Author's note: Ehe, hi. XD; I'm back for the second (?) time this week, and I have some HET for any het fans out there. X3 Just a ficlet I felt compelled to write, after being inspired by some lyrics. :D It's Malik x Anzu, something that is oddly appealing to me. -shifty eyes-
Pairing: Mazaki Anzu x Ishtar Malik.
Rating: PG.13.
Warnings: Adult themes, implied sex, language.
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And Then
Love needs its martyrs
Needs its sacrifices
They live for your beauty
And pay for their vices
Slender fingers ran through chestnut-brown hair, impassive lavender eyes watching the serene expression on his companion's face.
For once, it was peaceful: there were no profanities being thrown back and forth; there were no sounds of doors slamming loudly; though, best of all, there were no snide remarks from the woman whom Malik Ishtar had learned to share his bed with.
Mazaki Anzu: a friend to his former arch-nemesis, the pharaoh; a dancer – also, an enigma in her own right.
When Anzu had first learned of Malik's betrayal to the Ishtar clan, she hadn't immediately written him off as an insane psychopath with homicidal tendencies – she knew what it was like to have a life dictated to you. Instead of judging him based on what he had done in the past, she had inwardly empathized with Malik's defiance toward his 'destiny'.
Malik had controlled Anzu's mind; he'd invaded her body, and still, she had found it in herself to forgive him – he was privately appreciative of this, and it had lifted a small weight of guilt off his shoulders. Malik's history of rebellion against his family still bothered him at times; even though he had helped the pharaoh – reluctantly – to regain his memories, and even though he'd been somewhat redeemed of his past, he still couldn't seem to forgive himself on the inside.
This was one thing Anzu understood.
There were often no words spoken between them: Anzu had learned to read Malik's body language; the way he muttered a greeting to her, the way he seemed to be constantly rigid in his movements, and the way he always looked as though he was experiencing inner-conflict.
At first, things had been thorny between them – Malik wasn't quite sure of how to act around Anzu; Anzu didn't know if Malik could be trusted, though she still understood him to some extent. What had been an accidental trip-up had led to a searing kiss that Anzu couldn't pull away from; a kiss that Malik couldn't restrain any longer.
Malik had found a diversion to his old life within Anzu: she assisted him in forgetting what he'd done to her friends, and she'd slowly pushed him back toward the brink of sanity – that which he had once feared he'd never reach again. Anzu, though, had found her empathy with Malik had led to something entirely different; something that she felt she could no longer control.
Just as with Battle City, Malik had spun a web of lust and questionable affection, drawing Anzu right into his trap and ensnaring her easily, without so much as a protest from the chestnut-haired girl. He prized her highly as not only a companion, but also as someone who would listen silently to his story without judging him; without drawing conclusions before the entire tale could be heard; without a calculating gaze.
A soft sigh drew Malik's attention back to the present. He blinked down at the woman lying in his arms, hair fanning across her shoulderblades. His expression remained blank as he reached to stroke Anzu's back hesitantly. After all the time they'd been in the company of each other, he still found it difficult to touch her without recoiling – unless, of course, he were caught up within intoxicating lust.
"Mazaki," Malik whispered into her ear, his lips barely an inch away from the shell. "Are you awake?"
Azure eyes fluttered open, a mildly perplexed gaze meeting the expressionless one of Malik's. "What'sa matter?" Anzu mumbled, rubbing at an eye as she mustered the willpower for a scowl, directed right at Malik.
"Nothing." Malik shifted Anzu in his arms until he could push her off of him, and he then sat up, stretching, finally gaining an expression: a smirk, of all things. Unbeknownst to Malik, as he stretched, the sheets wrapped around his waist began to slip downwards, exposing more of his bronzed skin than was necessary for that time in the morning.
Anzu rolled her eyes, pulling the sheet up and over her before she settled down against the pillow. "Can't you stop being such a jerk, for once?" she grumbled, skilfully ignoring Malik's bare chest.
"It's what I do best," was the wry answer.
Again, Anzu rolled her eyes, tossing a pillow at Malik's smirking face. Every morning was the same; almost a ritual they had created. As if on cue, the Egyptian ducked to avoid the pillow and slipped off the bed, a sheet deliberately secured with a knot low on his hip. He sauntered toward the bathroom, a sway in his step, as he tossed Anzu a seductive smirk over his shoulder – she could have sworn she felt her knees go weak, despite the fact she was lying down.
In response, Anzu huffed, rolling over to face the opposite direction, so she wouldn't have to watch Malik's teasing. Though, it was only a matter of time before she'd slink into the bathroom to join him.
And then, she would become his escape once more.
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A/N: Yes, well, I'm done here. :D Nearly the weekend, though! Paaaarty.
Anyway, any reviews would be greatly appreciated, 'cause I don't really know what to make of this ficlet. XD;