A/N: What's this? An update? An actual, honest-to-God update? Yes, I'm back, with a fixed computer and no more writer's block, for the time being. As long as my computer doesn't get NINE FREAKIN' VIRUSES FROM GOD-KNOWS-WHERE again, I should be fine.
"Marik..."
"Dad? What is it?"
"Marik...you dishonor your family."
"Huh?" Marik blinked, tilting his head to the left, his sandy blonde hair framing his tanned face. "What have I done?"
"Nothing. And that's just it."
"What?"
"You're eight years old now. You're a strong lad, and yet, you do nothing. Nothing." Marik's father laughed. "That cur does more for me than you do, and he's not even my own flesh and blood!"
"But...I don't understand."
"Of course you don't. And you never will." Marik's father suddenly reached out and seized a handful of the boy's hair.
"OW! Let me go!"
"Do you know why you will never understand? Because you are an evil, disrespectful little boy! And you always will be!"
"Father, please, you're scaring me!"
"Evil boy! You're going to let your own father die!"
"No, father, I don't want you to die! Please let me go!"
"You're an evil child! The embodiment of the devil himself, that's what you are!"
"Dad, stop! Ishizu! Help!"
A young woman with long black hair hurried in and pulled Marik away from his father. As he was ushered away, Marik could still hear his father's insane rambling.
"Just you wait, you evil boy! You'll betray us all before I'm rotting in my grave!"
Marik woke with a start, cold sweat trickling down his forehead.
"What the hell was that?" he thought. He tried to wipe the sweat from his forehead, but his hands jarred to a halt before they could reach his face. He tilted his head back and saw that his hands were still bound tightly above his head. He gritted his teeth together.
"Dammit!" he yelled, jerking furiously at his bindings. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!" He slumped down. There was no way he was ever going to be freed. Not unless Bakura untied him and left the door wide open, which would never happen. Marik half expected tears of despair to start running down his face, but none did. There wasn't even that all-too-familiar stinging sensation that told him he was going to cry.
"I've been crying too much lately," he muttered bitterly. "I've got no tears left."
Marik sighed, his thoughts drifting back to his dream. Was it a memory? No, his father, even at his worst, had never treated him like that. Although Marik had to admit, many of the things that were said in the dream were painfully close to being true. Marik was doing something terribly wrong, not stopping the outlaw from doing these things to him. Not even fighting back. Just like his dream had told him, he was doing nothing.
"Finally awake, are we?" Marik's head snapped in the direction of the chilling voice. Bakura was sitting at the small table, idly stacking the coins that were scattered across the top of it. Marik felt his heart start pounding at the sight of the white-haired man.
"Don't let him know you're afraid," Marik scolded himself. "You can't let him think that he's won." But why not? Why shouldn't the outlaw think he had won? He had already stolen away Marik's freedom, bravery, and, most importantly, his pride. What was left to steal? Why didn't the outlaw just kill him and get him out of the way?
"It's boring unless you're awake," Bakura continued, standing up and starting towards the bed. Marik glared as the man stopped by the edge of the bed and removed his hat and shoes. Bakura smirked.
"I'm in a bad mood," he said. "Unfortunately for you. If you stay quiet and submissive, I'll let you live."
"Don't you touch me, you bastard," Marik growled. Bakura chuckled, crawling onto the bed.
"Don't act like that," he purred, moving closer to Marik. "I'd hate to have to kill you." Unexpectedly, the outlaw pressed his hips against Marik's, earning a gasp and a small moan from the boy. Bakura smirked.
"You see?" he mocked, rolling his hips slightly. "You cannot deny that you enjoy this."
"Yes, I can."
Bakura was mildly surprised at the boy's bravery. Usually he had people begging for mercy the moment he locked eyes with them. But this boy, this child was defying him. Despite the fact that he couldn't move his hands and was completely at Bakura's mercy, he was attemtping to fight back.
"He's definitely got spirit,"Bakura thought, smirking.
"Let's see if I can break that."
With a low chuckle, he nuzzled his face against the boy's neck, running his tongue along the smooth bronze skin. As expected, the boy went into a panic.
