It hurt.

It hurt so much.

Malik wondered if, maybe, he was dying. But, no, death would be far too easy for him. Death would be amazing compared to this. This pain… This ripping and burning, this searing agony that set his back alight with fire.

And there's someone laughing, in the background. Someone laughing softly to themself while he lies there whimpering and biting back the urge to scream. He thinks it might be his father. How fucked up is that, he wonders, that his father is getting some twisted amusement out of hurting him.

He shook himself, and through the pain of the memory he managed to laugh at the thought. Nowadays he got the same kind of sadistic satisfaction from hurting people, he'd admit. Not from anyone he liked, usually - he winced at the thought of hurting Ryou past the point that was alright with the Bandit King. He couldn't bring himself to pin the man down, tie him up, and trace a blade over his skin because he knew that, deep down, that would scare him. He knew that no matter how much Ryou acted like it was okay, he'd be terrified.

Or at least he thought he would be.

"Stay awake, Malik," His father murmured. "Do not fall asleep. You have to stay awake."

He wasn't sure why he needed to stay awake. Is it because he wouldn't be in so much pain if he was asleep? Was it because his father wanted to listen to him whimper?

He supposed it was probably a mixture of both.

"Don't you fall out on me, boy. Your awakening will not be pleasant."

He wasn't sure how he managed to stay awake through the rest of it, but he would guess that it was probably fear at the thought of how his father would wake him up. Would he pour salt in the wounds? Trace over them with a scorching piece of metal?

His thoughts brought a shudder to him even now.

Gods, why was he thinking about this? Usually he could push these memories to the back of his mind, bury them under memories of Marik's rough touches and Ryou's soft lips… But not tonight, it seemed. Tonight he was ravaged by memories of the cold. Of the dark. Of metal piercing the skin of his back.

He tried, for possibly the thousandth time, to shake the memories away. To replace them. To focus on something else.

He wasn't sure if he was thankful for the turn they took.

"Who the fuck are you?" Marik stared down at him where he lay, gasping for breath, on the ground. "And what the fuck are you doing out here?"

"M-malik," He choked out. "M-my name is Malik…" He had to suck in a few more breaths before he could say, "I d-don't know where I am."

His lavender eyes seemed to soften a bit at that, lips forming into a neutral line instead of an irritated frown. "Where are you from?"

"The tomb…" Malik finally managed to calm himself a bit. "The tomb of Pharaoh Seto."

"You poor thing." Marik said immediately. "How did you…?"

"I… I just ran. My brother and sister came with me but… I l-lost them."

"Hmph. How about you stay with me?"

Even as sheltered as he was, Malik knew lust when he saw it. "I… I r-really shouldn't…"

"You're certainly not wrong about that." Marik grinned. "But what other choice do you have?"

He knew Marik was right.

He didn't learn his name until that night, right before he found himself full up with a thick, throbbing cock. Tears had pricked at his eyes, lower lip wobbling a bit, but he'd fought through it because he'd had worse.

And, really, after the first few thrusts it didn't feel so bad. It was kind of nice, honestly, and Marik was moving slowly for him this time.

By the end of it he was a whimpering mess who'd cum two or three times before Marik had finally finished. The older teen had been gracious enough to pull out of him before he spilt, thankfully, and to toss him a towel to clean himself with before he sauntered off to his tent and ducked inside. Malik had wiped himself down, done his best to clean his tunic off, and curled up on the sand near the fire.

He woke to Marik nudging him with a toe and asking him if he had any other clothes.

When he shook his head, Marik just snorted and threw a somewhat large tunic at him. He'd changed quickly, careful not to show him his back, and then they'd set off for the nearest town. It wasn't until they were already in town that he learned what Marik was trying to do. He was trying to get the money to go to Japan to track down some guy he had some quarrel or another with.

Malik really didn't care, but sticking around Marik gave him a place to sleep and the feeling of being protected.

He bit his lip, now, reliving in earnest the feelings of fear and insecurity. He had been so scared of Marik seeing his scars. So insecure about his whole body just because of his back. He thought Marik would take one look at his scars, think he was 'damaged', and leave him stranded in the middle of the desert.

It hadn't happened that way.

"Little tomb keeper~!" Marik called.

