Chapter Seven: First Dates Part Two
9:30 PM
Dance Floor
The Red Sparrow
Marik Ishtar and Ryou Whyte
Lights flashed, music boomed. The speakers thumped in tune and throbbed with the melody. Ryou had to cover his ears with his hands, something that made Marik very amused.
"You're not that afraid of loud music, are you?" the older asked.
"WHAAT?" Ryou yelled across the noise. Marik chuckled and took both Ryou's wrists, wrenching his hands from Ryou's ears. "OW!"
"You'll get used to it," Marik smirked. "Come on, let loose."
Huffing, Ryou paused for a moment, before shifting a little on his feet. He had never danced before and wasn't sure how to start.
Why is everyone telling me to let loose? I'm just a little shy...
"I think you're lying again."
"Lying?" Ryou raised his head. "About what?"
"About not being able to dance," Marik smirked. "No one hangs out with Malik without learning something akin to dancing from him."
"Well...er, I never get the chance," Ryou hurriedly said blushing. Marik smirked.
"I can believe that. But I don't believe for a second that you don't know how to dance."
He let go of Ryou's wrists. "Show me."
Ryou gawked. "Show you what?"
"Prove me wrong that you can't dance. Dance."
Ryou looked like he was ready to sputter like crazy. However, before he could do anything, Marik had grabbed him by the wrist, and dragged him into the crowded floor. Stumbling, Ryou followed, his hair flying after him.
Music thumped into his ears.
La la la
La la la la la
La la la
La la la la la
Ryou squinted and covered his ears with his hands. He had never gotten so close to the speakers before. But that didn't stop Marik from pulling him even closer to the stage. In the corner, the band from last week were taking requests. A girl was now singing in lead rather than the boy that Bakura had terribly embarrased the week before.
"I-I don't know what to do!" Ryou cried over the loud music. Marik merely flashed him a smug grin.
"Just follow the master, then."
He stepped a bit away from Ryou's, but their hands were still together. Ryou faintly blushed in the darkness of their contact, but he was too busy trying to not get bumped into people to think much on it. Marik's smug smirk turned a tad bit more conniving.
"Step forward," he commanded.
Looking up, Ryou sent him a confused look. "?"
"Take a step! Any step!"
Ryou still looked hesitant. To help him, Marik gave him a hard shake.
"Now!"
"Eep!"
Quickly, Ryou jumped from feet to feet, nearly tripping over himself. Marik couldn't help but burst out in laughter.
"Hn, I think I'll take back that bit about you being a liar..."
"Hnph," Ryou pouted, getting back up properly. "You think you're that great of a dancer then?"
Marik's smirk shone egnimatically in the flashing light. He swiftly took a step towards Ryou so that the two of them ended up just inches apart from one another.
"I don't think I am," Marik breathed. "I know I am."
Right before Ryou, Marik began to dance. Ryou gasped softly and took a step back.
I just can't get you out of my head
Boy your loving is all I think about
He had never thought someone as serious as Marik could dance as tatently as what was displayed before him. His hips were swivelling, his shoulders were jumping and rolling with the music. Ryou surprised expression melted into an awed smile.
I just can't get you out of my head
Boy it's more than I dare to think about
In the darkness, Marik's golden hair was more pronounced than ever. The strange ways the disco light shined upon it made it glitter in the strangest of ways - mysteriously, temptingly. His amethyst eyes, hooded, complimented his alluring golden strands, shining lightly in the twinkles of the disco lights.
La la la
La la la la la
I just can't get you out of my head
Boy your loving is all I think about
I just can't get you out of my head
Boy it's more than I dare to think about
Several girls had turned and 'oooh'ed at Marik dancing. Ryou couldn't blame them. The older did look quite impressive - there was something just dangerously tempting about the way those eyes glimmered, those firm hips swivelling, those tight, muscular legs twisting, the tan skin, so rich in color, so intoxicating.
Ryou took a step back, faintly realizing that he was blushing. He also faintly realized something else.
Do you remember the last time someone danced like this in front of you?
Ryou took a step back again. His eyes gazed out a little.
He had nice tan skin too, didn't he? He made you think the things you're thinking now too, didn't he?
Ryou shut his eyes.
Every night
Every day
'You've never danced before?'
Those words echoed in Ryou's head. He remembered shaking his head sadly.
He remembered the same longing to dance.
Just to be there in your arms
In the darkness, those amethyst eyes seemed to have a soul of their own. They locked on Ryou's, even though the other was still dancing. Ryou temprorarily blanked out on everything else. They beckoned to him, teased him, asked sweetly, asked darkly, demanded...commanded...that the innocent soul of Ryou join them too.
Won't you stay
Ryou wanted to go, but another part of him didn't. Some part of him wanted to get lost in those eyes, but some part wanted him to be found too - ...
Won't you lay
He looks so familiar, Ryou thought softly to himself. So familiar...
Stay forever and ever and ever and ever
Ryou didn't even notice that Marik had managed to dance his way all over to Ryou again. He let those strong hands take his wrists, and pull him into the flashes of multicolor lights. Those amethyst eyes never left Ryou's. Faintly, Ryou found himself sort-of smiling - it had, after all, been a while since he had ever done something as fun as this.
La la la
La la la la la
He was here last week, Ryou dimly realized. With...Touzoku ...
La la la
La la la la la
Closing his eyes, Ryou looked down, as though trying to concentrate on his shoes, despite the blackness. Experimentally, he shifted from side to side in beat with the music. He took a few steps towards Marik, jumped back, a few steps again, then jumped back. He looked up and was face to face - merely inches away - with the smooth expression of the other.
I just can't get you out of my head
Boy your loving is all I think about
I just can't get you out of my head
Boy it's more than I dare to think about
He sort of realized that Marik was holding their hands up, shoulder-height. He sort-of understood that they began shifting their weights at the same time, the same way. He sort-of registered that when he bent his knees, they touched Marik's legs lightly, almost brushing against them, before straigtening again.
There's a dark secret in me
Don't leave me locked in your heart
The music was a bit of a blur in Ryou's ears. He wasn't even sure what the song was about anymore.
Set me free
Feel the need in me
Set me free
Stay forever and ever and ever and ever
Suddenly, Marik grabbed him close, before dipping him towards the floor. Squealing, Ryou held on for dear life. As his hair brushed against the floor and the crowds cheered absently, Ryou realized something.
He was actually having fun.
La la la
La la la la la
La la la
La la la la la
It was a fun he hadn't had in a while.
I just can't get you out of my head
I just can't get you out of my head
I just can't get you out of my head...
Ryou smiled sadly to himself as Marik slowly pulled him up.
He didn't deserve this fun...this happiness.
The music ended.
The Gala
10:00 PM
Bakura Akako and Malik Ishtal.
"Ah, if it isn't Mr. Malik Ishtal."
