh?"

"Seems it," Bakura murmured. "What's your name, then?"

"Oh, it's Malik."

"Ma…lik," Bakura repeated slowly, but Ryou stumbled over his pronunciation, his soft Japanese tongue struggling not to replace 'L' with 'R.' Bakura rolled his eyes at his brother. "Your Arabic really does suck, kid."

"Hey, it's fine. I don't mind Marik. That's what everyone calls me back in Japan, anyway," Marik smiled. "Hey, um…this might be a little forward, but if you've got some time, maybe you'd like to meet my family? Put faces to names and all that. I'm only visiting, myself…I actually live back in Japan, and it's pretty awesome to have met people here that live there too."

If Bakura was interested before, he was rapturous now. Leaning forward, he surveyed Marik with curious eyes. "Where in Japan?"

"Domino. Do you know it?"

"Do we know it? We fucking live there too."

"Seems that coincidence isn't a strong enough word," Ryou beamed. "Yes, in that case, we must come and meet your family, Marik! I would certainly be honoured, though I can't speak much for grumpy guts here…oh, gosh! How rude of us. We haven't introduced ourselves yet! I'm Ryou, and my brother is Touzo."

"Bakura," the elder snapped. "Only he gets to call me Touzo," he added, jerking a thumb towards Ryou.

Marik's gaze settled on Ryou for a moment, confusion evident in his expression. Ryou felt a blush rising up his cheeks, and turned away, tugging uncomfortably at his fringe; to his relief, Bakura took charge of the situation, yanking Marik to his feet with one hand and holding out his other for Ryou to take. "No time like the present. Lead the way, Marik. Let's get this over and done with."

The Ishtars were not well off by any means, but Isis enjoyed reasonable comfort in her profession and was able to afford a spacious apartment in the city centre. At twenty-five, she was four years older than Marik, and living with their adoptive elder brother, Rishid, who assisted Isis in the day-to-day running of the local museum digs and exhibitions.

Ryou and Isis got on like a house on fire. Within minutes of them stepping into the house, Isis had practically swept Ryou off his feet with her chatter about work, and soon they had both retreated into the sitting room, mugs of tea in hand, lost in animated conversation.

That left Bakura in the kitchen with Marik, who was making up more drinks, and Rishid, stirring various pots on the stove. "So…" Marik purred, passing a mug to Bakura. "Tell me more about yourself. You look as though you've got some riveting stories to tell."

"Not in front of your brother I haven't," Bakura chuckled. "A bit too violent for the dinner table, I'm afraid." He looked down into his mug, recognising the ruddy-hued drink as karkady. He didn't care much for the stuff, but took a sip anyway. "Erm…well, I'm twenty-three, and I work for a tech company back home. Graduated from university last year and it's all been a breeze since then. What about you?"

"Not much to tell," Marik replied. "I'm twenty-one, and I live with my brother – not Rishid, I have another – and I work at a rehab facility, you know, the ones that help out kids who've been in trouble."

"How very altruistic of you."

"Nah, not really. It's a good job, though, and rewarding." Marik took a sip from his own mug, and Bakura noticed, with a wry smile, that his fingernails were painted a deep purple, almost black. "I moved to Domino a year ago," Marik continued, "and I like it there. A lot more going on than in this stuffy old city. I mean, the history's nice, but I've been surrounded by it my whole life, so I'm bored now, you know what I mean?"

Bakura had always very much enjoyed Luxor, so he didn't know what Marik meant. Nevertheless, he shrugged, opting to take another sip of his drink.

Rishid put his stirring spoon in the sink, and left the room. The moment he was gone, Marik let out a quiet giggle. "Thank fuck for that."

"What?"

"I've been dying to tell you since I met you that you're really cute."

Bakura rolled his eyes. "Fuck off, Marik."

"Ha, I thought you'd say something like that. But I'm serious. You're cute, Bakura."

Bakura shook his head behind his mug, exasperated. After a few moments, he held out his hand. "Phone."

"What are you going to do with it?"

"I'm going to drop it right into my mug and then laugh." Bakura's face was poker-straight, and Marik just blinked at him, unsure of whether he was being serious. Bakura grinned and flexed his fingers, gesturing again. "Idiot, I want to put my number in it."

