The Tomb of Fate

Chapter 4

WARNING: This is a Malik/Bakura pairing fic. If you don't like them together, or think shounen-ai is sick, you might not want to read. But if you're a Malik/Bakura fan, go ahead.
NOTE: This fic takes place in a different world than Yu-Gi-Oh. Bakura and Malik are NOT from ancient Egypt, and they do NOT know each other already or any of the other YGO characters.
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Rapturous Voice: I know. It's really strange… hopefully if I update more I'll get more reviews.

Later that evening, Malik and Bakura were both comfortably relaxing in their hotel. It was a shabby place, meager but passable. But, after all, they were out in the desert. They were lucky to even find a hotel.

The place was sparsely decorated, but enough to give it an exotic feel. The walls were of faded wood with bamboo details. There was a small potted palm tree in the corner. The beds were rustic and hard, and they were made of the same faded wood as the walls.

Bakura was not looking forward to a good sleep tonight. Those beds would provide a challenge that even he could not overcome. He might as well sleep on the floor.

But at least he would not have to worry about Malik. The historian had seemed to get over his problems with his partner, and now Malik was back to normal. Bakura was happy that he would not be woken up by the sounds of sobbing.

Each of the adventurers was occupying themselves however made them feel most at home. Malik was scanning pages of a dusty brown book, and jotting down snippets of notes down on some parchment, because they did not sell paper in this remote corner of Egypt. Every few minutes, Malik would flatten down the parchment, which was continuously curling up. Malik scolded it orally, just to make a point, but the parchment continued what it was doing, just like a naughty child. Eventually, Malik gave up, and set his book on top of the parchment, hoping that after a few hours the paper would stay flat.

Meanwhile, Bakura was bored. Lying back on the hard mattress, he stared at his nails for hours. He loved his nails. They were so pretty… he really should re-sharpen them. They were getting a bit dull. But he was also thinking of other things, namely… Malik. Bakura had become rather obsessed with him over the past few days. And Bakura didn't mind a bit.

The time passed so slowly, that more than once or twice Bakura could have sworn that the clock jammed. He often reported this to Malik, who always gave him some smart-ass answer about how 'the human mind responds to time faster when it is unoccupied'. But what was he doing, insulting his lovely Malik?

Malik sighed. The room they were staying in was hopelessly dreary, and he was most uncomfortable. Especially with that Bakura around. Malik did not mind him so much now; he was actually sort of nice. It was just that in the past few hours, Bakura had taken on a habit of staring at Malik for long periods on end.

But Malik assured himself that this was all in his mind, Bakura was perfectly all right. But it was still unnerving him, even if it was in his mind. Malik did not like his mind. It played games with him, toyed with his conscience. Gray matter my ass, Malik grumbled.

He stood up from his chair, and stumbled, knocking the chair over.

"Are you all right?" came Bakura's worried cry.

Malik began to stand up. "I think so… ouch!"

Malik's ankle twisted as he stood up, and he fell back to the floor in a crumpled heap.

"MALIK!"

He could only vaguely hear Bakura's voice as he blacked out, turning the world to utter blackness.

Bakura began chewing his nails and pacing around a room after Malik fainted. What do I do?

Bakura tried to think of something to help Malik. When he pulled back the bottom of Malik's designer jeans, he saw that the ankle was extremely swollen. He must've sprained it, thought Bakura.

Normally, he would have applied ice to it right away, but seeing as they were in the middle of the desert, that was not readily available. Yet he did know that heat could help swelling as well, and there was plenty of that here in Egypt.

The only problem was, that if Bakura took Malik outside into the heat to reduce the swelling on his sprained ankle, Malik's whole body would overheat, and that would not be good. He couldn't have Malik's whole body under a raised temperature.

But he couldn't very well stick Malik's leg out the window, could he?

After pondering the conundrum at hand for about fifteen minutes, Bakura reached a conclusion. He was thinking of where there was contained heat, when he remembered that the internal temperature of the human body was exceptionally high. And the best outlet for that was his mouth.

Bakura smiled. He knew what he would have to do. Yes, to stop the swelling, he would be required to put his mouth over Malik's ankle. It was a good thing that he wasn't going to wake up any time soon.

Bakura slipped Malik's sandal off, and gently held his delicate foot. It's so small, thought Bakura. Then, he slowly brought his face down, and put his mouth over the ankle.