It was his 'affectionate' nickname for him. It drudged up more bad memories than he cared to admit, and certainly didn't make him feel loved or wanted.

And, unfortunately, at the moment he was in the middle of changing. "I'm in the bedroom, Marik!" He called, regardless, thinking he'd have ample time to pull his shirt over his head before Marik could open the door.

He was wrong, and he knew he was wrong when he heard the intake of breath from the doorway. There was a rush of steps toward him that made him falter, midway through lifting the shirt. Calloused hands gripping just below the carvings in an almost angry way. "What are these meant to be, little tomb keeper?"

Malik was far too overwhelmed to respond to him, eyes welling up with tears at the memory of what they were and where they came from. He did try to form an answer, but all that came out was a strangled sounding sob.

That was the first time Marik ever held him. He sat down on the edge of the bed and tugged him into his lap, arms circling him and holding him close. He didn't chide him for crying, didn't try to make him stop. He just sat there, and when the sobbing dwindled to hiccups and somewhat erratic breathing, he asked, "Do they hurt?"

Malik relished the ability to be able to shake his head in reply.

"Good."

Malik didn't know what he was expecting, after that, but whatever it was it didn't happen. He would have guessed that a, "I'm the only one allowed to hurt you," would follow the statement, or that maybe Marik would ask more questions. But he didn't say anything else. He scarcely even moved, for a while.

"Was…" Malik swallowed, throat sticky, "Was there something you wanted to tell me, Marik?"

"Hm? Oh. Yeah, actually."

"What is it?" Malik wasn't sure when he'd buried his face in Marik's shoulder, but he lifted it now to look him in the eye.

He was sure he looked terrible, with smudged, runny kohl and a bright red, runny nose. Probably puffy eyes, too. They certainly felt puffy. Marik didn't seem to care, though, and Malik didn't see why he should either.

"We've got enough money for two plane tickets to Domino City in Japan."

Malik blinked. Two tickets? He wasn't sure what to make of that. He'd been expecting Marik to get the money and ghost him. Just vanish.

"What's that face for, little tomb keeper? You didn't think I'd leave my pretty pet in Egypt, did you?"

His cheeks burned. "I'm not pretty, first of all. Secondly, I'm not your pet." He frowned at him, but looked away after a couple of seconds, "And thirdly… Yeah, actually, I did. What use do you really have for me once we get there?"

"This might sound crazy, my pretty pet," Marik said, regardless of his statements, "but… Companionship, really. I've discovered that it's quite nice to have someone around."

He pouted. "Companionship? You just use me for sex."

"Not all the time." Marik argued. "But I guess my idea of companionship is probably twisted and wrong, anyway."

"Probably…" Malik sighed, burying his head in the other's shoulder again. It felt nice to be held…

"I gotta admit, though," Marik said before he got fully situated, "That holding you like this is… Nice."

His cheeks were burning again.

They were burning now, too, and a dopey smile played at his lips. Gods, he was like a schoolgirl with a crush even all these years later. The thought of Marik made him jittery. It set his nerves alight, buzzing with anticipation that would never be fulfilled if they just so happened to fail in their mission.

Oh, but they wouldn't fail.

They'd come too far to fail, now. They'd worked far too hard on this plan, put far too much effort into executing it. Failure was no longer even an option. They succeeded or they died, as far as Malik was concerned.

He doubted that Yugi and Ryou thought the same way he did, but they'd all agree that failing would be… Unthinkable, this far along in their plan. After all, they were just waiting for Yugi to get a strong hold on the economy, now, and then they'd be able to take the next step. The most important step.

There was, however, a distinct ache in his chest at the moment.

He knew what it was. He knew what it meant. He was lonely and he wanted Marik's body to comfort him, much as he enjoyed Ryou's. He wanted to be pinned down and fucked until he cried, but he could never be that vulnerable to Ryou. He could never even tell Ryou he wanted that, let alone get him to do it without chickening out at the last second.

Still, he couldn't say the idea wasn't appealing…

Oh. That idea was even better.

His hand trailed down under the blanket as he let the image take form in his mind. Marik's cock slamming into him with no mercy whatsoever, no consideration for whether or not he was in pain. And to muffle his moans… Oh, yes. His lips were wrapped around another cock that was all too familiar to him - long and pale and thicker than one would expect.

