The music blaring from Ryou's house was almost deafening, even from outside the front door. Marik stood there, rather confused and wondering if Ryou's tastes had taken a sudden turn for female-fronted symphonic metal in the last few weeks. He knocked on the door, having a feeling that he wouldn't be heard at all.

He had arrived in Domino City the night before, having booked into a hotel as it was too late to have been bothering Ryou and Bakura. It was midday, but it felt like the middle of the night to a jet-lagged and exhausted Marik. He rubbed his eyes while he waited in the hopes that someone had heard him knocking.

To his surprise, the door swung open a few seconds later.

"Marik! Hi!"

The bottom of Marik's stomach dropped out and a visible tremor ran through him. Yugi stood before him, leaning against the doorway with his arms folded and a huge smile on his face. It had been two years since they had last seen each other at the ceremonial duel, but Marik felt no less guilty for everything he had done to him and his friends during Battle City. Yugi didn't seem to be fazed at all though, and unfolded his arms to reach out and wrap them around Marik, tugging him in for a friendly hug. "Hey, don't be so nervous! I know that look on your face. Really, Marik, it's fine, we're fine."

"Sorry," he laughed. "Um, what are you doing here, Yugi?"

"Lunch break," Yugi replied, pulling back. "Thought I'd pop back and be here to greet you when you arrived. It's Ryou's day off, so he's here as well."

"Bakura?"

"In the shower. The music's his."

"It's, uh…loud."

"Yeah, he's taken quite a liking to Nightwish these days," Yugi laughed lightly. "Come on in. Bakura will be ages showering, he always is."

Marik stepped inside and removed his shoes, remembering the customs within Japanese houses as he donned the nearest pair of slippers. He allowed Yugi to lead him inside, taking a look around inquisitively. It was his first time in Ryou's house, but nobody could have mistaken it for anyone else's. Monster World figurines and game sheets were scattered everywhere, haphazardly, but neatly. A few games consoles sat under the TV, and the scent of cleaning products lingered, soft pine and creamy vanilla. Ryou was very tidy, and everything seemed to have its place. The only sign of messiness was the pile of papers and oil pastels covering the coffee table. Yugi obviously stayed in the house a lot, as he weaved through with familiarity and an air of wilful comfort.

Yugi had changed a lot since Marik last saw him. Gone was the tiny boy with the sad smile and shy demeanour. Yugi was much taller now, his arms rippling with muscle and his glittering purple eyes outlined heavily with kohl. His tri-coloured hair hung loose around his head, brushing his shoulders, and Marik couldn't help but think that it suited him immensely.

Ryou was in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove and humming to himself in time with the music upstairs. The familiar smell of frying onions and spicy tomato sauce made Marik smile; Ryou was making koshary. He looked up as Yugi and Marik approached, his face breaking into a joyful smile. "Hey, you!" he beamed, putting his stirring spoon down. "How was your flight?"

"Long," Marik chuckled, letting Ryou kiss both his cheeks and squeeze his hands. "I'm so tired. I feel ready to drop any moment."

"Sit down at the table and relax. Are you hungry?"

"Starving." Marik dropped into a nearby chair with a happy sigh.

"You're just in time then. I'll have this ready in a few minutes."

"You're an angel, honey," Marik smiled.

"Honey," Yugi snorted, amused, as he passed Marik a cup of coffee. "I don't think I'll ever get over that."

Ryou pecked Yugi on the cheek, then his lips, smiling softly. "You're a good sport, love."

"Just for you, snowflake."

Marik giggled at their antics. "Ya lahwy, you two are ridiculously soppy."

They certainly were an odd combination to look at - dark, powerful Yugi in his leather trousers and fashionably distressed black jumper with all his eyeliner and studded jewellery; soft, effeminate Ryou in his grey jeans and blue button-down shirt, hair held back in a messy bun with a chopstick and a smudge of tomato sauce on his cheek. But the way they looked at each other spoke of a love that didn't care how little they matched up physically, that they saw the person inside. Marik wondered if Bakura would ever look at him like that.