Malik dryly looked up at the voice from his position at the head of the buffet table. He had been conversing with Bakura, who had finally decided to eat something ("Not blood", he assured, apparently plenty of common people believed him to be a vampire.), and the two of them had merely been standing there, eating lightly. Women often passed by to flirt at Bakura, to which he calmly and quietly put them down - something Malik wasn't surprised to see happen. Bakura was, after all, a very talented musician...and didn't most crazily talented people deny the crazy common things that most mortals want...?
Bakura was leaning on his right leg, his pelvis a little forward. His coat was draped on one of the chairs at a random table. Malik had just been this close to questioning the pendants on Bakura's vest when the administrator so rudely interrupted them.
The monocle-eyed-balding-man smiled. "Mr. Ishtal," he said, extending a hand and crisply shaking Malik's hand. Malik smiled dryly and returned the shake. "And ah, Mr. Akako - lovely playing tonight, really, such talent."
Bakura said nothing, merely bowing lightly at the waist, denying the old man's extended hand. The administrator laughed heartily.
"Ah, quite the eccentric artist, hm? But of course. Is it the ah...custom in Japan to bow rather than a handshake?"
Bakura nodded. The administrator laughed again and bowed happily at the waist, though it looked ridiculous from Malik's point of view. The old, ancient and regal adiministrator simply didn't have Bakura's grace and elegance of a bow. In fact, the administrator looked like he was about to stumble over his own feet.
"The deeper the bow, the greater the respect," Bakura said, his voice unemotional. Malik quickly shoved the adiministrator back on his feet. Though he had only known Bakura for a few hours tonight, he could feel the other's ego like anyone could feel radiation.
"Ah, so, Mr...Wilcocks," Malik coughed a little. "How are you?"
"Perfectly fine, my lad," Mr. Wilcocks said, his great chest (he had no belly, he was a spinely man with straight shoulders and a narrowing body- bald head and large nose to match.) heaving with pride. "Tonight's Gala has been a huge success, thanks to the talents of Mr. Akako. Certainly, this will spark discussion of the French revolution once more for years to come!"
"Hn, discussions," Malik repeated, lightly swirling his wine glass of soda (he wasn't in the mood for wine that night.).
"Which reminds me," Mr. Wilcocks beamed. "Seeing you two standing here reminds me. In the near future, the sheet music will be copied and sent internationally around the world for analysis. However - seeing as conviently, both are you are standing here - one a historian, the other a musician - perhaps you would like to be Britain's representative at researching this musical piece?"
Mr. Wilcock's eyes landed on Malik expectantly, very proudly. Malik tried his best not to make a face.
"I hate to admit it sir, but my expertise is in Egyptology, not in French history..."
"Ah, that's no reason to attempt a challenge!" Mr. Wilcocks said, animatedly shaking his fist. "I insist that the two of you work on this project together. Think of it as a tag team. No pressure, of course, since research such as this rarely has due-dates of any sort - simply...with your historian experitise and Mr. Akako's knowledge of music...why, I think you two would make a fine team at tackling this pivitol piece of music!"
Malik chuckled nervously, not really wanting to say yes. "Mr. Wilcocks, sir..."
"I insist!" Mr. Wilcocks shook his fist again, his whole body shaking triumphantly. "You will be Britain's representatives, I insist!" He patted Malik on the shoulder. "A fine man you are, Mr. Ishtal. A fine man. You and Mr. Akako both will do perfectly well, I'm sure."
Malik winced a little. "...Thank you sir," he finally said, giving in.
Bakura, throughout this whole thing, had not once said a word. Mr. Wilcocks, happy at the idea of being multicultural, excused himself from Bakura by bowing ridiculously again. Bakura watched with a dead-panned expression as Malik eventually had to shove Mr. Wilcocks out of the way so the bow wouldn't be misinterpreted.
"A bow that low is only suitable for a master within a dojo," Bakura noted, as Mr. Wilcocks finally stood up in another crowd, "either that, or to create terrible arthiritis."
Malik snorted dryly. "He's only trying to be nice."
"Oh I'm sure. I'm sure." Bakura turned around absently, looking over his shoulder at nothing in particular. Malik took this as a sign to continue his original question - before having to deal with Bakura being his history buddy.
"Beautiful pendants," Malik gestured. Bakura idly arched an eyebrow before looking at the chain indicated. There were only three pendants hanging from the chain. Malik looked at them curiously. "...A - ka - KO."
Bakura looked mildly impressed. "Do you speak Japanese?" he asked. Malik immediately blushed and shook his head frantically.
"Oh, Ra, no. I- the only Japanese I have is just - little stuff I learned from listening to Japanese pop all the time," Malik hurried explained. Bakura arched his eyebrow.
"You are interested in Japanese music?" the musician inquired.
Malik smiled passively. "It's a harmless pastime."
Bakura smirked. "Who are your favourite artists?"
Malik thought about it a little, swirling his glass. "...I'm not sure," he finally said. "There's just so many to choose from."
Bakura snorted in response. He leaned back against the table.
Malik stole a quick glance at the other. "...You were quite amazing up there," he said. "I know you've probably heard it from tens and thousands of people around, but you're ...really talented."
Bakura merely shrugged, an elegant gesture, Malik believed. The white-haired musician raised up a hand and ran his fingers through his hair. Malik watched as the hair followed the silky motion slowly, like flowing, enchanting hair commercial.
"It's a gift," Bakura sighed arrogantly, looking boredly away. Malik huffed lightly, a little down-trodden that his praise for his recently-decided-favourite-musician was looked away upon. He tapped his finger lightly against his glass.
"I'm actually really interested, you know," Malik said suddenly, "about Japan. You know, and its culture. I've always have been."
Bakura merely turned back around, arching an eyebrow mildly. "Really."
"Yeah." Malik smiled.
"And where are you from? Egypt, I'm presuming?"
"Yeah," Malik replied, looking mildly suprised. "How'd you guess?"
Bakura snorted. "Just lucky."
Malik's smile grew slightly. "You know..." He looked away a little, his expression growing slightly bashful. "It really is a great convience that we work in the same school - it'd give us a lot of chance to work on that French piece together. And ...I mean, it'd be a lot of fun, I think. The French Revolution is truly fascinating, even if it's not my area of expertise - I still love the idea and the grandeur of it all. I suppose that's why I'm so interested in other cultures too...particularly Japan... I'd love to more about it. I'm just absolutely fascinated by its culture."
Bakura smirked derisively. "You and perhaps the rest of the international anime-J-pop-Ramen obsessed world," he retorted lightly. "There's more to culture than what meets the eye."
"Of course, of course," Malik said hurriedly. "And I - I actually- I'm really- "
Bakura waved a hand non-chalantly. "If you truly are interested in the culture, I wouldn't mind bestowing some of my vast knowledge with you sometime. But of course, at a bargain."
Malik's eyes perked up a bit curiously. "...A bargain?" he repeated, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.
Bakura smirked and directed his eyes over at Malik, so that red-deep ones glazed over lavender shades.
