"You're sure Ryou isn't here?" Bakura asked breathlessly as they tumbled through the front door of the apartment. They'd been so caught up in making out against the door that it took Marik a few minutes to remember he needed to unlock the damn thing. In the several hours that had passed since their Senet game, they had sobered up, but their burning lust for each other was like inebriation in itself.
"Ryou, honey!" Marik shouted, grinning when there was no reply. "See? All good."
"This is either going to be one of our best ideas ever, or the fucking worst," Bakura muttered as Marik tugged insistently at his hoodie, wanting it off. He tossed the bulky cloth to one side, but when Marik began pulling at his t-shirt he drew back suddenly.
"What's wrong?" Marik asked.
"I don't…Marik, I don't think…"
Bakura bit his lip and gestured to his arm, pinching what little skin he could and tugging. Marik suddenly understood. He's so very thin…I guess he doesn't want me to see all of him right now.
"It's okay," Marik told Bakura gently, touching his cheek. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to."
"I want to," Bakura scowled, "I just…I know I won't be able to get into it if…"
"I know. Believe me, I know. I used to feel the same with my scars." He took Bakura's hand and started towards the bedroom. "I can still make you feel good with all your clothes on. Come on. I'll show you."
He led Bakura through, noting that, true to his lazy nature, he hadn't bothered with making the bed after waking up. Ryou was immaculately clean and always made sure to smooth down the sheets. But Marik didn't really care. He sat a curious Bakura down on the bed and dropped to his knees, peering under the bed with squinted eyes. "I'm sure it was down here…"
"What?" Bakura frowned.
"Aha, here we go." Marik reached underneath and pulled out a small red bottle with a pleased expression. Bakura blinked at him, confused. "It's lube, you idiot," Marik sighed.
"Oh. Ohhh…of course."
Marik set the bottle down on the mattress and straddled Bakura's lap, nuzzling his neck softly. "Are you sure?" he asked.
"Keep this up and I'd be crazy to say no," Bakura murmured. He tilted his head to the side, giving Marik more access to the warm, creamy skin. He kissed, sucked and bit down gently, drawing quiet gasps from Bakura, pale hands slipping under Marik's shirt and gripping caramel hips. He felt Marik's hands fall to the waistband of his jeans, undoing the button and pulling down the zip, but didn't push him away this time, instead moving to undo Marik's grey cargo pants.
"Lift your hips a little," Marik instructed, and Bakura did as he was bid, allowing Marik to pull his jeans down just enough to grant him access. Likewise, Bakura copied him, and Marik groaned softly at the touch of Bakura's cool hand to his erection. Bakura had no idea what to do, but the simple strokes of his fingers up and down as they kissed were sufficient to make Marik go nearly out of his mind.
"This might get a bit messy," Marik warned him through his groans, reaching for the lube.
"I can deal with that," Bakura grinned. "I'm wearing your clothes anyway."
"If you're staying here till you get a passport, I'm teaching you to use the washing machine. Lube is a bitch to get out."
"Shut the fuck up, Marik, and finish what you started."
"Now who's the demanding one?" Marik couldn't resist a teasing jab as he laughed and popped the cap of the lube open, squeezing some into his hand. "Yes, it's strawberry, before you ask. Not so good for actual sex, but it'll do for this." He coated himself first, then Bakura, and rocked his hips experimentally, bringing their burning needs together.
Bakura gasped, eyes squeezing shut. "Oh, holy fuck." He grabbed onto Marik's shoulders, hitching his hips up urgently.
"Is that good?" Marik breathed, increasing his pace.
"Fuck, fuck, damn it, faster - !"
Marik chuckled. "Take that as a yes." He gripped Bakura's cock more firmly, bringing Bakura's hand onto his own. Their touches were slippery, desperate, fuelled by a primal need, and Bakura couldn't hold back his soft cries of pleasure as they rocked together. "Mm, Bakura…" Marik sighed, leaning his head back, "I'm going to…make you come…"
"Yes, oh fuck, yes," Bakura whispered. His muscles quivering with the exertion, he collapsed backwards onto the bed, Marik leaning down with him, and crushed their lips together as their frotting grew ever faster, harder.
"You're so beautiful," Marik gasped, pushing Bakura's thighs further apart and all but ramming against him. Bakura just moaned in response, bucking his hips desperately. The friction between their sliding cocks was deliciously addicting and they both felt themselves approaching climax quickly. Being his first time and a little over-excited, Bakura came first, arching his back and biting down on Marik's bottom lip hard.
