Believe it or not, I was listening to Dramatic by Yuki while writing this :D it's my new inspiration music. Very happy, I think.
Bakura no longer kept his knives hidden. They were everywhere: strewn across tables, piled in drawers, anywhere they wouldn't be in danger of being stepped on. The only danger was Bakura picking one up and chasing Marik playfully around the room, catching him and pinning him to the floor.
Marik felt closer to Bakura than he ever had, and not just because of their mingled blood. Having his life in his lover's hands was an overwhelming experience that neither of them could get enough of.
There had been a chase recently, leading Bakura upstairs and into their room. Clothes were swiftly removed, and Bakura smiled over his prey.
"Gods, Bakura, please!" shouted Marik, grabbing Bakura's wrist with both hands and attempting to pull the blade closer. The white-haired spirit was far stronger than him, however, and continued down at his own pace. The insides of Marik's thighs were saved for special occasions; the first scars had already healed and his bronze skin was flawless. Bakura was focusing on his chest, having outlined three of his ribs with blood. He was going to stop and take the Egyptian, but Marik wasn't done with the sadistic foreplay.
"Marik, no more. You can't overdo it; you'll lose too much blood." Marik shook his head, the action making him dizzy. He coughed a few times and slumped back to the pillows, his body reacting to the cold and lack of proper blood levels. "I'm fine Bakura. Keep going, please!" But his lover was having none of it, pulling swiftly away from the bed. Marik sat up, delirious, and tried to get out as well, but Bakura pushed him down and kissed along his wounds.
There was a silence where no one was breathing. Bakura was going to move away, but Marik wrapped his arms around him and held him down. Bakura laughed, pulling back just enough to lie next to Marik and pull him closer still. "I don't think you're ready for anymore just now, Marik. Give it a minute." The Egyptian sighed, closing his eyes and trying not to focus on the slight stinging of the cuts. Bakura closed his eyes as well, breathing in Marik's warm smell.
Bakura woke up slowly, his body colder than when Marik was next to him, but still comfortably warm. He sighed, his eyes still closed. Marik must have found the thermostat and turned it up. It was a usually a little cold (~15˚C!) , but Bakura had gotten used to it.
"Marik!" he called, opening his eyes and trying to stretch his arms out above his head. They were already there. He tried to bring his arms to his sides, but found they couldn't come down.
"Marik?" he called again, a little anxious. His lover walked into the room, a switchblade in his hand. "Bakura, you're awake! I figured enough time went by for us to continue. I kind of started without you, though…." He lifted his arm, rivulets of blood falling to the floor.
"Yes, yes, that's all well and good, but can you let me go?" Marik laughed contemptuously, climbing onto the bed and straddling Bakura. "It's just a little more fun for us. Bondage is no worse than what we do." Bakura felt a warmth in his chest, the way Marik said 'what we do'. It was special. Marik smiled, tilting his head and closing his eyes adorably. He would look like a kid, if he wasn't naked, covered in fading scars, bruises, and dried blood, and holding a knife. Bakura chuckled, bucking up to Marik brazenly.
"Mmmph… you think you're still in control," panted Marik, giving in to both of their needs. He scratched Bakura inadvertently with the very tip of the blade, smirking when blood welled and Bakura moaned.
"So let's skip the touching, ne? That pussy foreplay is only good once. We've already had enough from before. I think we should just get down to business." Bakura frowned, still trying to free his wrists from the top of the bed. "Where shall we begin, Marik?" he asked, his eyes smoldering with lust. Marik laughed, leaning forward onto Bakura's chest and kissing the underside of his jaw. His hot tongue was next, followed by the cool edge of the knife and the warmth of Bakura's blood. Marik laved at that too, leaving dark hickies along Bakura's jaw line.
"Hmm… how about you watch me make myself come, and I'll give you what you want. Excluding," he said a little louder, Bakura having opened his mouth to interrupt. "Letting you free." Bakura nodded, trying to make it look resigned, but Marik could clearly read his anticipation. "You've never let me see that, Marik. Are you sure this is that good of a day?" Marik's eyes softened even as he got up and pulled a chair closer to the bed, shaking his head. "Every day with you is that good of a day, Bakura."
He hunted the bed and the floor for lubricant, finding some under the pillow under Bakura's head. The spirit arched up to kiss him and Marik accepted, their lips meeting gently. Bakura ran his tongue along Marik's bottom lip, urging him to open his mouth, but Marik pulled away. Bakura groaned, shifting anxiously. His arousal, untouched, was starting to be painful in its intensity.
Marik put one of his feet on the bed and the other on the floor, leaning back in the chair. Bakura watched him slather his fingers in lube, resting his free arm on his knee. Marik put in the first finger, closing his eyes in bliss. Bakura tried more frantically to get free; his erection yearned to be buried in that heat. Marik wasted no time in adding the second, searching for his prostate frantically. He used his other hand to stroke himself, but it was his left and all it did for him was make him aggravated. He pulled the fingers out, his entrance dripping with excess lube. Bakura moaned, so close without having been touched.
The Egyptian switched hands, lubricating three fingers on his left. Bakura watched the transfer with wide eyes, trying not to come when Marik thrust all three fingers inside himself, pumping his cock and moaning out the white-haired spirit's name. He made sure to hit his prostate every time, his eyes half-open and watching Bakura struggle. There was a low moan and Marik opened his eyes all the way, watching Bakura come. Marik came soon after, his fingers sliding out of his abused entrance and his hand relaxing off his erection.