No, of course he wouldn't. He'd tell me to stop being an idiot and shove me, or something. Then kiss me and wink like he knows something I don't.

Yugi glanced at his watch and sighed. "I should head back. Grandpa will make me sweep the porch for the rest of the day if I'm late again."

"Okay," Ryou murmured, stirring again. "See you tonight?"

"I'll be back around ten. I wanna play EverQuest with Jonouchi before I come back over. We've got a good campaign going on and he'll mess it up without me."

"No problem, love," Ryou replied. "Take your time."

Yugi pulled Ryou in for a deep, slow kiss, seemingly forgetting, or not particularly caring, that Marik sat just a few feet away from them. "Love you, snowflake. See you later." He flashed a grin in Marik's direction. "You too, Marik. I know you'll be here for a while, so we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

Marik just nodded at him, smiling shyly. Yugi squeezed Ryou's hand and grabbed his jacket from the back of one of the chairs, slinging it over his shoulder as he left the room. They just about heard the front door closing over Bakura's music.

"Why hasn't Yugi moved in with you yet?" Marik asked, crossing his legs and swinging the top leg back and forth. "Kura says he's here all the time."

Ryou started putting together the finished koshary, layering the various parts of the dish. "We've discussed it," he replied, "but Yugi struggles with the idea of leaving his grandfather, I think. It's no problem either way…it's good to have the space sometimes, you know?" He passed a plate over to Marik and sat down opposite him with his own. "I'm glad you're here," Ryou smiled. "Bakura has missed you terribly."

"He's said that?" Marik spooned koshary into his mouth eagerly, delicious flavours exploding across his tongue. Not for the first time, he marvelled at how good a cook Ryou was.

"Like hell," laughed Ryou, sipping tea and largely ignoring his own plate, "but I know him. It's obvious. All he does is talk about you."

Marik blinked, surprised. "You're serious?"

"Yep. He was even telling me about your new niece. Congratulations, by the way! I bet she's cute."

"She's beautiful. Here, I'll show you." Marik pulled his phone out and flicked through the pictures till he found the ones he'd taken of Nefertari. "Look at her little nose! Have you ever seen anything so adorable?"

Ryou's soft brown eyes sparkled as he gazed at the screen. "Oh, Marik…you must be so proud. She's perfect. How is Ishizu doing?"

"Really well." Marik tucked his phone away again. "She's always been strong though, so I don't think I expected anything else. Rishid's really settling back into Dad Mode as well, and he did a pretty good job of raising me where my own dad fucked up, so it's probably second nature to him these days."

"I'm so happy for all of you! A baby is such a wonderful gift, and I know you'll treasure her dearly."

Marik smiled fondly at his friend, feeling a little flutter in his heart. Ryou, I hope you know how special you are to me. You helped me bring Bakura back, and you shower all of us with masses of unconditional love. What would I do without you and your soppy praise? Yugi's so fucking lucky to have you.

"The oil pastels in the living room, are they yours?" Marik asked, changing the subject before he got too emotional himself. "I don't remember you doing any art besides Monster World stuff."

"Oh, they're Kura's," Ryou replied. "He sits most evenings and works with them. He's pretty good, actually. I'll try and dig out some of his works later…he's hidden them so you couldn't see."

"Why?"

"You'll know when you see them," Ryou smirked. "Kura has threatened to set my hair on fire if I show you, but I need a haircut anyway, so it'll be worth it." As was usual, he still wasn't eating much, content to just sit back and drink tea like he could be sustained on the sweetened liquid alone.

After a few minutes of no talking, Ryou tilted his head up towards the ceiling, pursing his lips. "Water's stopped. He must be out of the shower now."

"How the hell do you hear that over this fucking music?"

Ryou shrugged. "You just kind of hear it in the pipes." He drained the last of his tea and put his barely touched koshary into the fridge for later. "I need to go out and do some food shopping. Will you be okay here for a while?"

Marik raised a blonde eyebrow, smirking. "Cut the crap, honey. I know you're just trying to get out of the way so Kura and I can have some alone time."

"You got me," Ryou winked. "No, but I do actually need to get some stuff…though I may be gone for several hours."