"I'll teach you all I know about Japanese history and life - " Bakura smirked, his lips moving sensually along every word, "...and you..." He raised a finger and pointed it at Malik, slowly, as though carressing Malik's cheek from far away. "...You teach me history in general."
"History in general?" Malik repeated incredulously. "What on earth -"
"As terribly gifted I am with my talents," Bakura said coolly, brushing away from the tablet, "I too, have weaknesses. If I agree to enlighten you about Japanese culture, I'm afraid you will have to enlighten me about the French."
Malik gaped after Bakura. "But I - I don't...I'm not..."
But Bakura didn't take no for an answer. Apparently someone had gotten his attention,and abruptly, Bakura waved back and began to walk away. As he disappeared into the crowd without so much as a goodbye, he turned around and called out to Malik:
"...I know zip about the French."
10:30 PM
Dance Floor
The Red Sparrow
Marik Ishtar and Ryou Bakura
"Tired?"
Smiling, Ryou leaned against the wall, brushing his bangs back. "Yeah..." He fanned himself lightly. "There's too many people here!"
Marik smirked and leaned against the wall too, against his shoulder. "Naturally. This place is pretty famous around here."
Ryou smiled and brushed the sweat from his forehead. "So I've heard. Malik loves this place."
Hearing Malik's name, Marik merely shrugged in response. However, he did notice the redness in Ryou's cheeks from the exertion of dancing. Marik lowered his eyes and grunted.
"Stay here," he said, not meeting Ryou's eyes. "I'm going to get us something to drink. You want anything?"
At the mention of drinks, Ryou's eyes lit up again. "Oh yes, please," he said, relieved. "Iced water would be fine..."
Marik turned back and raised his eyebrows at Ryou. "You're the most boring person on earth," Marik snorted. He took a few steps and mingled into the crowd. "Stay right there!"
Ryou nodded and waved. "See you later!"
Ryou relaxed against the wall.
He's so nice, Ryou thought to himself. He shook his head frantically. No, no, we're not thinking these things, remember the last time what happened to you when you thought someone was nice? Nevermind that he looks so much like him...
Wincing, Ryou tried to distract himself by rolling up his sleeves. The voice in the back of his head continued to talk though.
It's terrible of you to think of him like that...sure he's nice and sure he's nice-looking, but you don't deserve that type of companionship, you know that? Shouldn't you have learned this from your experiences with him...?
Ryou sighed. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
You don't deserve friends...you're lucky enough to have Malik and just every Friday out with him. You spend any more time away from home and you'll be neglecting your duty, the reason you were put on his earth for.Then they'll take it all away from you ..take it all away, cause you lost control...
"Hey sweetie," the man smirked. Ryou immediately snapped out of his trance. His eyes widened at the man who was leaning one hand against the wall. "Looking a bit lonely there."
Ryou immediately felt awkward. "...No, I'm not," he said, not really liking the aura of this man, who was wearing a sloppy shirt, tight jeans, and a denim vest. Sunglasses shielded his eyes. His long blond hair was covered with a bandanna that looked like the American flag.
The man snickered, his rugged, unshaven chin presenting a smirk/grin that Ryou didn't like. Ryou also didn't like how the man was also leaning in towards him.
"So what's a cute babe like you doing all alone in a dump of a corner like this?" the man asked, leaning in closer to Ryou's face. Ryou shrank into the corner.
"...I'm not alone," Ryou repeated.
"Oh?" The man chuckled a little and took off his glasses just a centimeter to peer at Ryou over the rims. His blond hair fell into his eyes. "And just...who is this mysterious stranger you're with?"
"He's no stranger," Ryou said, slowly edging down the length of the wall. "Actually, I think I heard him call me just now. Excuse me-"
The man's other arm - muscular and pale - shot out and trapped Ryou in the corner. Ryou's heart began to beat very fast in panic. Automatically, he pressed himself back into the corner.
"I think you're lying, sweetie," the man leered. "No one denies Bandit Keith what he wants, sweetie..."
"Don't call me that," Ryou said quietly. The man ignored him.
"Come on, babe. You can't stick around this corner forever. Dance with me." The man grinned and licked his teeth, bringing the toothpick to the other side of his mouth. "I'm American," he said, as though that made all the difference in the world. Ryou made a face. As if the bandanna already hadn't given it away ...
"No, really." Ryou finally decided he should stand up for himself - at least a little bit. He wasn't a little kid anymore. "...I'm waiting for someone," he said firmly.
"Don't lie to me sweetie." Bandit Keith began to loom in towards Ryou. Ryou eyed him suspiciously, slowly backing away. His hands tightened a little under his sleeves.
"Tell me, sweet-cheeks," Bandit Keith was now directly in front of Ryou's face, his lips just a few inches away from Ryou's. Discreetly,Ryou could smell alcahol on the other's breath and immediately turned his head away in disgust. "Who's your pretty little invisible friend?"
Ryou couldn't breathe. He didn't want to breathe. Otherwise, he'd faint from that ill-stench of alcohal and spit. His fists clenched tightly and he kept on telling himself to throw that punch.
"Get awa-"
Suddenly, a hand shot in between them, knocking Ryou back into the wall and Bandit Keith from Ryou. When he saw who the tanned arm belonged to, Ryou released a breath of relief. That arm now crossed between Ryou's face and Keith's, protecting Ryou, guarding Ryou.
"...I'm his 'pretty little invisible friend,'" Marik said coldly. His amethyst eyes were glinting slightly in the dark in a deadly manner. "And if you want to argue otherwise, I suggest you haul your ass out of here. Now."
A bit tiredly, Ryou relaxed against the wall again, relieved that Marik had come just in time. Bandit Keith, however, was neither impressed nor pleased.
"Heh. What's he to you?" he sneered. He crossed his arms over his vested shirt. "I bet I can show that sweet ass a more good time than you."
Marik's eyes narrowed, and finally, Ryou picked up a sense of mood that seemed a lot more dangerous radiating from Marik than had been radiating from Keith. Keith radiated rough, bullying, and a near-cowardly violence. Marik radiated the type of violence that Ryou instinctively associated with murder and suppressed bombs.
Marik sharply released his arm from in front of Ryou, and turned swiftly so that now he stood in between them.
"Say that again," Marik threatened quietly. Keith, too much of an idiot for his own good, laughed.
"Yeah, you heard me, blondie. I bet I can show him a lot more a good time than you can."
A small crowd had stopped dancing, and were watching the three in the corner. While they were not crowding around them yet, Ryou felt like as if they were ready to close in. He tried tugging on Marik's shirt.
"Marik - it's fine, really - I'm fine -"
"Quiet." Marik's hiss startled Ryou and Ryou found himself obeying instantly, standing against the wall obediently. Marik's eyes turned back onto Keith.
Keith was being an idiot again."Why so possessive?" he asked. "It's not like he's your boyfriend or anything."
Ryou's eyes widened, but Keith continued.