Each of Marik's thrusts forced him down on Ryou's length, and he was glad that his gag reflex was long since gone because otherwise he'd be choking.

Oh, how he wished it was real.

His hand sped ever so slightly as his fantasy turned toward a memory that he was (shamefully) rather fond of.

There was no Ryou, now. Nothing to muffle his moans while his fingers twisted in the sheets and his face was pressed firmly into a pillow.

It had been weeks since they'd done anything.

Marik's attempts to kill Yami had been entirely fruitless, so far. He was irritated, nerves riding higher than a kite. He knew a good way to kill stress, of course, but after Malik's comment in Egypt about being used, he was far more wary of the activity.

Oh, believe him, he wanted to. He always wanted to. He just loved how Malik felt around his cock, how he'd whimper and whine and beg for him to finish because it was too much for him.

But Malik had made the mistake of making some sort of snide comment about how bad he was at killing people.

He'd been shoved onto the bed with no warning, after that. He was given no time to adjust to being horizontal, either. Marik's hand closed around his throat and pushed down. He choked weakly, eyes wide and hands scrambling for a hold on Marik's wrists to try and pull the hands away. Tears began to form very quickly, and Marik wasn't ashamed, later, to admit that the sight made him hornier than he already was.

"I could kill you right now. Easily." He hissed. "A good twist of my hand and I break your neck. Close it too tightly and I crush your throat, leaving you to choke to death on your own blood while trying to suck in breaths that you can no longer take through your shattered windpipe."

He could tell he'd scared the younger male, of course. It was hard not to see the terror in his eyes. And Malik could tell that he could tell and it made him somewhat angry.

To his credit, he did attempt to appear brave. "What good would I be to you dead? You can't very well keep a corpse around to fuck on a whim."

He could see Marik thinking about it. Considering his logic. "Not for very long." The man agreed eventually. "I'd only get one or two rounds before your body broke." Regardless, he gave a harsh squeeze.

Malik had expected to be terrified by it. He was not expecting himself to give a weak moan in response. He wasn't expecting his back to arch up, eyes fluttering shut. He felt the tears leak out of the corner of his eyes, and even through the space between them he felt Marik grow harder. He felt almost disgusted by that.

Almost.

"You like that, huh, you little slut?"

"A-apparently." Malik had figured out long before not to object to being called a slut.

He'd pulled away, then, leaving Malik to open up his eyes for a moment. "Turn over." He ordered.

Malik obeyed, scooting up the bed a bit on instinct and winding his arms around a nearby pillow. A tug on his hip made him lift his lower half into the air. Marik yanked his pants down, and then Malik heard him undoing his own belt buckle. He already knew where this was going, but that only further cemented the thought.

Or, at least, he had thought he knew where it was going, until there was a sharp crack and the sting of leather against the skin of his ass. He gasped, bucking forward and turning his head to look at Marik. The taller was pulling back the belt again - a long strip of leather folded in half with the buckle meeting the end. Swinging. Crack.

Malik bucked again. "M-marik!" He protested weakly.

"I'm not stopping until you're crying." He was informed gruffly right before there was another crack. Another sharp pain.

Secretly, he loved the idea. He loved it when Marik made him cry from pleasure. When he made him beg for more. When he had him doing both before he was even inside of him.

It only took about five more snaps of the makeshift whip against his backside for tears to bloom in his eyes again and a sob to wrack his body. "Marik-" He gasped out, "please, I can't take any more of this-"

"Hm…" Marik paused, as if considering it. Then, suddenly, another crack. "Beg me."

"P-please!"

Malik wasn't sure he'd last long enough to relive the memory in its entirety. His gut was beginning to tense, already.

For the sake of it, he decided to skip ahead a couple of minutes. He knew what happened, anyway.

"Marik!" He cried out, back arching painfully while the other buried himself as far as he could in him.

He didn't fit all the way unless he forced it.

And from the start his pace was quick, far too rough for most people to handle immediately after starting. He gave Malik no time to adjust to him. Barely let him get over the initial entrance, even. He just pounded into him like he was dying and the only way to stay alive was to do this.

Malik didn't mind, though.

