Afterward they lay in the crook of each other's arms. Marik laid on Bakura's chest. "Guess you have a heart after all. I can hear it pounding in your chest."

"It only seems to ever work when you're nearby."

Marik smiled, his face washed in a drowsy glow. "Don't worry, I'll never tell anyone that it works at all. We can't ruin your reputation."

Bakura toyed with Marik's hair.

Marik looked up. "You know what's nice?"

"Yeah," Bakura said with a straight voice, "rim jobs."

They both started laughing. His tone had been so serious that Marik had expected something altogether different.

"You know what else is nice?"

"What?"

"I can say anything to you and you never get butt hurt about it. I call you an asshole and you tell me to shut the fuck up. I threaten to kick you out of the house and you shove your hand down your pants and start pleasuring yourself – that was fucking hot by the way."

Bakura grinned. "We've had a lot of fights, but I think that one was my favorite. I'm not even sure when the argument sex ended and the make-up sex began."

"What were we fighting about?"

"Uh . . Duel Monsters?"

"No we weren't."

"Pretty sure that's what got it started. It was about a subscript."

"We wouldn't get into an argument about something that dumb."

"Yes we would. We do. All the time."

Marik stopped himself from retorting. ". . . okay. Maybe we do."

"Y'know, Marik, your mouth is pretty when it's admitting that maybe I was right."

"Yeah? Your mouth is pretty when it's saying my name."

"Marik," Bakura whispered.

Marik looked up, surprised that Bakura said it.

When Bakura noticed Marik looking at him, he said it again. "Marik."

"Bakura."

"Marik."

Marik slide up a few inches so he could reach Bakura's mouth. "Bakura," he said in between kisses.

"Marik."