A look of realisation dawned on Marik. "Oh, that makes sense. Give me yours as well."

"Sure thing." Both men passed their phones over and inputted their details. "And before you ask, no, I'm not on any of that social media crap," Bakura muttered as he gave Marik his phone back. "I don't like enough people in the world to want to see what they're up to all the damn time."

"That's a shame," Marik replied. "You're going to miss out on all my perfectly filtered and edited selfies."

"I'm sure you'll find a way to send them to me regardless."

"Oh, yes. Expect your WhatsApp to be flooded from tomorrow."

"I'd complain, but somehow that doesn't seem like a bad deal." Bakura shot Marik a wink, and got a sultry batting of eyelashes in return. "Okay, now who's the cute one?"

"Touzo Bakura, are you flirting with me?"

"Pfft. Don't flatter yourself, Ishtar."

Their banter was broken by the sound of feet plodding gently into the room, and a blonde-haired man traipsed in, paying zero attention to the occupants of the table as he raided the fridge. "Hey, akhun," Marik called, "did you see we've got guests? – Oh, Bakura, this is Kek, by the way."

Kek looked over his shoulder, a carton of juice in his hand. His eyes, darker than Marik's, locked onto Bakura, who gave him a blank-faced wave. A staring contest ensued for several seconds, then Kek nodded, closed the fridge, and shuffled off with the juice carton. Bakura stared after him, frowning. "Your brother is a bit weird."

"It's not his fault," sighed Marik. A saddened look haunted his delicate face, but he didn't further broach the subject, because Ryou popped his head round the door at that moment. Marik smiled at him politely. "Everything okay, Ryou?"

"Yes, thank you! Um, Isis is wondering if we'd like to stay for dinner. We have time, don't we, Tou?"

Bakura nodded. "Yeah, we didn't have anything else planned as far as I remember."

Immensely pleased, Ryou gave a thumbs-up and disappeared back into the sitting room. Bakura glanced over at Marik, who had hopped up to boil more water for tea, and felt his stomach give an odd somersault in response. It wasn't anything he hadn't felt before, but never had he felt it come on so quickly after meeting someone. He could only hope it would bode well for the both of them.

Kek was rather more talkative over dinner. He didn't speak much to Bakura other than answering the odd question, but he had taken a keen interest in Ryou. Both were fans of tabletop RPGs and horror films, though they refrained from discussing the gorier details in front of Isis and Rishid. It turned out Kek was Marik's twin, non-identical and younger by fifteen minutes, though he himself appeared several years older by his tall stature and bulk of muscle. His hair, the same shade as Marik's, stuck up wildly and deliberately in all directions, adding another few inches to his height and giving off an impression of well-structured laziness.

"I think we should get together for a games night soon!" Ryou said brightly to Kek, who nodded in agreement as he ate. "When do you go back to Domino?"

Kek paused to swallow his mouthful before speaking. "In three days. You?"

"We don't go for another week. I could add you on Facebook or something, though? And we can figure something out from there?"

"Sounds good," Kek grinned. "What luck that I'd come across a Domino nerd on our jaunt back home!"

Isis looked positively delighted that her brothers were getting on well with their guests. "I must chip in here," she said in her soft, sweet voice, "and say that it has been a pleasure to meet you both, Ryou and Bakura. Your father had mentioned having two children around the same age as Malik and Kek, and I was wondering if you would ever cross paths. I'm very glad you did."

Rishid nodded in agreement with his sister. "Do you feel as though you have made friends?"

"Definitely!" Ryou grabbed hold of one of Kek's hands with both his own. "This one likes practically everything I do, so I'm not letting him go!"

"Hey now, people might start talking," Kek laughed, a faint blush colouring his copper-toned cheeks.

"And this one's a grumpy git, but I think I can tone him down," Marik winked at Bakura, who kicked his shin under the table by way of reply. "And he shows his love with violence! I think you're better off with this brother, Kek, you love all that gory shit."