"Ah… Marik… I've decided what I want," panted Bakura, drained but ready for more. "Bring the knife." Marik nodded weakly, picking up the blade and almost cutting the bonds holding his lover down, but he stopped himself and waited for Bakura to continue. "Our safe-word is… red. Okay?" Marik nodded again, knowing exactly what Bakura wanted him to do.
They had done this twice before, but it was Marik who came up with the safe-words. They would cut, shallowly, into the other until they had enough, then they would be taken. Marik rather enjoyed this game; he couldn't wait to play it again.
He started right below Bakura's shoulder, dragging the side of the knife and leaving a hairline trail of blood behind. Bakura bit his bottom lip, letting his arms go lax and bending his elbows slightly. "You okay?" asked Marik, cutting x's below Bakura's collarbone. The spirit looked like he was going to answer by the third little x, but he waited until the fifth and moaned a 'yes'. Marik smiled, lifting the knife and admiring his work. The blood pooled, hiding most of the cuts, and flowed down Bakura's chest to his stomach, which was covered in come. Marik tsked, grabbing a corner of the sheets and wiping everything away.
"Ow, Marik, stop," said Bakura when the sheet passed over the fresh cuts, but the masochist in both of them grinned. 'Stop' wasn't the safe-word. Marik straddled Bakura again, stretching over him and capturing his lips. Bakura sighed, bringing his knees up and arching his back so Marik pressed closer. Marik chuckled, stretching one of his arms over Bakura's and intertwining their fingers, the other sliding the knife over Bakura's side. The spirit hissed when Marik's hand jolted, catching him a little too hard.
"Bloody fucking red, Marik!" yelled Bakura, feeling the sticky wetness along his ribcage. Marik gasped, throwing the knife to the floor and staunching the blood with more sheets. "Bakura, you want to stop? I mean, should I… get something for that?" Bakura chuckled, tightening his fingers around Marik's and pulling him forward. "No… I want you to do something different."
Bakura turned his head and dropped back to the bed, shifting impatiently while waiting. Marik smiled, sitting up and impaling himself on Bakura's cock. "Mmmph," groaned the blonde, biting his lip. He held himself up with both hands on Bakura's chest, pushing down harder.
"Undo this shit," moaned Bakura, thrusting upward as much as he could. "The knife is on the floor, Bakura. I can't reach," whimpered Marik, Bakura's erection millimetres from his prostate. "Well get it!" he shouted, angry now. The Egyptian groaned, pulling off and getting up. He picked up the knife, hacking at the cord until it broke. Bakura didn't care that his wrists were numb; he grabbed Marik's arm and yanked him back to the bed. He thrust into his lover, holding him up this time and helping him slam down.
"Not… working," panted Marik, tired already. He had never ridden Bakura, and it was a lot more work than he thought it would be. The spirit pushed him off, turning him onto his stomach and pulling his hips up. Marik got a mouthful of pillow, almost suffocating, but Bakura plowed into him and his head shot back. Bakura held him on his hands and knees by wrapping his arms around Marik's waist and pressing his back to Bakura's blood stained chest.
"This better?" asked the spirit, smirking. Marik couldn't answer; at that moment, Bakura fisted his cock and stroked him to the rhythm of his thrusts. He turned his head, looking up at Bakura with tear-filled eyes and a single word on his lips. "More," he whispered, Bakura's already fast pace not enough for him. Bakura moaned, pulling out of Marik and turning him onto his back. The wound on Bakura's side bled fresh, splattering onto Marik's stomach, but Bakura didn't care. A little lightheadedness wasn't going to stop him.
He reentered Marik after a confirmation nod, startled when the Egyptian wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him closer. His thrusts were erratic now, too close to completion to concentrate on evenness. Marik didn't care; he was closer than Bakura and long, keening moans were spilling from his lips. He came hard, arching his back and tightening his hold on Bakura. All of his muscles contracted, the heat of his velvet channel closing down on Bakura's cock, and pulling him over as well. He filled Marik to the brim with come, panting over him for a good minute before pulling out.
Almost all of his come spilled out of Marik at the action, but he was prepared enough that it was still white. "I love you so much," sighed Marik, dropping kisses all over his lover's face and neck. "Mmm," hummed Bakura, his normal response to that profession. Marik laughed, petting Bakura's long white hair gently. Bakura got out of the bed, breaking Marik's hold on him, and nudged the blonde to stand as well. He pulled all the sheets off the bed, throwing them into a corner, then looking to Marik.
Even through his bronze skin, Bakura could see that Marik's cheeks were reddened from exertion and exhaustion. The Egyptian looked dead on his feet, as if he was going to faint at any moment. Shocking the hell out of him, Marik suddenly ran from the room. Bakura watched him leave and come back with one of their many first-aid kits. "I forgot how much you were bleeding, Bakura," said Marik, sitting down on the floor and inviting Bakura to sit next to him.
Having messed up more than once, Marik was very skilled in fixing himself and Bakura up. This gash was not as deep as it seemed to be, but definitely long. Marik had bandages over it in no time, after it had been disinfected and kissed better. Bakura wanted to chuckle at that, but didn't want to hinder Marik.
"All done," he said, taking a cloth and wiping the rest of the blood from himself and Bakura. "Thanks," said the spirit, standing up and falling onto the re-made bed. Marik followed him, crawling up his body to lie on his chest. "Do you think I've gotten good?" he asked, kissing one of the still-visible x's. "I believe you have. Though, you're still due for a little practice."
I think I outdid myself with this one. I don't think it's really angst anymore, but there is no genre for bloodplay. It's definitely not horror, or… well, actually, it may be (physical)hurt/(sexual)comfort. Makes sense. Also, MariBaku coming up :D