"I take no responsibility for the condition you find Kura in when you come back."

"I'm counting on at least a few hickies," laughed Ryou.

"Bet you a week's worth of doing all the housework that I can give him at least three. Visible, of course."

"You're on!" Ryou grinned. He left the room, waving over his shoulder. "Have fun!"

I'm sure I will, Marik grinned.

The music had dropped down to a much lower, more acceptable volume by the time Marik had finished eating and headed upstairs. He could see steam billowing out of the open bathroom door, and hear Bakura's low humming. The sound made Marik smile softly. Hearing Bakura as he was, instead of through phone speakers, sent his heart soaring with joy. Curious, he peered around the bathroom door.

The mirror over the sink had been wiped to clear the steam, and Bakura stood in front of it with a little scowl knitting his brows as he dragged a razor across his throat. Marik could tell that he had gained a little more weight since they exchanged pictures, and he now looked pleasantly slender instead of verging on seriously ill. His cheeks were fuller, his eyes brighter, his skin clearer and more vibrant. Wearing dark blue jeans, with a red plaid shirt open over his bare chest and hair hanging damp around his shoulders, he gave off an impossibly sexy air. Marik continued to watch for a few minutes, admiring the almost artistic care with which Bakura handled the razor.

Bakura finished shaving, setting the razor down, and rinsed any remaining shaving foam from his face. Leaning over to grab a towel to dry off, it was only then that he spotted Marik. All that was visible behind the towel was his eyes as he froze, blinking rapidly. "I…didn't hear you come in," he said quietly.

"Blame your deafening music," Marik chuckled. "Hi, Kura."

"Marik…" Bakura almost sounded breathy, longing. Then he caught himself and turned away, throwing the towel over his shoulder and missing the laundry basket completely. "When did you get here?"

"About half an hour ago."

Bakura splashed aftershave on his face and winced at the sting. "You look tired."

"Jet lag is a bitch." Marik leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. "You've put on weight."

"Fuck you, Ishtar."

"It's a good thing. I'm not calling you fat."

Bakura looked down at his exposed chest, a smirk twisting the corner of his mouth. "I guess I didn't really pull off the skeletal look. Still kind of sucks that even Ryou has bigger muscles than me, though. And Yugi! Holy fuck, have you seen Yugi? I didn't think the little shrimp could even lift anything bigger than a deck of cards, and now he's swinging weights around like they're feathers."

"He's taller than you now."

"Don't fucking remind me," Bakura growled.

"I can remind you of something else," Marik winked.

Bakura's deep brown gaze met Marik's lavender. Even for all their teasing, tension and anticipation hung heavy in the air, ready to burst at a moment's notice. Marik took a few steps towards Bakura, flicking his hair over his shoulders in a way that bared his slim neck, an alluring gesture that had Bakura swallowing visibly, a slight flush darkening his cheeks. When Marik reached out to run his fingertips gently down Bakura's chest, he shuddered, a little gasp leaving his mouth before he could stop himself.

Hearing that gasp broke any restraint Marik had. Grabbing Bakura's shirt, he pulled him close and crashed their lips together, eliciting soft moans from both willing parties. Bakura's legs trembled and he clutched at Marik for support as their mouths devoured each other hungrily.

Marik's mind was a blur of half-coherent thoughts, unable to concentrate properly on anything but Bakura, the feel of his skin beneath his palms, the taste of his tongue sliding against his own. Gods, he feels so warm, so real…he's really here, he hasn't vanished…I was so scared, but…but it's okay, he's here, he's with me now.

"Bedroom," Bakura whispered. "Behind you."

Marik didn't need telling twice. They stumbled backwards, Marik busily unbuttoning Bakura's jeans with one hand and hooking the fingers of the other into the paler man's belt loops, keeping a firm grip on him. Their lips only pulled away briefly so Bakura could yank Marik's shirt off over his head, then they were kissing again, fighting for dominance, neither relenting. Marik slid Bakura's open shirt down his arms, letting the soft cloth flutter to the floor. He didn't need to ask if it was okay to start undressing Bakura. His actions alone told him he was craving it.