Kek blinked at Marik, then looked to Ryou, to Bakura, and back to Marik. Ryou gave a little self-conscious cough, and Kek raised an eyebrow at Marik. "Nah," he replied, "I like this one better." He flung an arm round Ryou's shoulders and squeezed, prompting him to giggle. "Bakura looks like he'd faint at some of the movies we watch."

"Hey, I take great offence to that!"

"Oh yeah? What's your favourite horror film?"

"Erm...Final Destination?"

Kek threw his head back and cackled madly. "Pathetic!"

Beside him, Ryou burst out into infectious giggles. "He isn't that bad, actually," he told Kek, "but he does have a horrible habit of eating all the popcorn within the first ten minutes of the film."

"Look who isn't getting invited to film night, then!"

"Ha, as if I'd want to sit and bore myself silly anyway," Bakura shot back, scowling at Kek. A small, petty argument ensued, which Marik shamelessly egged on and Ryou, laughing infectiously, tried to stay out of but failed miserably. Isis and Rishid, amused, cleared away the table and carted the plates through to the kitchen, waving away Ryou's offer of help. "It certainly will be quiet when they go back home, won't it?" Isis smiled at Rishid as she began loading the dishwasher.

"I'll say," Rishid replied. The faintest of crinkles around his eyes gave away the emotion in his usually stoic gaze. After everything his younger brothers had been through, it was a joy to see them upbeat and laughing again.

"Safer, as well," Isis sighed. "I do worry for them, you know."

"Hmmm…me too."

"You've seen the news recently, haven't you?"

"Been keeping tabs on it, yes."

"It's hard enough for us, being a Coptic family. Add Malik and Kek's…persuasions…to that, and we have a recipe for discriminatory disaster. I don't want to come home from work one day and find they've been arrested, or worse."

Rishid grimaced at that. "It may be time to relocate. Better for all of us."

"I fear you are right, akhun."

Ryou and Bakura had booked hotel rooms, rather than staying at their father's place, as it was always full to bursting with paperwork and artefacts that made navigating the place hazardous at best. After leaving Isis's apartment in the evening, Bakura slipped into Ryou's room to play some video games with him, then retreated back to his own room around midnight so he could shower.

As Bakura stood under the hot spray and scrubbed shampoo through his hair, his thoughts wandered to Marik. He wasn't usually one to take notice of the goings-on around him, much less the people that passed him by, but Marik was a lucky coincidence, and a damn attractive one at that. It was clear from their interactions that Marik had been flirting with him all evening, and Bakura couldn't pretend he been innocent in reciprocating. It had been a few years since he'd last had any intimate contact with anybody, so to say he wasn't tempted by the sultry Egyptian beauty would have been a complete lie.

Luckily for him, that temptation was clearly mutual, as was indicated by the message Bakura opened on his phone a few minutes after exiting the shower.

"I don't believe we said a proper goodbye, Bakura. Well…not the way I would have liked, in any case."

The message was in Arabic, so it took Bakura a few seconds to decipher it, but the picture that had been sent alongside it was enough to scream its intent and send his blood pressure skyrocketing at the same time. "This one better not be going on your Instagram, you dirty bastard," Bakura muttered to himself, suppressing a gleeful grin as he messaged back, "Is this one of your famous selfies?"

"Oh, no. This is for your eyes only, honey."

"We haven't known each other long enough to be using pet names."

"I'm sure I'll get to know you very well over the next few weeks."

"Why not start now?"

The phone was silent for several minutes, but eventually Marik messaged back, "Where are you staying?"

Bakura sent over the location of the hotel and the room number, then tossed his phone aside, hoping to whatever merciful god there might be out there that Marik was bringing lube, because there was no doubt in his mind what was about to go down. Suddenly feeling a little nervous, he began searching through his luggage for clean clothes that didn't make him look like he gave no fucks about his appearance.

By the time Marik arrived, Bakura had changed into his best jeans (the only ones without rips in the knees), thrown on one of his many band t-shirts, and tied his hair into a loose side plait. Judging by the look on the blonde's face as he let him into the room, he'd made a good impression. "Hmmm…you scrub up well," Marik smirked, looking Bakura up and down appreciatively. "Trying to impress me?"

