AND THE SLOW UPDATES CONTINUE!
It's mostly due to my persistent perfectionism.
Can never be satisfied...

But anyway. NEW CHAPTER, HUZZAH AND THREE CHEERS!
I decided to give you all some fluffy smut to make up for the crazy sad cliffhanger. Sorries.
But just warning you- it contains feet. Yeah. I know some people are oddly weirded out by that so I just thought I'd tell you ahead of time. In case. You know.
FEET!

Also, they ARE speaking Japanese, but it's written all in English so you and I can understand it and because the story is in English. So that means Bakura IS saying his British-isms in Japanese, or the Japanese-equivalent, OR if there is no word or translation for it, in English. So just... insert whichever makes the most sense where needed. I have never learned Japanese officially so am only assuming how things would go with the language barriers based on my experience with other languages. And I'm also trying to keep the integrity of his personality from the show intact. Even though this is pretty much my own version of that.

Anyhoo, sorry for the long wait, thank you once again for the reviews and faves, and hope you enjoy!

I own the feet.

-Rin Reiko

Bakura always gets what he wants.

He may be forced to do a lot of things he'd rather not, but in the end, he always twists fate back into his favor. That's his charm, his angle, his talent. And I've never seen it fail.

Maybe that's the reason why I depend on it so much.

Depend on it, and fall for it.

Like that one day, three years ago. I had been courting Bakura for some time, all done subtly under my sister's ever-snooping nose. She sensed a lot of things, but couldn't concretely place them just yet. I was visiting her every week for lunches, parading as a good sibling with considerate intentions. Not to say I wasn't intending to spend time with her... it just was never my sole priority. For I knew that if I came by at 4:30, I would see him, just ending his session with her, leaving us with enough passing time to exchange a glance or smile.

But today, we spoke.

"Ah, thank you Shizuo-san." Ishizu expressed to the security man as he entered the room from the hall. I was leaning against the opposite hallway wall, waiting for her to finish so I could catch another glimpse of those eyes. I hoped they'd smirk again in that way I liked. His expressions never failed stir new interests in me, and it was a pleasure I just couldn't quit.

That stare of his could drive me to do crazy things...

Which explains why, a second later, I found myself offering to wait with Bakura and the security guard while Ishizu took a quick trip to the ladies' room. A brief, hesitant glance was met with my offer before she decided to allow it and rush off down the hall. I'm sure she thought ten minutes couldn't possibly affect anyone's relationships in any kind of significant way. I'm sure she figured it safe to trust that her baby brother would let his reason preside over his hormones in matters of safety. I'm sure she had the hopeful thought that Bakura's real nature would present itself and that it would shock me back out of lust enough to screw my head on straight.

I'm sure she kicks herself everyday for leaving us alone.

"You're nothing like her."

I smirked and took a seat across from him. The one Ishizu usually takes. "How do you know that... Bakura, right?"

"Oh, forgotten my name already?" A smile countered the smirk.

"Does it upset you?"

"Pains me." He was grinning now, and I took it all in.

"Tsk..." I chided, folding my hands under my chin. "Already so smitten?"

"Smitten... ah... good word..." he mused, matching my posture by leaning in further across the table. Casually, though, so as not to catch any attention from Shizuo-san posted by the doorway, only just out of sight, but far from out of earshot. Bakura continued on, with movements so slight, it would take a trained eye to notice them. Or a fixated one... "But no, I am not smitten."

"Then ...what are you?"

There it was. The flash of teeth and curve of lips that sent a certain tingle pulsating through my spine and straight between my thighs. To this day I still don't know why it does what it does to me. But there it was, and there I was, holding my breath as he replied in that wonderful accent of is.

"Hungry."

I swear I almost fell out of my chair. Catching myself, my fingers threaded through each other to create a platform for my jaw. Probably to keep it from dropping to the table. Those eyes never left me as I recovered from my hormonal spasms, and the attention really didn't help. After several seconds, I returned the gaze.

"You're right..." I conceded. "That is more accurate."

"Just wanted to paint the correct picture, love." He said it to play up his British roots, but I knew it was more to tease me and my imagination. "Wouldn't want you getting the wrong idea."

It would be the first of many double meanings from him.

"No." I smiled back. "We wouldn't want that." Our knees were softly brushing under the table, my denim against his cotton uniform.

"Definitely nothing like her." I smiled more at that. "You sure you're really related?"

A laugh escaped my lips. "Oh we are. But she's not as bad as all that. You're just seeing one side of her."

"Shame." His leg slid further forward at that, rubbing against my calf. "If she was more like you, I'd probably be cooperative."

"That's quite a statement," I replied, letting my leg respond on its own. "You saying you're not cooperative already?"

"Oh, hardly. " A small chuckle rumbled in his throat. "In fact, if you hadn't been watching that first day, I wouldn't have returned so quietly."