"Get off!" he yelled. "Don't touch me!" A swift bite made the boy silence himself. Bakura felt the tense body beneath him relax. The boy was submitting at last.
"Good boy," the outlaw murmured, raising his face to the boy's. he gazed into the violet, terror-filled eyes with a feeling of power. Staring into those beautiful eyes, Bakura lowered his lips against his prisoner's. He pressed his tongue inside the boy's mouth, enjoying the unique taste. It was sweet, yet slightly spicy-
Marik saw his opportunity and bit down on Bakura's tongue. He tasted a metallic, coppery liquid. He had drawn blood.
Bakura hissed and pulled his face away. He glared at the smug little brat before him.
"You'll regret that, boy," he growled. He raised his hands to the boy's neck. "I told you I would let you live if you were a good boy." His grip tightened slightly. "Too bad you didn't listen." He wasn't really planning on killing the boy just yet. He just wanted to see the terror in his eyes, knowing that the outlaw had full control of the situation. He wanted to boy to be filled with a sense of defeat and despair as he prepared to choke out his last breath...
Something slammed between Bakura's legs, making him see stars. He bit back a yelp, but a strangled cry escaped him as he fell. He fell to the floor and a groan slipped out before he could stop it.
"That son of a bitch!" he fumed inwardly. "That's what he was waiting for!" He grabbed the side of the bed and pulled himself up, ignoring the uncomfortable - not to mention freaking painful - throbbing that was now coming from his nether regions.
"You're going to pay for that," he threatened.
"Guess I'm not as weak as you thought, am I?"
Bakura was slightly taken aback by the boy's brash answer. Bakura Touzokou, at seventeen years old, could bring the bravest sheriff to his knees in a matter of seconds. Yet this child was standing up to him. Bakura couldn't help but feel a strange surge of respect for this boy. He was either very brave...or very stupid.
"This boy is different," he thought before he could stop himself.
Different? Absurd. Sure, normally when he took a prisoner, Bakura would kill them in less than twelve hours, but as soon as he had seen this boy, he had known that he wasn't killing him. The minute he had gotten a good look, he had felt something inside of him stir. A harsh longing he could not place, but it prevented him from killing the child. Even now, Bakura felt tht same stirring when he saw the boy lying on his bed, arms stretched above his head, eyes flashing as he glared at Bakura, silently but stubbornly refusing his advances.
It reminded Bakura of a time when he was younger, back in his village. The village cat had cornered a mouse and was slowly torturing it into submission until death was probably a welcoming relief. As the young Bakura watched in morbid fascination, the cat pounced on the rodent, clawing at it's soft fur and biting at its tail before releasing it. Each time, before running, the mouse had fought back, nipping at the fleshy pads on the cat's feet, as if trying to distract the predator while the prey made its escape. After what seemed like hours of this game, it ended in a spurt of blood and a cut-off squeal. Although Bakura had been silently rooting for the mouse, the cat had won in the end with its superior skills.
Bakura had later been beaten for wasting time when he should have been doing chores, but the way the mouse had stubbornly fought back in such a futile situation had stuck with him until he finally worked up the courage to tell his father about it.
"The mouse must have known it was going to die. Why did it bother to fight back?" he remembered asking.
"Because even though it knew the cat would kill it, it still had hope that it could escape."
"But why?"
"Why does it matter? It was a dumb animal that only existed to fill that cat's stomach. Go do your chores."
But this boy was not a mouse. He was much stronger. His will was harder to break. Bakura felt a flash of respect...and that unknown feeling that he couldn't name. Something inside him made it unbearable to see the boy tied up any longer. He pulled out a knife. The boy flinched.
"Beautiful," Bakura thought, immediately shaking the thought off like a bothersome fly. He held up the knife, the blade glinting.
"Do you promise not to run away?"
The question caught Marik off-guard. He blinked. "What?" The outlaw sighed.
"If I untie you-" he waved the knife. "-will you not try to escape?"
Marik's jaw dropped. This monster was offering him freedom? What the hell was going on?
"What's the catch?"The outlaw tipped his head back thoughtfully. He studied the ceiling as he pondered the question. Finally, he lowered his gaze back to Marik's.