"You wish," Bakura muttered, rolling his eyes.

Marik laughed softly, stepping forward, straight into Bakura's rather wide personal space. Picking up Bakura's silver plait, Marik twirled it round his finger as he leaned closer to Bakura, watching the pink tinge that had begun to spread over his normally pale cheeks. "I suppose I ought to give you that goodbye," Marik purred, "but I get the feeling it might be rather…extended. You see…there's so much I have to express before we part ways…"

Bakura had to resist the urge to yank his hair away from Marik's grasp and sneer at his melodrama. Instead, he hooked a finger into Marik's belt loop and tugged him closer. "I've all night," he whispered, "so extend it as long as you need."

That seemed to be all the confirmation Marik required. Quick as a flash, he released Bakura's hair and shoved him backwards. "Strip," Marik ordered, unzipping his biking jacket.

Well, who was Bakura to argue with such a voice? It gave him tingles down his spine, a surreal thrill at what he knew was soon to come. Grateful that his clothes were loose and came off easily, Bakura threw off his shirt and yanked his jeans to the floor. "I hope you came prepared," he grinned, now clad only in his boxers, "because I had no plans to be getting laid while I was here."

"Way ahead of you." Marik pulled a bottle of lubricant and a few condoms from the pocket of his now discarded trousers, "and I must say, I'm rather flattered you put those plans aside for little old me."

"Fuck you, Ishtar."

"Oh? Is that how you want this to go?"

"Um – "

"I mean, I'm good with either, really."

Bakura scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "I've always bottomed, if I'm honest."

Marik laughed softly, setting their "supplies" on the nightstand. That done, he situated himself behind Bakura, pushing him till he leaned forwards over the bed, and slid a hand up the inside of his thigh, feeling the paler man shiver beneath his touch. "Oh, this is going to be fun…"

Their boxers hit the floor mere seconds later, and Bakura didn't fail to notice that Marik had opted to keep his shirt on. He couldn't find the breath to ask him why, as Marik's mouth was trailing steadily down his spine while his hands palmed and squeezed at his backside. The rush of sensation had Bakura feeling giddy, almost high on excitement and lust. It had been too long since he'd last tumbled between the sheets with another person. "Jeez, you're shaking," Marik murmured against Bakura's tailbone. "Just how pent up are you?"

"I guess you'll find out," Bakura chuckled, though he tried desperately to quell the spasms in his muscles. It was all for naught, however, when Marik dropped lower and spread his cheeks, flicking his tongue around the outer rim of his asshole. Bakura cursed and dug his fingers into the bedsheets, feeling his thighs begin to quiver uncontrollably. The flicks became broad licks and gentle sucks, sending Bakura almost out of his mind with pleasure and anticipation.

"Too much?" Marik asked. "You're still shaking."

"N-No," Bakura gasped out, "I'm fine."

"Hmm, scrap cute, you're adorable."

"Fuck you."

"I'll be the one doing that, honey." Marik pulled back, wiping his lips. Standing, he walked round the edge of the bed and snatched up the lube, but Bakura slid further up the bed and grabbed his wrist. Before Marik could ask what Bakura was doing, the silver-haired man had leaned forward to run his tongue up the underside of Marik's cock.

Marik's breath hitched, and he dropped the lube to the bed, opting instead to thread his fingers through Bakura's hair, thoroughly messing up his previous attempts at neatening it. Bakura couldn't care less by this point. His mouth worked away at Marik's shaft, teasing him into a shivering, panting mess.

"D-Damn…you're good at this…"

Bakura glanced upwards, a smirk playing around lips shining with saliva and precome. Marik's lavender eyes were closed in bliss, his cheeks lit up an endearing shade of pink. Bakura figured he'd make this easier on the both of them, and shifted a little so he had a better sense of balance. Grabbing the lube, he dispensed a generous amount onto his fingers and began to prep himself while he continued to pleasure Marik, savouring the silky sensation of the lube against his skin, the tempting throbs of the heated flesh gliding in and out of his mouth.

After a time, Marik opened his eyes, looking downwards with a surprised expression at the sight of Bakura. "Someone's eager to get started," he remarked.