He wanted to be broken, shoved down into the mattress by thrusts until his voice was hoarse and the pillow was soaked with tears and drool, because oh he couldn't keep his mouth shut when Marik was in him. He'd tried many times but he'd never once succeeded. He didn't mind that either.

As usual, it lasted much longer than he expected at that pace.

Sure, he came before Marik, ass clenching around his cock, balls tightening and hot, sticky seed splattering onto their sheets, but Marik had the stamina of a fucking god.

He didn't stop, then. He kept going, riding out Malik's orgasm and the only real change was in his vocalizations. He always got a little louder after Malik came… The first time. And he kept going, kept pounding into him, until he came a second time and then, finally, Marik would cum as well.

Whether or not he pulled out first depended on the day, really.

Malik was not too lost in his memories to realize he was getting incredibly close to the edge. He could feel his balls tightening, feel the precum leaking down the head. It was swept down over the rest of the shaft to make his strokes a little less difficult and with no less than seven more pumps, thin ropes of sticky cum spat out onto his chest.

He wasn't sure when he'd kicked the blanket aside, or when he'd shoved his sleep pants down to his lower thighs, but he was certainly glad he'd remembered to. He hated having to clean up the aftermath of his fun, but it was much easier to do when it was only on his skin.

"Where the fuck…" He didn't bother sitting up while he dug around awkwardly in his drawer. He knew there was a box of tissues in there somewhere.

When he finally found it, he hastily wiped off the cooling sludge on his chest with one of the tissues and tossed it into the trash. For good measure, he grabbed another one and made a very rushed and weak attempt to wipe off his now limp cock.

That done, he pulled his pants backup and nestled back under the blanket. Closing his eyes, he was greeted by darkness, if only for a moment.

"Could you maybe, for once, I dunno…" Malik struggled for words, but lost none of the anger in his voice, "Treat me like a fucking person and not a human cum dumpster? Hm?" He threw his hands in the air. "I'm not your fucking sex toy, Marik! I'm done with this shit, okay? I'm getting my shit and going back to Egypt."

Marik grabbed his wrist, and he was prepared for a physical response of some kind from the taller man, but all he got was, "You're not going anywhere."

"The hell I'm not. Let go of me." He attempted to jerk his wrist free of the other's grasp.

"Malik, there's nothing left for you there. You'll die if you go back."

Was Marik attempting to be reasonable? That would have been funny if Malik's heart wasn't beating in funny ways and if he wasn't so damn angry he couldn't see straight.

"I don't care. It's better than being kept around for sex." He was lying, of course. He loved being able to be with Marik, even if it was just because Marik wanted to fuck him. Dying was, however, better than being forced to live with these stupid feelings he'd caught for him. He shouldn't be in love with the man who wanted nothing except his body.

"When are you going to figure out that I'm not just keeping you around for sex?" Marik's voice was exasperated, almost angry, as he released Malik's wrist in favor of grabbing his shoulder and turning him forcefully. Lavender eyes met at the same moment his back met the wall. "If I was keeping you for sex, don't you think I'd have picked up someone else by now? Kicked you to the curb?"

"Then what do you want me for?" Malik tried to push him away. He was too close.

"Didn't I tell you before we left Egypt, Malik? Didn't I tell you that I wanted your companionship and that I liked holding you?"

"What, so you want a fucking cuddle buddy with benefits?"

"That's not how I would word it." Marik seemed to hesitate.

"Of course it isn't. You never do word things in the simple way, do you?"

"I really don't know how to word it, actually. I'm not sure 'cuddle buddy with benefits' actually describes it, my pretty pet."

He groaned in response to that, ready to tell him to take that mysterious bullshit and shove it, but was cut off in a way he certainly hadn't thought of.

He sure didn't complain, however, about the feeling of surprisingly soft lips against his. Nor did he complain when he was pressed closer to the wall and a tongue swept over his bottom lip. He granted the entrance it requested, opening his mouth a bit and sliding his own tongue against the intruding one. He shivered, moaning softly into the kiss while their tongues swirled around each other.

He almost complained when they parted, but found himself a little too drunk on the kiss to say anything.

"I think…" Marik said softly, his eyes showing more emotion than Malik had ever seen before, "That I might be in love with you, Malik."

Malik brought their lips back together in reply.

And he fell asleep in the present with a contented smile on his lips at the thought of being able to do that again one day soon.