Marik winced and squeezed his eyes shut, not much enjoying the pain, but then Bakura let go and swiftly flipped their positions so Marik was on his back.
"Bakura, what are you – oh, gods! Don't stop that!"
Bakura had shifted down and slid Marik's cock into his mouth, disregarding the fact he was coated in sweat and a fair bit of Bakura's own semen. The sickly sweetness of the strawberry lube disguised anything unpleasant, however, and he fervently bobbed his head back and forth, hoping that Marik would enjoy it. He was right and more; Marik was crying out in sheer joy, clutching at the bedclothes with one hand and tangling the other in Bakura's hair.
"I'm coming, I'm coming – oh, fuck! Bakura!" Marik grabbed a pillow, shoving it over his face to muffle himself as he lost it completely and screamed out his completion.
Bakura drank Marik's seed down eagerly, swallowing without hesitation, and pulled back, wiping his lips on the back of his hand. He laughed at the sight of Marik with a pillow over his face, hearing his breathless pants and groans from underneath it. "I didn't know you went for autoerotic asphyxiation, Marik," he grinned.
"Shut up," Marik gasped. "I don't think I can move. Holy fuck, how did you even know what to do? That was amazing."
Bakura shrugged. "Lucky guess."
Marik threw the pillow aside with a sigh and sat up, stripping off his clothes to leave him clad in just his boxers. "Told you it would get messy," he smirked.
"Yeah…I think we both need showers again."
"And I think I need a nap. My hips are sore and I'm worn out."
"You're welcome."
"You go shower first. I'll change the sheets." Marik shot Bakura his best puppy-dog eyes. "Will you nap with me?"
"I've only been up for a few fucking hours," Bakura scowled, folding his arms, but Marik continued to stare at him with his irresistible lavender orbs. "…Fine. But I'm stealing your bathrobe."
He jumped off the bed, buttoned up his jeans, and grabbed the deep purple robe hanging off the wardrobe door before stalking out of the room. Marik heard the shower start up a few moments later, followed by low singing, and he couldn't help but laugh. Bakura sings in the shower!
He began stripping the soiled bedsheets, losing himself in thought. I…I love him. I must do. All this time I thought it was just some silly teenage crush I had, but now he's been so close to me, and knowing he'll be leaving soon, I…it hurts so much. He's always been fucking selfish.
He thought back to Ryou's words, that he was simply wasting his life out here in Luxor. It seemed he only stayed for his siblings, and even they were too busy these days to even see him often. He'd seen Ryou more than he'd seen Ishizu in the last six months, and that was saying something.
He was done. His fears of seeing Yugi and the others again paled before his desire to get out and live his life the way he wanted. And he wanted his life to be with Bakura.
I've made up my mind.
Marik tossed the sheets to the floor, deciding to deal with them later. He quickly put fresh sheets on, then pulled his mobile out of his pocket and dialled a number.
"…Hello? Yeah, hi Steve, it's Marik. Listen, I need you to do me a favour…those counterfeit cards we used to make…mm-hm. Yep. Yeah, do you think that would work with a passport? Awesome. I'll text you the details later, okay? Brilliant. Thanks! Speak to you later. Bye."
Okay, this is the last bad thing I'm doing. Damn it, how many times am I going to say that? I'm still a shitty little criminal at heart.
Bakura waltzed back in just as Marik finished smoothing out the clean sheets. "Don't bother, they'll be getting rumpled up again in a few minutes anyway," he grinned. Marik resisted the temptation to laugh out loud at the sight of Bakura in a bathrobe with a towel turban on his head, and pushed past him to shower himself, pinching Bakura's backside playfully on the way out.
When he returned to the bedroom ten minutes later, clad in a spare bathrobe, he found Bakura standing at the vanity table with a bottle of oil in his hands, frowning at it. "Why do you have so much of this stuff?" he asked.
"It's for my back," Marik explained, gesturing. "The scars still feel really tight, and they'll crack and bleed if I don't oil them up at least once a day. After showering is usually the best time to do it."
"Fuck," Bakura whispered. "How do you deal with it?"
Marik shrugged. "I've done it for a decade. I'm used to it now."
"You shouldn't have to be." Bakura looked down at the oil again. "Have you put any more on just now?"
"No, not yet."
"…Do you want me to do it?"
Marik's mouth dropped open. "You're serious?"
"Yeah, why not? I remember how awful some of my old scars used to feel." Bakura raised a hand to his face, tracing under his eye. "I had one just here. I like to say I had a fight with a rock and the rock won, but in actuality, I set off a trap when I was robbing a tomb, and the fucking thing nearly blinded me. It always felt tight afterwards. If I'd have known oil would help, I'd have been slathering it on all the time."