"If he ain't your boyfriend, I have all the freedom to make my move on him. It's a free country, you know."
Marik's eyes glittered silently. Suddenly, with swift force,he grabbed Ryou from the corner and held him tightly in his chest.
A smirk curled over Marik's lips.
"He's mine."
Immediately, Ryou felt his face flush red. He was too shocked and embarrassed to even think of fighting Marik off, whose grip Ryou found tight - ...but so comforting...
Bandit Keith growled. "What, your boyfriend?"
Marik's smirk became very smug in the darkness. He tightened his hold on Ryou and, without taking eyes off the bandit, directed Ryou's face to look at his with a swift finger.
"You could say that," Marik's smirk grew devious. "Wouldn't you say so, Ryou?"
Ryou's mouth fell open. Marik rolled his eyes briefly but covered up the other's terrible acting.
"What, don't believe me?" Marik asked Bandit Keith. He swooped out a hand; as though his under his command, the crowd separated, leaving a clear way for him and Ryou to the dance floor. Lights flickered over Marik's face, sparkling his amethyst eyes in the most deviant way possible. Bandit Keith growled, and took a step back. Marik's smirk turned into a small grin.
"Then let me show you ..."
With sudden force, Marik had grabbed Ryou's wrist, and began nearly dragging the other after him onto the dance floor. After him, Ryou's eyes widened considerably, before he gained his senses. He quickly regained his footing and wrenched his arm back - he did not break Marik's iron grip, though he did manage to stop the other. Marik paused, looking back with his unreadable lilac eyes. In the darkness of the disco, Ryou couldn't quite read those eyes- he was about to protest when Marik threw him into the bright lights of the dance floor. A second later, Ryou was smushed - pressed up tightly against the body of the other.
"Shall we dance?" Marik's voice asked, dripping in smirk.
Ryou furrowed his brows lightly under his bangs. Marik picked up one Ryou's hands and held it shoulder-height.
"I'm your what?" Ryou hissed. Marik tightened his grip on Ryou's wrist.
"You want that jackass to keep on harrassing you?" Marik hissed in Ryou's ear. Ryou stiffened and looked back at Keith through the corner of his eye.
"No..." he admitted reluctantly.
"Then play along."
Swiftly, Marik swooped Ryou to the side, his hand on the base of Ryou's spine. Ryou himself was having difficulties trying to keep up with the situation - Marik was dancing so quickly and skillfully, whilst Ryou was thankful that he didn't manage to stumble more than three times in a row. Unintentionally, he ended up leaning againt Marik a lot for support. Ryou wrinkled his nose.
"Do we have to dance?" he asked, looking up at Marik with his furrowed eyes. Marik snorted lightly.
"Don't pout, Ryou ...it doesn't become you."
"I'm not pouting!" Ryou protested. He rolled his eyes lightly. "Must you -"
"Listen," Marik took another quick turn and held Ryou tightly him, so that their faces were only inches apart. "You want that jerk harrassing you for the rest of tonight?"
Ryou frowned. "No..." he admitted, his voice a reluctant whisper.
"Then just play along with me." Marik turned them again. "I know jerks like him. They don't get it into their thick heads until you force it in them. And right now..."
Suddenly, Marik swooped Ryou in for a dip. Gasping, Ryou held on to Marik's shoulders for desperate life, his pelvis bumping against Marik's.
"...I have to convince him that you're mine."
After a second, Marik brought Ryou back up again.
Several hoots came from the growing crowd. Keith's smirk was gone and he was glaring at Ryou. Ryou awkwardly shifted in Marik's arms.
"He's still watching us..." Ryou noted quietly, as he let Marik guide him into dancing. Marik tightened his grip on Ryou's wrists, making the smaller one flinch. Big brown eyes shifted over to Marik.
"Well, you're not exactly the greatest actor in the world," Marik hissed sarcastically in Ryou's ear. Ryou winced again, starting to feel a little bit frustrated.
"Well what do you want me to do?" Ryou asked a little heatedly.
"You could look a little bit more in love with me, or something, you know?" Marik snapped back. "I'm trying to save your ass here without getting into a huge amount of trouble..."
"Why not?" Ryou retorted back. "The men I know would always use this as an excuse to get into a fight..."
Marik's grip on Ryou's wrist tightened to the point that Ryou thought it would snap. Ryou held back his wince of pain to try to look tough.
"I'm not like other men," Marik snarled under his breath.
Ryou nearly took a step back from the venom laced in Marik's voice, but he couldn't. The other held him too tightly. From the corner of his eye, Ryou saw Bandit Keith again ...
"HEY! BLONDIE! LOOKS LIKE THAT DELISCIOUS ASS DOESN'T WANT TO BE WITH YOU!"
"He's going to violate me if he has the chance, isn't he?" Ryou mumbled quietly. Marik wrenched Ryou farther from the bandit.
"Gee, you think so?" Marik asked sarcastically. Ryou finally lost his temper with the whole situation.
"Fine, you want convincing?"
"I don't need convincing, he needs convincing," Marik snarled, jerking his head to the bandit.
Keith couldn't take a hint.
"HEY BABY! YOU WANT TO TAKE COCK FROM A MAN LIKE THAT? I CAN SHOW YOU A GOOD TIME BABY!"
Ryou finally lost his patience.
"Leave me alone!" Ryou yelled back at the bandit. "I'm with him!"
Feeling pretty frustrated, Ryou temporarily lost his common sense, and suddenly wrenched his arms from Marik's hands. In a quick span of three seconds, Ryou's arms were now around Marik's neck...his hands were diving into Marik's hair, his fingers running along Marik's neck.
In the bright lights and darkness, Marik's eyes flashed an immediate amethyst. In an instant, he grabbed Ryou around the waist and crushed their bodies together. Ryou gasped but shut his eyes tightly, determined to get that jerk of a bandit away from violating him with his eyes.
Their legs danced, intertwined occasionally, their hands rubbing up and down each other's backs and hair. Throughout the whole thing, Ryou closed his eyes, pretending to be in a daze of utmost want and satisification. Everyone began cheering and hooting. Blushing furiously, Ryou tilted up his head, determined to get rid of that stupid bandit, and determined to show that jerk of an Egyptian dancing with him that he was no bad-acting-baby.
Ryou was pretty sure he was nuts to do this, but he couldn't think of any other way to throw the bandit off. Marik's hands were roving about in sequences Ryou wasn't sure they'd lead to. To distract Marik and to finally end this stupid mating competition, Ryou gathered his courage, and, blushing, lifted his head, and briefly brushed his lips against Marik's. He desperately hoped that if the other asked him any other questions after this, the touch would be so brief that Ryou could just shrug it off as an accident...
Well, apparently Marik didn't think that was an accident at all. Immediately, while the crowd went "OOOOooohhhh" Marik's mind went "BOOOM!" and in another span of three seconds, he had Ryou crushed against the bar. Roughly, Ryou was pushed onto a stool, his back arching over the bar table, lips locked, hands roving. In Ryou's mind, stars exploded something akin to this: "!!!!" and immediately he started trying to fight Marik off.