He fumbled behind for the door handle, sending them both toppling into the room once he had the door open. They ended up on the floor, Bakura on top of Marik, but their desperate kissing was barely broken by the tumble. They just clung to each other harder, as if they never wanted to let go.

"This is definitely happening, right?" Marik said breathlessly against Bakura's lips.

"It fucking better," Bakura replied, just as breathlessly.

"Let me up then, or I'm going to end up fucking you on the floor."

Bakura laughed. "Sounds good."

"No, I'm serious. This hurts my back. Let me up."

"Ah, yeah…sorry." Bakura pulled back onto his knees, allowing Marik to sit up and rub his scars gingerly. "Do you need oil or anything? I'm sure Ryou has some stashed away in his room."

"No. Just you." Marik got to his feet, pulled Bakura up with him, and shoved him towards the bed. Bakura let out a rather uncharacteristic giggle, that faded into a deep hum of contentment when Marik joined him, the Egyptian's lips sucking at the side of Bakura's neck. "How good is your memory?" he asked quietly as he pulled away. He traced his tongue over the aggravated patch of skin, seeing it already starting to bruise a pale tinge of blue.

Bakura frowned. "Uh, good, I guess. What's up?"

"What say we recreate our little phone call? You know, that one."

"Oh." Bakura's cheeks flushed, but he grinned, clearly pleased. "Fuck yes, I'm game for that." He grabbed a small remote from the bedside table, and aimed it across the room, turning his music off.

Marik pressed a kiss to Bakura's lips. "Stay here. I'll be right back."

He jumped off the bed and hurried downstairs, locating his luggage and riffling through it. Locating condoms and lube, he dashed back upstairs, finding Bakura lounging back on the bed with an amused look on his face. "Someone's eager to get started."

"Of course," Marik replied, tossing the box and bottle onto the mattress beside Bakura. "I mean, look at you. You're so fucking sexy, why wouldn't I want to ravish you?"

"You're one to talk," Bakura replied, as Marik knelt beside him and began pulling off his jeans.

"Did you just call me sexy?"

"Damn fucking right I did."

Marik chuckled, throwing Bakura's jeans to the side and hooking his fingers into the waistband of his boxers. "You're sure this is okay? You don't feel – "

"Marik, I swear to Anubis himself, if your tongue isn't up my ass in the next two minutes – "

"Alright, alright. Now who's eager?" Marik laughed as he ripped Bakura's boxers away. The sight of him stretched out and devoid of all clothing made Marik's chest tighten, his breath catch in his throat, his head go foggy and his cock twitch. He was gorgeous, absolutely perfect.

During their phone sex, Bakura had undressed him next, but Marik couldn't wait a moment longer. They were already diverting, but neither gave a fuck. They just needed each other, the closeness, the sheer raw intimacy.

Marik pushed Bakura's thighs apart and settled his head between them, fluttering soft kisses up his stiffened shaft. Bakura gasped, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene before him. When Marik slid his tongue over the leaking head, Bakura audibly whimpered, stuffing his hand into his mouth and biting down. "Oh, fuck," he whispered. "Oh, holy fuck, Marik."

Marik hummed happily, enjoying the reactions he was pulling from Bakura. He dug his nails into the inside of Bakura's thigh with one hand, and palmed his balls with the other, before opening his mouth wide and plunging down, almost to the very base of Bakura's cock. Bakura cried out, grabbing Marik's hair with his free hand and bucking his hips upwards; Marik almost recoiled, feeling his gag reflex kicking in, but he forced himself to breathe deeply and take as much of Bakura in as he could.

His lover was completely lost in his pleasure, head thrown back and a constant stream of curses in a mixture of Japanese, Middle Egyptian and English poured from his mouth. Marik couldn't understand half of what he said, but the desperate, erotic tone in his voice still turned him on immensely.