The old Bakura, possessed by Zorc, would never have offered to rub my back. And he probably wouldn't have given me a spontaneous blowjob either. I can roll with this quite nicely. Marik smiled and slipped his arms out of the sleeves of his robe, letting the top half fall down loosely around his waist. "Alright then. Where do you want me?"
"Just…I don't know, sit on the edge of the bed and I'll sit behind you."
Marik's heart felt like it might explode with happiness. He sat down, tying his hair up again so it would be out of the way. Bakura settled behind him, legs either side of Marik's, and he poured a generous amount of oil directly over Marik's shoulders, making him twitch at the cold sensation. "When did you get confident enough to start showing your scars?" Bakura asked him, starting to work the oil into his skin.
"A few months ago," Marik replied, closing his eyes contentedly. Bakura wasn't massaging as such, just rubbing the oil in, but his hands still felt immensely relaxing. "I just…got over it, I guess. They're just a part of me, and I shouldn't have to hide them."
"Mm." Bakura made a soft noise of agreement, drizzling a little more oil down Marik's back. Soon his skin gleamed like polished copper, Bakura tracing his hands firmly up and down the valleys of twisted scar tissue like it was nothing he hadn't seen before. If anything, he seemed captivated.
"You'll be able to leave in a week," Marik told Bakura softly. "I arranged for a passport to be made for you."
Bakura's hands stopped abruptly. "What?"
"You wanted to go to Domino, right? Well, now you can. I'll sort you out a plane ticket later tonight."
"Marik…" Bakura was struck dumb. "You did that for me?"
"Of course I did. I want you to be happy, and if that means getting you back to Japan, so be it."
"Marik, I…" Bakura couldn't put into words how he felt, so he settled for a few fluttering kisses down Marik's neck instead. His hands slid upwards and across the tops of his shoulders, starting to work oil down his arms and chest.
Marik gasped and leaned his head back; now Bakura was massaging. "Oh, wow, that feels amazing…"
Bakura sighed quietly. "What about you?"
"What do you mean?"
"I guess you don't want me to go, after you spent all that time and effort dragging me out of the Shadow Realm."
"No, not really. That's why I'll be following you."
Again, Bakura's hands stopped. "Following me?"
"Mm-hm. I'm done with Luxor. I feel the same as you…Domino is just the best place to be. And I want to be with you, so even if it takes me a few months to tie up loose ends here, I'll come back to you as soon as I possibly can."
Bakura chuckled. "You're going to make me blush, Ishtar."
"I like it when you blush."
"I look a dick. Turn around."
Marik obeyed, and Bakura surprised him by pulling him in for a deep, slow kiss, letting his oil-slicked hands roam. When they pulled away, their eyes met, mahogany to lavender, and something soft and affectionate sparkled in Bakura's gaze. "Gods, you make me so fucking mushy," he muttered. "I can't stand it. It's not me."
"You're figuring out who the real you is now," smiled Marik, "now Zorc isn't a part of you. It's okay to be a little mushy." He reached out and stroked Bakura's cheek, pressing his palm against the warm skin. "I've wanted to tell you how I feel for so long, but shouting at shadows was never going to get me anywhere…if Ryou hadn't come up with this idea to bring you back, I don't know what I would have done with myself."
Bakura's fingers closed gently around Marik's wrist, stroking his pulse point with his thumb. "Tell me then," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "Tell me how you feel."
"Bakura…I love you. I barely knew you a week during Battle City, but you were the first person who ever stood with me as an equal. That meant the world to me, and once you were gone…my life just felt like it was falling apart. I had Ryou to help me pick up the pieces, but it wasn't the same. I needed you." Abandoning all restraint, Marik cupped both of Bakura's cheeks and kissed him over and over, murmuring, "I love you," in between each soft peck of his lips.
And Bakura let him, didn't push him away, though he trembled in Marik's hold like he was frightened, overwhelmed with the affection he hadn't been subject to for thousands of years. He looked as though he might cry, but he refused to let his tears fall, instead redressing Marik's top half and pulling him backwards on the bed, slipping under the covers with him. He was silent as he cradled Marik's head to his chest and stroked his hair, craving the closeness he trusted only Marik to provide. He couldn't say he loved him too, but it didn't matter right now. For Marik, he was just happy that he'd gotten the weight off his own chest.
Wrapped up in their robes, and surrounded by soft pillows and blankets, the two young men drifted off to sleep in their intertwined embrace.