Marik noted the other's struggling, but he was pretty damn certain that this was no playacting. Those soft honey-vanilla lips and gentle hands were far too skilled to have been entirely innocent. Sure, they were naive, and sure they were sweet, but there was no hesitance in Ryou's skillful hands, no shivering of the fingers. Ryou may have never kissed another man before - single or not - but he must've touched someone before.
Losing breath, Ryou ripped his mouth away from Marik's, panting deeply against the bar. The other drinkers had quickly sped away, leaving the two room to regain their breath. Marik was about to reach in for another kiss when Ryou put up one finger to stop him.
"What happened to..." A pant of breath. "...your personal...space?"
Marik's smirk grew. "In this circumstance, my dear Ryou, it's virtually non-existent."
"That's nice to know," Ryou gasped, gulping for breath. "But I still have my personal- HEY!"
A hand had just touched Ryou's bottom, squeezing it lightly. Immediately, Ryou jumped, but, calculative as Ryou was starting to realize he was, Marik swooped in on time, and pressed his lips in for another kiss.
Ryou wanted to spaz like crazy, but this kiss was a lot different than the first. The first had been hard, rough and hungry. This one was a lot more gentle, pressing lightly into his own lips, giving him a little wee-way to make his own decision. Against the soft lips of Marik, Ryou nipped a little on the bottom one in slight protest...Marik grunted in response.
"Thanks for molesting me," Ryou said unhappily. Marik chuckled and kissed Ryou's lips again, liking that taste of honey and vanilla more and more, with the faint dose of chocolate.
"My pleasure. After all, would you rather be molested by me or by that son of an asshole?"
Ryou grumbled but was silenced again with another gentle kiss. "Do you mind? I...I-umph..."
"Hush," Marik whispered, licking Ryou's lips lightly. He pressed his lips in a little tighter, feeling Ryou slowly responding towards him. He heard Ryou gasp slowly, his mouth easing open and his body relaxing. In went Marik's tongue, lightly meeting the other's, saying 'hi, how do you do', before slowly easing away.
In response, Ryou's breath grew slightly raggged as Marik pulled away. Dark brown eyes looked up at Marik with a mixture of ridiculity and annoyance. Marik chuckled and leaned in, his breath washing on Ryou's lips.
"How's that for play-acting...hm?"
Mouth falling open, Ryou gawked at Marik with an expression of utmost annoyance. He frowned at Marik who was merely a few inches away from him.
"You mean to tell me all that was just an act?"
"Anything to get that jerk away from you, hmn?"
Scoffing, Ryou rolled his eyes. "You're insane, do you know that?"
"I've been told that, yes, very frequently."
Despite himself Ryou laughed. He mock-frowned at Marik.
"I should really hate you for goosing me like that..."
"Aw, hate me for saving your life?"
Ryou blew his bangs out from his eyes with a puff of breath. "..."
Marik smirked. "I thought so." He slowly began to lean in for another kiss.
Ryou tried to lean away, but to no avail. "Marik..."
"Shhh..." Marik whispered, his lips slowly hovering over Ryou's. "Just be thankful that I saved your life..."
Sighing, Ryou slowly closed his eyes.
"I should hate you..."
"Everyone should..."
The lips slowly closed over Ryou's. Ryou released his breath, feeling oddly content in the back of his brain. His voice shivered lightly, as though shy and hesitant.
"Marik..."
"AH!!!!"
The scream jostled Ryou and Marik both out of their trances...Immediately, Ryou saw what someone had been screaming about. Right behind Marik, Bandit Keith was charging at Marik - with a chair in the air, aimed right at the Egyptian.
"MARIK!"
Immediately, Marik turned, but it was too late. The chair cracked across Marik's shoulder and head, throwing him across the dance floor. People started screaming and huddling against the wall. Some guys tried to come out and fight against Keith, but Keith was pretty menacing about his fights.
"BACK OFF!" he bellowed at them, brandishing his fists. "Anyone getting between me and him GETS IT, and gets it HARD, understand?!"
"Marik!" Ryou quickly scrambled from his barstool to run towards the fallen other - but Bandit Keith was faster than Ryou, and had grabbed him by the wrist.
"Ow!!"
"Get back there, bitch," Keith snarled, throwing Ryou back against the bar. With a cry of pain, Ryou hit the bar with his spine, collapsing raggedly on the barstool. "You fucking bi-"
CRACK.
The crowd gasped and hissed in a deep breath of "ouuch". When Ryou straggledly got back onto his chair, he saw chaos happen in front of him. Marik, thought to be comatose, was up on his feet, and had struck Keith right across the jaw. The two now were fighting, aiming punches, dodging here and there. Ryou immediately sat up in his chair, worried.
"Marik!!"
'I'm not like other men.' The voice rang in Ryou's head and slowly faltered. Ryou bit his lip. He remembered the vemon that had laced Marik's words, the tenseness of his hands, the power of his arms when he had held Ryou. Ryou took a step back, an expression of worry and pain crumpling across his face.
Marik...
Lighting fast and quick, Marik showed incredible skillmanship that Ryou never thought was possible. He dodged Keith, who was at least two times bigger, several times, quickly, swiftly, but powerful. He wasn't flexible, not at all, but he was calculating, he was cold. His amethyst eyes were glittering white, cold, furious white.
Ryou bit his lip again, following the fight back and forth as Marik and Keith continued to struggle. Keith, now getting very pissed off, charged at Marik like a bull. Marik, as though anticipating this, stepped to the side- a powerful tanned hand gripped the bandanna on the blond's head, grabbing some of the hair underneath. Snarling, Keith shot out another hand to wrench Marik's leg to unbalance him; Marik swiftly stepped to the side, crashing Keith's head against the floor as he did so. Ryou stood there, gaping, worrying.
Keith quickly pulled himself to his feet. "You want that bitch that badly, asshole?" he yelled at Marik. Marik's eyes narrowed dangerously and he said nothing. "FUCKING ANSWER ME, YOU DIRTY SON OF A BITCH!"
"Dirty?" Marik repeated finally, his eyes brightening something ferocious. "I would hardly call attack a man from behind clean, you sorry excuse for a coward!!"
Lunging forward, Marik swiftly punched Keith in the gut. Yowling, Keith punched back, aiming at Marik's head; Marik blocked it with one arm, never even wincing. Growling, Keith spurred back and reared his hand back, catching Marik off-guard and plowing him in the face.
The crowd gasped and there were shrieks of agony heard from the bystanders. Marik turned to the side from the impact, his eyes closed. Ryou didn't hear himself cry out. The crowd waited anxiously in the next second to see what would happen - but then, suddenly a horrifying thing happened. Though Marik was obviously not going to attack yet, Keith still reared back his leg, and promptly-
-struck Marik in the crotch.