Marik pulled away. "Pass me one of your pillows," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It took Bakura a few seconds to be able to respond, but he eventually came to his senses enough to reach behind his head and throw a pillow in Marik's general direction. Smirking, Marik slipped it under Bakura's hips, raising his lower half up. "Perfect," he murmured. Dropping back down, he trailed a soft whisper of kisses up the back of Bakura's thigh, feeling him shuddering in response. "You know what comes next, don't you?" he smirked.

"Do it," Bakura whispered.

"You're sure?"

"Marik!"

Marik laughed, amused by the neediness in his lover's harsh growl. His sharp teeth sank into the delicate skin of the inside of Bakura's thigh, and he sucked, raising another bruise. Bakura groaned, clearly enjoying the rough treatment, but judging by the rocking of his hips, he still wanted Marik's attention elsewhere.

Parting Bakura's cheeks with his hands, Marik ran the tip of his tongue over the quivering flesh of Bakura's entrance, giving him just enough stimulation to let him figure out if he liked it. None of this was new to Marik, but everything was new to Bakura, and excited as they were, he still wanted to make sure Bakura was okay to continue.

There was no doubt, however, that Bakura was more than eager to carry on. His hips lifted off the mattress at the touch of Marik's tongue and his leg muscles spasmed as he threw his head back and cried out. "Fuck! Again!"

Gladly, Bakura.

Again and again, Marik's tongue slid against Bakura, alternating between slow, broad licks, and thrusting in as far as he could go. Bakura's moans became breathy gasps, his chest heaving with every sharp inhale. Giving no thought to any form of restraint, he grabbed Marik's hair with one hand, and pumped at his cock with the other. He was close, so close, but Marik pulled back at the last minute and Bakura snarled in rabid frustration. "What the fuck, Marik?!"

"I can't wait, Bakura. I'm sorry." Marik's fingers fumbled with his belt buckle and pried open his jeans, shedding them quickly along with his boxers. "I just, I…I have to have you. Right now."

Bakura's scowl quickly turned upside down, and he chuckled as he reached to the side for the wayward bottle of lube, rolling it over to Marik. "What's with the condoms? We didn't use them last time we fooled around."

"Well, I figured, you know…you've just showered, and it's your first time, so…" Marik felt his cheeks heating up in a blush.

"Suppose you've got a point." Bakura slid a foil wrapper out of the box and flicked that in Marik's direction as well. "So is this how it works? We have a single sexy phone call and suddenly I'm the bottom?"

"Sure, whatever," Marik muttered, ripping open the wrapper and rolling the latex sheath down his length.

"Works for me." Bakura shoved Marik down onto his back and snatched up the lube himself, squirting a generous amount on himself and Marik. "But today," he smirked down at his honey-haired lover, "the bottom is on top."

Marik laughed. "That is not how it works, Bakura."

"Bite me."

And with that, Bakura centred himself over Marik's erection, and slid down. Bakura hadn't been prepped, but he was insistent, and pushed down, wriggled, rocked his hips to force himself to take Marik inside. Marik gasped, digging his fingers into Bakura's thighs. Bakura was tight, incredibly tight, but soft and warm, and the sensations had Marik moaning before they'd even started.

Bakura's inexperience was more than made up for by his enthusiasm and speed of learning what both he and Marik liked. He rocked, and bounced, and encouraged Marik to match him thrust for thrust as sweat rolled down their bodies and heady moans of lust rendered their throats sore in a way they would never tire of. Marik wrapped his fingers around Bakura's cock and let their movements stimulate Bakura towards completion; such was the intensity of their lovemaking, Marik barely needed to move his hand at all.

Worked up and excited from their foreplay, it didn't take long for Bakura to rocket into orgasm, his body jerking violently before coming to a panting, gasping halt, hot streams of semen spilling over Marik's fingers and stomach.

Bakura's hair stuck to his face and his cheeks were flushed a deep crimson, but his eyes were soft, his slender frame relaxed beyond measure. Marik gestured for him to lean down, capturing his lips in a kiss, and rolled them over to press Bakura gently into the mattress. "Doing okay?" he asked as he started moving again, slower this time.