My foot slid out of its shoe and made its way up his pant leg, sock remaining as the only barrier between us. There was a flash of surprise on his face before it transformed into pleasure, sliding his leg forward so I'd have better access. I could feel the hard muscle under soft skin, even through the fabric, and all it did was drive me to crave more. He was eager as well, I could tell, biting his lip occasionally as we held our positions. Remembering our conversation, I added,

"You wouldn't have? I really have that much influence on you?"

"Ah..." He smiled, suppressing some other reactions from our footplay. "Let's just say... I'm a sucker for blondes."

I grinned at that, foot still roaming. Leaning in closer on my elbows, I lowered my voice. "It's natural too."

A small moan was released, stifling it quickly in case the guard heard. His eyes glinted as he slid an arm under the table and caught my leg, bringing it up slowly til my foot was in his hand. I held a breath as I allowed this, heart beating from the rush. A faint voice in the back of my mind was chanting 'she could return, she could return, she could return', but it seemed to fade all too easily against the drumbeat in my chest. Strong, slender fingers traced their way from the top of my calf down to my ankle, over the pants, applying slight pressure along the way. I found my hands clutching the edge of the table for balance, trying to give him as much leg as possible without scooting back too obviously. This seemed to delight him as his mouth curved into another smirk, fingers trailing to the edge of the sock.

"I like things natural..." He answered, sliding the end of it down slowly around the heel.

I swallowed, "Is... your hair... natural?"

He nodded with a smile, thumb rubbing into my bare instep. I closed my eyes into it for a moment, enjoying the bare touch I'd been aching for. His fingers were chilly, but soft, despite the wear and tear they'd actually been through. His other hand was down there now as well, massaging into my calf under the pant leg. I noticed his eyes finally tore themselves from me to watch the door. Good thing too, because I was in no way paying attention to it. But every time my eyes would open to watch him, he'd return the gaze with a smile of his own.

I was getting increasingly fed up with my pants.

"So... Marik-sama..." His expression changed to impish at that. "What do you do for a living?"

I reeled for a moment from a particularly tender touch, hitting a sensitive part of my sole, before attempting to reply. "Mm... I fix bikes. Work... as a mechanic..."

"Ooh, mechanic. " He cooed, still testing out all my spots. "Must be good with your hands then..."

Not half as good as you... "Ha..." was all I replied. "Guess... you could say that..."

"In shape too..." I noticed his subtlety was waning as his arousal rose. Kind of cute, really. "You have those strong arms..."

I laughed, a mix of flattery and amusement. "I do, don't I? But then again, that's what happens when you adjust parts on your back all day."

Oh, I could tell he liked that. His grin was almost leaping off his face to dance around the room. "Well... I'm sure you're the best in the business. I'll have to see your work sometime."

I returned the grin, toes brushing against his bulge, producing a muffled sound from him. "I'd consider it an insult if you didn't."

He rubbed himself gently against my toes, fingers still playing with the muscle and underside of my foot. I sank them into the soft pouch underneath his hardening groin, like sinking them into wet, compact sand, and wished the table between us would disappear. As well as that clacking heel sound...

Clacking heel sound?

We both jolted upright at the realization, me banging the top of my knee on the underside of the desk. My sock came off in his hand but I made no move to retrieve it, jamming my foot back into my shoe bare. I noticed him pocket it as he sat straight again, fidgeting with himself to hide what we'd done. Taking his lead, I attempted to fix myself as well, resorting to tucking the sensitive mound further into my zipper area. We both winced in tortured unison, smiling at each other after.

She entered with a silent glare at the both of us.

"Ready to go... Marik?" Her voice was deliberate, knowing something had happened that she would not approve of, but unable to pinpoint exactly what it might be. I noticed she caught a wisp of a smile from Bakura and her eyes narrowed accordingly. He immediately self-corrected with a scowl, folding his arms across that broad chest of his, but the damage had already been done, and she turned to me with one of her famous looks.

"Yes, nee-sama..." I smiled, more at Bakura than at her, rising from my seat. That seemed to perk his spirits right back up, returning it with a subtle curve of the mouth. Her fingernails tapped impatiently on her arm, fretting behind her calm posture at this exchange. Turning back to her now, I slid my hands in my pockets to create distracting bulges around the more incriminating one.

"But first... I'll need to use to the restroom."

He told me later that he kept the sock under his pillow, and would bring it out every time he needed to be reminded of my scent. At first, I was disgusted, nudging him with a cry of "ew!", but it really was the sweetest thing he'd ever revealed about his time away from me. That even my dirty sock could mean so much to him, and bring him comfort. I vowed that if he were ever separated from me again, I'd bring him any dirty thing of mine he wanted.

To which he replied, "Just your underwear will be fine."

As crude as that was, I know one thing is for certain:

He'll be getting those boxers if the time ever comes.