Immediately, Ryou cried out and shoved himself off his seat, hurrying towards Marik. A hand however, shot out at Ryou and grabbed him before he could help the other. He turned to see Mai behind him.
"Mai! Let go of me!! We have to do something to help him!"
Mai merely said nothing, her purple eyes serious.
"Mai! Come on!! We have to help him!"
"Our bouncer isn't here tonight," Mai said gravely, her eyes narrowing at Keith. "And he's caused trouble at other resturaunts...there's nothing we can do for Marik, unless we want to get killed too."
"I don't care!" Ryou demanded. He wrenched his arm from Mai and hurried to Marik. "MARIK! Marik!!"
"YOU!" Keith rounded on Ryou, spit at his mouth. "Stay out of this, bitch!"
Stilling, Ryou froze, glaring at Keith angrily. His fists clenched.
"Stay away from Marik!"
"Yeah? Yeah?" Keith demanded, striding past Marik, who was on his knees on the floor. "What are you going to do about it, bitch? You going to take me on, bitch? How about I throw you over a table and fuck you now, in front of everyone, bitch?"
Ryou couldn't move. He was trembling in a mixture of fear and anger. His mouth went dry. Keith was gaining ground - his arm was raised to hit Ryou too.
"Eat shit, you son of a -"
Suddenly, Keith was stopped. A hand shot out of nowhere and had grabbed his wrist. Behind him, Marik was standing, his purple eyes flashing dangerously and his face dark and omnious. His knees were slightly bent, probably from the force of the attack on his manhood - if one looked closely, they could see his hand gripping a nearby chair so hard that it shook.
But Marik didn't give up.
I'm not like other men.
A wicked smirk curled over Marik's face.
"Coward."
Without another word, Marik had struck Keith right across the face. Grabbing the larger blond's collar, Marik continued to punch Keith in the face, kneeing him in the stomach, pounding him left right and center. Finally, Marik grabbed a painful handful of Keith's hair, and with powerful force, crashed him into a nearby table.
He pinned the large bully onto the table, arms wrenched behind his back. For good measure, he wacked Keith hard in the shoulder, to make sure the other wouldn't get any ideas of fighting back soon. Keith began to panic.
"Okay! Okay! Have it your way! I give up!!"
Marik's smirk turned into a terrible, disgusted snarl. For good measure, he forced Keith's head against the table so the bully wouldn't writhe around to regain balance. Keith groaned and begged uncle some more.
For final good measure, as Marik held Keith down, he slammed his fist into the table. Then, just to scare the rest of the coward out of Keith, Marik bent down, and whispered in Keith's ear.
"Don't. Mess. With the package."
Finished, Marik threw Keith into the table, dusting off his hands. The crowd, previously on edge, cheered for Marik, and several men came to help dispose of Keith. Though limping slightly, Marik turned to Ryou anyways, his dark eyes hard.
"..."
Ryou too, finally snapped out of his trance. Anger melting away from his face, Ryou hurried towards Marik, his eyes relieved. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around Marik's neck in a tight embrace.
"Oh, Marik...you're alright..."
A dry snicker was heard.
"If you could call being kicked in the crotch alright..."
They pulled back a little bit. Ryou looked up, his face melting in relief.
Marik smirked. "Don't hate me anymore?"
Ryou sighed, shaking his head. He gave Marik a hug.
"Alright...we're even."
Chuckling, Marik went to return Ryou's embrace. However, before he could do anything, Ryou's shout cut through the air.
"Marik-! He's got a knife-!"
Throwing Ryou back, Marik swiftly turned around. Keith was up again, though his face was swelling and his hair was wrecked, his sunglasses broken, he was charging at Marik with hatred in his eyes - and a knife in his hand.
"Marik! The knife-"
The knife came down on Marik's face; he follwed its path, turning his head to the side. However, faster than anyone can catch, his hands also followed Keith - with a chair in hand.
The chair followed the arc of the knife and Marik's face, hitting Keith across the torso with so much force that the bigger blond went flying and the chair went snapping. As Keith slowly flew through the air, Marik's hand came up, swiftly grabbing the knife from Keith's hand, the chair splintering into many bits. In the next second, Keith had crashed into another table, breaking it in half, before crashing to the floor, sliding into the wall and debris. There, he laid still.
Totally calm, Marik looked down at the knife in his hand, as well as the pieces of woods. He let them go, except for the knife, the splinters shredding from his hands onto the floor.
"Well." Marik flipped the knife up in the air, and caught it by the flat side of the blade by his finger and thumb. "That was a waste of a perfectly good chair."
He flipped the knife back in the air again, before lodging it into a great piece of broken wood from the snapped table. He turned back.
"Marik!" Ryou gasped. He quickly hurried to the taller one. "You're hurt..."
Indeed, Marik's previously flawless cheek was now sporting a thin line of blood. Forgetting 'personal space', Ryou rushed foward with a kleenex to wipe it away - except Marik stopped him.
"Hn." Marik slowly raised a finger to wipe away the blood. He didn't wince once. After a second of looking at it, as though analyzing it, he licked his finger free of blood. His amethyst eyes turned back to Ryou.
"I'm fine."
Hands dropping, Ryou sighed and shook his head. "All the same - a band-aid..."
"Boys."
The two men cut their conversation and turned around. Mai was looking at them, lips pursed, her eyes grave. "Sorry to break this little reunion, but you two better head fast out of here. The police are coming."
"The police?" Marik repeated, his voice flat and stiff. Ryou looked between them, eyes troubled. Mai stepped up towards them and nudged her head in the direction of the door.
"Ishtar..."
Marik said nothing. He briefly looked back at the crowd of men and women around Keith; some were checking to make sure the damage wasn't bad. Marik turned to look back at Mai.
Amethyst eyes met deep purple. The two of them tempoarily gazed at each other understandingly, eyes reading one another's as though in a different language entirely of their own. When Mai finally turned away, unable to hold her gaze against Marik's any longer, Marik curtly stepped away. Without a word, he grabbed Ryou's wrist in one hand, his jacket and keys in the other, and the two of them headed towards the entrance. Mai watched silently as they left without another word.
Her eyes dropped a little, gazing at something far away. The sound of the door shutting echoed in her head.
"Hm? Now what on earth do we have here?"
Wide eyes looked up at her. They remained on her face for several long seconds, before trailing along the sight of her collarbone, milky white, to the supple exposure of her round, slightly-bared breasts. A smug chuckle resonated in the midst as she did up another button to avert his gaze. "You looking for something, dear? 'Cause we don't tolerate stealing around here."
Amethyst eyes narrowed, but the 'boy' remained silent.
A smirk slid across her face. "Get your hands out of the cash register, honey."
Those same amethyst eyes narrowed pretty sharply. But she held her cool. She made it this far in the game, no point losing it now. She was the only one left in the resturaunt now, after all.
The 'boy', tall, slim, with crazy, dirty blond hair, calmly looked away from her gaze. His hand wrapped around the bills and slowly took them out, as though silently mocking her with them. Her eyes narrowed and she toook a step forward.