Malik woke up suddenly from his unconsciousness. It just so happened that the first thing he saw was Bakura sucking on his foot.

"What the HELL are you doing?" Malik screamed, and Bakura was sure that someone in the next room heard it. As Malik quickly pulled back his foot, he accidentally kicked Bakura in the mouth, which started to bleed.

"I'hm bingihn dah swehllin' dohn." Bakura forced through his injured mouth.

"Liar!" Malik yelled, but then looked down at his ankle. It sure did look like the swelling was gone. Was Bakura really smart enough to know that heat counteracts inflammation? But for now, that didn't matter.

"Oh, sorry." Malik said slowly, as he realized that Bakura had only good intentions. "It just looked like…"

"Ah noh… ah wahs ahfrad ohf dat." Bakura said painfully.

"Understandable…" Malik replied. "Oh, and sorry about your mouth. Here, take some Kleenex. If you put it over the bleeding it will help."

Of course, Bakura already knew this, but he acted as if Malik was being a big help. "Tans ah lot."

Malik smiled. "Don't mention it!"

After a few minutes with the Kleenex in his mouth, Bakura could produce speech more effectively.

"Well, that was a laugh." Bakura giggled.

Malik nodded, though it was hard not to break out laughing. Malik had never had someone suck on him before. That sound sick, Malik thought immediately.

After a few more hours of chatting, which was getting more tiring by the minute, Malik decided that it was time for bed, and Bakura heartily agreed, which was not like him. Malik curled up on the right half of the bed with his bug dusty book, taking even more notes on the now-flattened parchment.

Bakura took the left side of the only bed, but had no book and decided to stare relentlessly over Malik's shoulder to read the book he was holding. After he finally got a good look, Bakura unhappily was forced to lay in boredom, because the book was in a different language that Bakura did not recognized. But he did guess that it was probably in Egyptian.

Malik eventually set his book and writing utensils down on the bedside table. He then shifted further to the end of his side of the bed and turned his back to Bakura, not knowing that the thief resented this.

So selfish, thought Bakura, as he did the same on his side of the bed. Not only did Malik have no need to separate himself from Bakura like that, but they needed to share body heat as the sunset turned into the cold, dark desert night.

But, Bakura guessed, it was only natural for normal males to not want to sleep close to other males. But I'm a normal male! Bakura pouted. But as soon as this thought escaped his mind, he questioned his reasoning.

In the next few hours, Malik fell fast asleep. He made strange noises and movements at regular intervals, but Bakura wasn't scared. Malik was probably just having nightmares about the tomb they were to enter in the near future.

Bakura continued staring and Malik's slim form. What lovely pajamas, Bakura randomly thought. Oh no, I'm going crazy! Bakura quietly laughed.

Malik suddenly gave a jerk, and flipped over to face Malik. For a moment, Bakura thought that he had woken up, but then he saw that Malik's eyes were still closed. Bakura sighed out of relief.

After waiting a few minutes, Bakura could not help but move closer to the sleeping blonde. Malik looked quite different up close. Even more beautiful, thought Bakura.

After contemplating the consequences of his action, Bakura decided that he could venture even further into Malik's territory on the bed. It was risky, but worth it.

Bakura stared dreamily into Malik's eyelids. The historian looked so peaceful, sound asleep in dreamland.

Bakura's eyes averted to stare at Malik's elbow. It was bare, because his pajamas included a tank-top. Bakura's body began to move of it's own accord, as his arm slowly stretched out.

It touched Malik's elbow, and Bakura was surprised at how soft it felt. So smooth, like silk… it's wonderful. Bakura continued to rest his hand there. This was heaven.

Bakura began stroking the elbow slowly. He could stay like this all night, just moving his hand back and forth; back and forth… it was wonderful. Yet, happy as he was, Bakura could not help but wish for more.

As he moved his head closer, Bakura decided that he was going too far, he could not stop. His muscles were not responding to his order to stop. They were moving his head closer, ever so close to Malik's. So close, he could feel Malik's soft, steady breathing of his chin. There lips were inches apart, constantly moving closer. Closer… closer…

Closer.

So how did you like that chapter? I could have been better, but at least it was a tad bit longer than the others. More action, too.

REVIEW QUESTION: Just for fun: Which character do you like more, Malik or Bakura? The answers I get might affect whose point of view I will tend to take… so if you want to see more of either, just say so!