"You fascinate me," he said simply. Marik was silent. The outlaw smirked.
"If you don't take me up on my offer, I'll have to leave you tied up. And I know you don't want to feel helpless." Bakura put one knee on the bed. "Completely at my mercy." He grabbed Marik's wrists. "Like a mouse in the claws of a cat." He held the knife against the rope. "Well?"
Marik closed his eyes and nodded once.
"You won't try to escape?"
"Well, I really can't, now can I? The window's too small, and the door's always locked. Even if I do get out, I'll be stuck in the desert without food, water, or a horse. As much as I hate it, this is the only place where I'm safe."
"Smart child, aren't you?"
Marik opened his mouth to protest, but before he could pronounce a syllable, the outlaw's lips were against his own again. Marik's first instinct was to fight back, but then the outlaw would keep him tied up forever. He decided it was best to just sit there until Bakura was satisfied.
Much to his surpiese, the pale man drew back after just a few moments, although he hovered mere centimeters away from Marik.
"Kiss me back," he murmured.
"You're insane," Marik growled. Bakura chuckled.
"Perhaps. But you want to be untied, don't you?"
Marik hesitated. He longed to put his arms into a more comfortable position, but he did not want to do...that. It was against the law! He couldn't!
But...was it really breaking the law if no one knew about it? If nobody saw it and never found out about it, was it really a crime? Surely anyone in this situation would do the same. Marik sighed.
"Fine," he muttered. Bakura's eyes flashed with triumph and he grinned.
"You are a smart boy." Marik glared at Bakura as their lips met again. After a brief hesitation, the tan boy reluctantly kissed back. To take his mind off of it, he watched Bakura.
The outlaw's eyes were closed, while Marik's were wide open. He actually seemed to be enjoying this. But whether he was enjoying torturing Marik or the kiss itself was uncertain. His face seemed almost...peaceful.
He actually looked rather handsome, Marik realized. When he wasn't getting off on tormenting Marik, that is.
Marik's eyes slid closed as he began to enjoy the sensation. It was wrong, but it felt so right. Marik couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed when the outlaw eventually pulled away.
"Good boy. You learn quickly," Bakura said with a smirk. At that comment, Marik lost everything that he had felt during the kiss.
"Don't get used to it," he snapped. Bakura laughed, slicing through the rope and freeing Marik's hands. The white-haired man straightened and slipped the knife into his belt.
"Watch what you say, boy. I think I'm being pretty damn hospitable, letting you wander free, considering you haven't even found the courtesy to tell me your name."
Marik sat up, rubbing his wrists. At least he could finally move around again. Then he realized what the outlaw had just said. Did he really want to know his captive's name so badly?
"He's letting me actually move around," Marik thought. "It wouldn't kill me to tell him my name..."
"...Marik," he muttered.
"What did you say?"
"My name is Marik. Not boy."
"Marik, eh?"
"Yes. That's my name," Marik said, noticing that the outlaw was silently heading to the small, wooden door.
"Where are you going?" he asked, cringing at the note of desperation in his voice. Bakura smirked, indicating that he had heard it as well.
"Now don't you worry your pretty little head, darling," he mocked. "I'll be back soon enough." chuckling darkly, the outlaw slipped out the door. A few seconds later, a thunk indicated that the door had been sealed shut.
Bakura leaned against the outside of the door.
"Marik," he murmured. "Marik..." What was happening to him? His knees were going weak. "Marik." his heart started pounding, thudding against his rib cage. His stomach felt odd. He had heard of having butterflies in the stomach, but had never actually experienced it himself. All that Bakura could think about was the boy that he was holding prisoner.
"What the hell is going on?" Bakura thought, tipping his head back and studying the sky, as if it held the answer. The answer was actually something so simple yet so alien that Bakura didn't even consider it as an answer.
After five years of earning a reputation of being the most cold-blooded, black-hearted creature to ever walk to face of the earth, after five years of ruthless killing and non-stop pillaging, the outlaw Bakura Touzokou was in love.
It's not quite as good as I'd hoped for, but it's better than nothing. I personally don't think it was anywhere near worth the long wait, but it was the best I could come up with.
R&R, please!