"Watch it, bastard..."
"I don't think you're in much of a position to do anything," the 'boy' finally said, his voice hard and cold. She stopped, but didn't falter.
"Listen, buddy..."
Suddenly, a cold hand closed upon her shoulder and she looked around. A dark, tall, and burly figure of some insignificant man jeered over her. Alcahol laced his breath and his unshaven jaw was locked in a lustful grin.
She winced and tried to shove him off her. Apparently she hadn't been the only person left in the resturaunt.
"Come here, bitch...cooome here and show me shum goooood time..."
"Get off of me, you bastard!!" She tried to throw her whole weight into the smack. The man grabbed her wrist, his hand nearly five times bigger than hers. "Let go of me -"
"Puurrrrttty tits you got there," he sluurred, "you're a waitress, ain't ya...? Why don't you come and service me toooo for some extra tippppss...?"
She looked over her shoulder frantically. The boy at the cash register had disappeared. She cursed and tried to kick her aggressor in the crotch.
"Noottttttt niiiice," the shadow smirked, "I'm going to get me some tasty tid-bit-Tits..."
She struggled valaintly but to no avail, and was shoved onto the floor. Breath compressing weight forced the air out of her lungs. Trying the best she could before the hand clapsed over her mouth, she closed her eyes and sceamed...
"FUCK OFF!"
SMACK.
The man lurched to the side, not registering what had happened. A chair came down at his side. As he lurched to the side, she quickly scrambled away from him. Above her agressor, she saw that same boy at the register, amethyst eyes dark and cold, his expression never wavering as he cracked his fists time and time again across the agressor's body. His long, lean legs came out and embedded deep into the massive guts several times, before changing tatics and punching the lump of greedy shadow several times into the wall. Mai watched in detached fascination as this boy - no, teenager, nearly a man, beat the bloody mucus out of her miserable agressor, never once flinching as blood began to spatter.
The heavy lump of guts finally slumped onto the floor, unconscious. Mai got to her feet, shaking a little. The male slowly stood up too, slowly looking at her. Mai took a step back.
Blook was flecked across his face. He didn't do anything about it.
He slowly straightened up. In the dim light of the bar, Mai could make out the features on face. Despite the blood, the first thing Mai thought was that he was very handsome- looking...he had an air of mystery and darkness that could draw any woman towards him. His body was tall and finely built, and his stance was firm and confident. But when Mai looked closer, she could see the sublties that changed his whole demeanor - the dirty hands, the slightly ripped shirt, he way he tried to dress properly, but obviously couldn't afford it. His skin looked slightly pale from malnutrition, as though he didn't eat enough meat and couldn't find the essential nutrients in other foods.
If only he had a decent shirt, some designer pants, and add some golden jewerly to his gorgeous self, he'd look like an Egyptian sex god, Mai thought to herself. She slowly stood straight.
Their purple eyes locked onto each other. His read hers and hers read his. She had too much pride to say thank you, at least out loud. She remained as she was, stubborn not to let him realize that she was genuinely thankful that he saved her life.
She took a step back, and, judging on the hollow clacking, knew that the register was still empty. In the distance, sirens wailed. The boy - teen- man?...didn't move.
She silently sighed to herself, her eyes never leaving his. A smirk slowly crept across his face. He understood. She understood.
"Go." She said simply. She waved her hand at him. "Get out of here, you jerk! Get out of here while you still have time."
His smirk didn't leave. He slowly turned around, back towards her, though his eyes remained gazing back at her. Finally breaking contact, he started out the back door.
"Wait!"
He stopped. He turned around. Mai clenched her fists, unsure of what had come over her.
But she, like him, knew the rules of the underworld they both lived in. She, like him, knew what drove him to steal from that cash register that night, yet still help her when she was in greatest need.
She sighed again, but gazed firmly into his eyes.
"...I'm Mai."
His eyes glittered for a moment, before his smirk turned smug. She listened distant as she watched those lips finally curve along every word, caress every sound with that deep, low voice.
He had just matured, Mai thought, hearing that voice. It's deep and it's low, but he's not a man yet. He's still growing. He can't be any older than nineteen, or even eighteen. He's still young.
"...Marik."
The back door swung behind him as he left.
11:00 PM
Motorbike Ride
Adeline Road
Marik Ishtar and Ryou Bakura
It was a long journey back home. Clinging to the waist of Marik, Ryou was resting his head against the leather-clad back of the other, who was driving his motorbike through the dark streets. Ryou watched dimly, silently as avenues of oak trees flew by, and streetlamps flashing slowly in the distance. Everytime under each orange glow, Ryou would sigh silently to himself - an inward sigh, a sigh never to be heard.
It was raining too.
The streets were wet and soaking. Marik, in his leather, was drenched to the skin. Ryou, in his sweater, was even more soaked to the skin. He kept on shivering occasionally against Marik, but Marik either didn't notice or didn't care. Ryou gripped harder around the other's waist.
Bummer, Ryou thought to himself. Your first outing out with another companion and you blew it up. Couldn't dance, got him into a barfight, and got him soaking wet in the rain. Great. Bloody dandy.
They slowly circled into a desolate neighborhood. Ryou faintly read the sign-post as they turned.
Victoria Cresent.
Hmn, lovely, Ryou thought detachedly as he slowly closed his eyes, letting the rain slide off his cheeks. We're almost near home...good timing too..it's almost twelve.
The motorbike was the only sound in the silence.
Sighing, Ryou felt himself lulling in a dull sleep. He tiredly tightened his grip on Marik's waist.
He feels...so much like him. ...I wonder if they're friends?
The bike slowly turned another corner.
Dark, tanned skin. Egyptian heritage. Strong, muscular, and powerful. Ryou smiled dreamily.Those years were the best years of my life...feeling content, feeling safe- ...having someone finally take care of me, and not the other way around.
Ryou sighed softly.
It felt so good to trust someone...
A deep, unsettling feeling twisted his gut. Ryou grimaced.
You're a terrible person to even think of them together like that...
Ryou sighed again and tried to relax his face. He felt the motorbike slowly arrive to a stop.
Sleepily, Ryou opened his eyes. Before him, stood his apartement building. It was homely place, looking more like a large house than an apartment building. It was red-bricked and had friendly windows, with flowered curtains and potted ones sitting outside. The lawn, though wet now, was immaculate and dark green. Tulips and petunias gardened the edge of the house/apartment building.
Slowly, Ryou tried to detach himself from Marik. Somehow, he couldn't seem to do it. He felt Marik snort.
"As much as I like you clinging onto me," said Marik, "I'd rather not catch pneumonia."
Ryou quickly released his grip and clumsily got off the bike. He gathered his bag and keys, draping them over his wet frame. Marik, distracted and tired from the long night, stretched absent-mindedly and looked off into the distance.
Quietly, Ryou finished fishing for his things, discreetly watching Marik out from the corner of his eye.