Bakura gave one last suck upwards, letting Marik's cock drop out of his mouth with a pop. "Aren't you?" he smirked.

"Of course, honey. I'm simply…enjoying the view." Marik picked up the condom and ripped the wrapper open with his teeth as he clambered onto the bed and situated himself behind Bakura, yanking his fingers away. "But I don't think I can wait much longer, Bakura. You've riled me up something rotten."

"Hurry the fuck up, then."

"Oh? I seem to recall you saying you had all night." Marik rolled the condom down his length and applied extra lube to be on the safe side. "I'm going to hold you to that, Bakura, so you'd better let me take my sweet time with you…"

He pushed in then, and Bakura gasped at the intense fullness. He tried to buck back, craving more, but Marik held his hips down firmly, setting his own pace. Bakura submitted quickly enough to him, content to drop his head to the mattress and fist his hands in the blankets, groaning with each slow, measured thrust. It was clear Marik enjoyed having the upper hand in the bedroom, dominating his partner, and that was what Bakura was used to anyway, so for the time being, he had no desire to turn the tables.

"You might just be – ah! – the fastest fuck buddy I've ever picked up," Bakura managed to laugh through his soft pants of pleasure.

"I'll take that as a compliment." A copper-toned hand slid round Bakura's side and down to his erection, teasing it with a gentle brush of fingers. "Judging by your words, you're hoping this isn't just a one-time encounter."

"Was I that obvious?"

"Do bears shit in the woods?"

"Shut up, Marik, and fuck me already."

Marik did just that. He pressed his hips hard and fast, setting up a steady rhythm that had them both moaning and swearing and clinging to whatever fabric or flesh they could reach. It was rough and impersonal, no trace of affection in their actions, and that was exactly the way they wanted it. Sure, this was likely to happen again somewhere down the line, but what was the point of muddying the arrangement up with that lovey-dovey crap? Bakura wasn't much of a cuddler, so he hoped Marik wasn't, either, and there was no way they were kissing afterwards.

Nope, just pure fucking...that was all he wanted to get out of this.

The bed squeaked, the headboard rattled, and Bakura had to bury his face into a pillow to keep his cries from escalating too much. He knew they were risking a lot by having sex where anyone walking by his room could hear them, and being thrown in a cell for Egypt's ridiculous concept of immorality wasn't incredibly appealing. But Marik's cock felt amazing inside him, and it was hard to hold back. "D-Dammit, slow down," he muttered. Marik, not hearing his muffled complaint, continued his frantic thrusting, but Bakura reached back and grabbed his wrist, repeating his words. "Slow down. Do you want us to get caught out?"

Marik scowled down at him. "It isn't my fault you're a screamer. Stick your head back in the pillow."

"Fuck you. I haven't been with anybody in years. I'm...a bit sensitive, alright?"

A look of realisation dawned on Marik's elfin face. "Oh...do you want to change position, or - "

Bakura was already pulling away, just enough for him to brace himself against the headboard and assume a more upright position; he still faced away from Marik, but this way he could hold the headboard in place to stop it rattling against the wall, and reduce the intensity of Marik's thrusts.

The Egyptian giggled in approval at the sight before him, and coated himself with another round of lube before slipping behind Bakura and entering again. "Mmm...I haven't done it like this before..." he whispered in Bakura's ear as the paler man tossed his head back and closed his eyes in bliss. "Very...intimate, don't you think? I figured you wouldn't want that."

"Shut up," Bakura growled. Marik was right, of course, and he hadn't even thought about just how close together this position would bring them, but Bakura's head was floating in clouds and his body begging for more, more, more. With one hand he gripped the headboard, and the other he reached back to thread through Marik's hair as he leaned his head on his shoulder and moaned his appreciation. Bakura couldn't get enough of Marik's warm breath washing over the sensitive skin of his neck, the hands wandering over his skin, the spicy scent of Marik's cologne and the sound of their skin colliding, thrust after thrust.