"Don't stop," Bakura murmured, drawing his legs up to hold Marik firmly between his thighs. His hands roved Marik's back, tracing nonsensical patterns around the deep valleys of scar tissue, his loud moans reduced down to soft gasps and the occasional whimper. Marik kissed along his collarbone and up to his neck, sucking and raising another bruise on the opposite side to the first. Bakura closed his eyes, uttering something between a hum and a groan, tilting his head to give Marik better access. Marik bit and sucked under Bakura's jaw, and beneath his ear, and over his collarbones, and just about anywhere else he could place his mark. Soon a collection of blue and purple bruises speckled Bakura's snow-white skin, a beautiful contrast, and judging by the way Bakura pushed down on Marik's head with a shaking hand, he loved the blurring pleasure and pain.

Bakura bucked upwards as best he could, grinding himself against Marik and sending ecstatic jolts of electricity down Marik's spine. He knew it wouldn't be long before he climaxed now, and began to thrust faster, hooking his arms behind Bakura's knees and lifting his legs up and back, settling them against his shoulders. Bakura hissed and screwed his face up at the new, much deeper, angle, but he adjusted quickly and grabbed Marik's smooth backside, urging him onwards. "Are you close?" he asked.

Marik could barely speak through his heavy breaths and groans of pleasure, so he simply nodded, feeling the first tremors of orgasm starting to ripple through him. Bakura slid a hand up Marik's chest to settle against his bronzed cheek, caressing with delicate fingers. The gesture wasn't anything like Bakura was used to doing, nor did Marik expect it, but the tenderness in the touch was welcome and made Marik's heart flutter despite its pounding against his ribs in his pleasure. "Come," Bakura whispered. "Come for me, Marik. Come inside me."

"Fuck, Bakura…" Marik gasped. His hips slammed forward only a few more times before he shuddered and felt his release spill forth. With what little energy he had left, he guided Bakura's legs back down to the bed, and dropped down with a sigh, nestling his head in the crook of Bakura's neck. Bakura's slim arms draped loosely across Marik's back, soft breaths tickling the side of his face. Marik uttered a blissful groan and nuzzled his lover wearily. "How was it?" he asked quietly.

Bakura didn't answer immediately, twining a leg with Marik's and absently running his hands through mussed-up, golden hair. "Do I really have to answer that?" he smirked.

"Some feedback would be nice."

"What, do you want me to fill in a fucking tick list for you or something?"

Marik laughed. "Shut up."

"First you ask for my opinion, then you tell me to shut up. You're hopeless."

"I love you too," Marik grinned. He disentangled himself from Bakura and made his way to the bathroom on shaking legs, where he disposed of the condom and grabbed tissue to clean himself and Bakura up. When he returned, Bakura had put his music back on, albeit a lot quieter now. "What's gotten you into this sort of music?" he asked as he tossed a wad of tissue towards Bakura. "I can't understand a word of it."

"It's in English," he replied, dabbing at his stomach and thighs. "I don't know, I just like it. Her voice is soothing."

Marik crashed onto the bed, rubbing his eyes. "I'm so fucking exhausted now."

"Sleep then," Bakura murmured. "You've had a long flight."

"You're sure?"

"You might as well, if you're tired."

"Will you stay with me?"

Bakura laughed softly, pulling back the covers. "You're such a fucking softy. Yeah, alright then, but I'm playing Snake on my phone."

Marik rolled his eyes, but slid under the covers with Bakura and cuddled up close, resting his head on his chest. Bakura put an arm under his shoulders and gently pulled him closer, dropping a kiss to his brow. "It's good to be back with you," Marik whispered.

Bakura smiled, stroking Marik's arm, his free hand tapping buttons on his phone. "Sure is," he replied.

"By the way…I made a bet with Ryou."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. If I gave you at least three visible hickies, he had to do the washing up for a week."

"Holy fuck, Marik. How many have you given me?"

"Enough. More than enough."

Bakura chuckled, shaking his head. "You're crazy."

"Worth it." Marik's eyes fluttered closed, feeling safe and content, enveloped in Bakura's warmth. His heart at peace, he drifted off to sleep.

"Ya lahwy - " Egyptian Arabic exclamation, "oh my god" or similar