He's not like other men...
Ryou looked down at his feet. I wonder...why he didn't stay around for the police to come. They would've helped...wouldn't they?
He looked back up at Marik. Marik was still looking away from him. Ryou felt uneasy.
But then again...I got him into this mess...Sighing, Ryou tucked his key into his pocket. ...I shouldn't question him and his decisions.
"...Thank you," Ryou finally said sincerley. He paused, standing there, in front of Marik. "...You know; for taking me home, for dinner..."
Marik arched a single golden eyebrow, turning around to face the smaller one, but it disappeared into his bangs. His amethyst eyes were unreadable. Ryou sighed finally.
"And...thank you," Ryou's hands fell from their clapsed grip on one another. "...For...saving me tonight." He looked up at Marik straight in the eye, and smiled softly. "I wouldn't have wanted to...spend the rest of my night with ...him instead..."
Here, Marik made a snort. He looked away derisively.
"That man was an idiot," Marik said simply. "All brawn, no brain. All cock, no control."
Ryou's gentle smile didn't fade. "Yeah." He lowered his eyes from Marik's, and his fingers slowly intertwined back into a soft clasp. The rain poured down among them, softly, soaking Ryou slowly. His white hair began to sag, becoming straight and shiny. Marik too, shone - his leather twinkled in the glow of the streetlamp, his bike shimmered from the rain. While Marik wasn't looking, Ryou decided that he liked shiny things.
"Anyways," Ryou slowly pulled his hands away from one another to his sides. "...Thanks," he said. His brown eyes turned back up to meet Marik's, who had turned around. Marik merely stared back at them, unreadable, unfathomable. Those amethyst eyes merely stared at him with a sort of distant intensity - as though they were not looking at Ryou, but looking through him...through at him something so much deeper.
Ryou's soft smile fell a little.
Do you remember the last time someone helped you...?
Ryou lowered his head. Rain slithered down his hair and face.
When someone protected you from something as scary as that?
The droplets of rain slid down to Ryou's arm. They formed their way down his clenched hands.
You gave them a hug, remember? Hugged them, held them...just because you wanted every soft little comfort that you could get.
His front bangs shielded his eyes. His fists trembled.
Only to be used...only to be told ...
A soft hand briefly touched his arm. Ryou snapped his eyes open, raindrops trickling down his face as he stared up at Marik. The older one still had that intense gaze upon him, his face blank, his expression void. Instinctively, Ryou felt his heart lurch forwards - but he took a step back instead, tearing his arm away from Marik, as though the other's touch had burned.
'No...'
Ryou suddenly realized his subsoncious mistake. He quickly stuffed the hand of the arm that Marik had touched into his pocket. He pretended to be fumbling around for his keys, though his eyes never left Marik's locked gaze.
"...Thank you," Ryou repeated again, though his voice this time was distant, as though he was only saying 'thank-you' as a means of saying anything... His fingers closed upon the cold metal of his key. "...If there's...anything I could ever do to repay you..."
Marik's eyes briefly shimmered something, but Ryou couldn't tell what it was. His fingers gripped his key tightly, feeling the sharp ridges along his flesh. He fondled the metal subconsciously, anxiously ...as Marik slowly got off his bike, and took a step towards Ryou.
In the darkness and in the rain, Ryou felt utterly immobile. He could only stare - lose himself- into Marik's eyes, as that strong, tanned hand came up to his cheek. That same tanned hand brushed away a feather of his hair - tucking it over his ear, clearing away the rain. Ryou watched, distantly trying to figure out those lilac depths -...that hand floated from his air, and slid under his chin. Its grip was firm but not frightening, its pull dominating but not threatening. Ryou took a step forward, almost falling after Marik's powerful pull.
A soft thumb brushed Ryou's lips.
"I'm pretty sure I can think of something," Marik's voice breathed. Ryou's lungs paused. "That is...if you really want to repay me..."
A sad part of Ryou's brain, to his shame, wanted to say yes.
Don't fall back...don't fall for the same trick again...
Ryou didn't even notice his lips being drawn to Marik's. He didn't even realize he was that close to shutting his eyes.
"...Yes," Ryou whispered. No, Ryou whispered. Don't pull me back the same way that they did...that he did...
Marik's thumb stroked the soft, wet lips of the smaller one. His own lips floated downwards, merely a finger's placement away.
"Then..." The thumb stroked under the lips, and slid to the side of the jaw. "...You owe me a kiss."
Having nearly closed, Ryou's eyes fluttered open. The purple eyes were now glinting lightly in the streetlight. A small smirk curled across the handsome face.
Almost mirroring the other, Ryou's face also broke into a soft smile. The hand on his jaw left his side; the taller male took a step back.
"Not tonight," Marik's voice smirked, far away in Ryou's mind. Ryou found himself nodding, the back of his mind heavy with shame.
"...Personal space and all that jazz?" Ryou asked quietly. Marik's smirk widened, it registered in Ryou's mind waveringly, like ripples in a watery lake.
"Hmn hn," Marik's voice floated. The hand left Ryou's general vicinity altogether, leaving him feeling strangely chilly. His arms wrapped around one another unconsciously for the warmth that had just left. Marik noticed this and when his voice spoke again, it had lost all its distance and renosance...now it radiated a command, a stern command.
"Go inside," Marik's deep voice said. Ryou snapped out of his trance and looked at Marik with big, brown eyes. "Get inside. It's freezing out."
As though suddenly remembering that there was rain, Ryou looked up, his eyes widening at the little droplets on his face. Panic flickered across his face.
"Oh my goodness-"
Marik snorted, but his smirk was evident. "Get inside."
Ryou hastily looked back to Marik. "I'm sorry, I - "
"Save your debt for later." Marik sat back on his bike, saddling it. "Get inside."
After blinking a few times at Marik, Ryou slowly broke into a smile. Laughing softly, he nodded at Marik understandingly, and then turned around to head inside his building.
"...Goodnight," Ryou called, as he slid his key into the door. The key felt warm from all his gripping.
A rev of the engine was his answer. Ryou turned briefly to see Marik waving at him with a short flick of his hand. Ryou smiled lightly, his hair dripping with raindroplets.
He watched as Marik revved the engine, and skillfully turned that motorbike around, heading in the other direction. Sighing softly, Ryou brushed back his wet hair, before slowly closing the door.
A/N: That took me a while, but I was having a bit of a writer's block with their characters. I had no idea waht the heck I was doing with malik and Bakura other that setting up plot - but the character development there was iffy. And I don't know...I don't like how Ryou turned out in his chapter, but it was my attempt to make him a little tougher, and to throw in that random wrench that makes Ryou not the usual 'naive and innocent' Ryou everyone knows. He's twenty -something, I'm pretty sure he'll know some guy things by now. ...I hope.
Marik was a pain to write. I am so glad I didn't add Touzoku in this or else Touzoku would've blown me up like poof.
Anyways, please read and review!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
-AL