When Marik reached down once more to grasp Bakura's erection, he came undone. The tension, the teasing, the overwhelming urge to have Marik fuck him since the moment their eyes met...it all spilled out in the spurts of hot release that flowed over Marik's fingers as Bakura came. Spent and sated, Bakura released Marik's hair and leaned forwards to rest his weight against the top of the headboard, letting Marik continue to his own completion. It didn't take much more, after seeing Bakura writhing in orgasm, for Marik to tumble over the edge as well, and as he slumped against Bakura's pale back, breathing heavily, Bakura couldn't help the smile, the true smile, that found its way somehow onto his usually scowling features. He felt good. Better than good. It was the best post-sex feeling he'd ever had.

But he'd be damned if the pretty Egyptian tease knew that.

"Get the fuck off me, Ishtar," Bakura muttered, jerking his body weight back, and Marik pulled away with a soft laugh. He slipped into the bathroom while Bakura leaned over the side of the bed and pulled a packet of wipes from his luggage, using a few to clean up the mess of their coupling. That done, he pulled his boxers on and began neatening his hair.

Marik emerged after a few minutes, grabbing his own boxers and slipping them on. "Is it alright if I stay?" he asked.

Bakura snorted, his fingers busy weaving and tucking as he re-braided his hair. "Didn't you say you were going to take your sweet time? That was barely five minutes. Should I be disappointed?"

"I'll take that as a yes," Marik replied with amusement, and Bakura was a little surprised that Marik had picked up on his manner of wit and sarcasm so quickly. He jerked his thumb to the bed, indicating that Marik could get in, then disappeared into the bathroom to relieve himself and finish cleaning up. When he came back, Marik was sat cross-legged in bed, tapping away on his phone. "Letting your sister know you're staying out?" Bakura smirked as he joined Marik on the bed.

"No, but I'm letting Kek know...if he even looks at my messages," Marik replied. "He's probably bombarding Ryou as we speak. You saw the way Kek was looking at him, right? He's fucking smitten."

"He's outta luck," Bakura shrugged. "Ryou's not let anyone near him for a long time now, romantically or otherwise. If Kek can get through to him, I'll be impressed."

"Why? Is he -?"

"Not my place to say."

"But Ryou's into guys, right?"

"Yup. Kek's a given, I take it."

"Poly, maybe pan at a push. I don't make a habit out of wanting to know what's between the legs of his lovers."

Marik put his phone away with a sigh. "It'd do Kek good to have a friend in Ryou at the very least. He's...not well, to put it mildly."

"Physically? He's built like a brick shithouse."

"No, mentally, but I..." Marik scratched the back of his head. "I guess it's not my place to say, either."

"We won't talk about it, then. Suits me fine." Bakura yanked back the blankets and slid beneath them. "If you want a clean shirt, by the way, I've a few in my suitcase."

A flicker of surprise crossed Marik's face, mixed with a little of what Bakura thought might be tenderness, but he just pointed to his luggage and turned away while Marik changed his shirt. "Thank you," Marik murmured, smoothing down the Deathbat-emblazoned t-shirt he'd picked out. He was slimmer than Bakura despite their height difference, so it was big on him, but not overly so. "I didn't even think…thank you, Bakura."

"Whatever it is you're hiding, I don't need to know about it, but I know I wouldn't want to sleep in a shirt I'd just fucked in," Bakura shrugged. "Can I sleep now? I'm worn out and I get the feeling you'll be waking me up in a few hours for round two."

Marik giggled as he got back into bed. "You know me too well already, honey."

"Don't even think about cuddling up to me." Bakura scooted away from Marik a little, putting a sizeable gap between them.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"I fucking mean it."

"I know. No cuddling. I get it. But, um…" Marik twisted the blankets between his fingers, suddenly nervous. "Do you…mind if I kept the bedside lamp on? I'm not too…too good when it's dark."

Bakura raised an eyebrow, but he nodded, too tired to bother asking questions. Marik flashed him a grateful smile and hopped back out of bed to turn off the overhead light while Bakura flicked the bedside lamp on. Marik slid back under the covers and nestled his head against the pillows, facing Bakura, who was turned away from him. "Thanks for letting me stay," he whispered.

"Whatever," Bakura replied gruffly.

"We're doing this again when we all go back home, right?"

"Absolutely. Now shut the fuck up and go to sleep."