Warning: Most of the chapters from here on out will be of a graphic sexual nature. If you find this sort of thing offensive, please don't continue reading. If you have no problem with it, enjoy this story to the fullest.

By Definition Evil

Part 2

Greed: n. A rapacious desire for more than one needs or deserves, as of food, wealth, or power; avarice.

"Malik called. He's coming home for Christmas."

Rishid glanced up at his stepsister from across the table and smiled. "Is he? That's wonderful."

"Yes." Ishizu paused to sip from her chardonnay. "We've never celebrated Christmas, but I thought it would be a good time since it's so close to his birthday. That, and he gets so depressed this time of year, what with…" Ishizu's voice died off. The past wasn't something they talked about. "…anyway, he'll be flying in on Thursday. Will you pick him up?"

"Of course. It will be nice seeing him again."

Ishizu nodded and smiled. She'd been happy lately. The museums she had established under the jurisdiction of the WHS were being greeted with praise, and even her personal life—a romance with one millionaire, Seto Kaiba—was unfolding marvelously. The years of darkness behind her, Ishizu was emerging as the beautiful, successful woman she had always dreamed of being.

Rishid just followed in her slipstream. He was happy that she was happy.

"Excuse me, but I feel a bit tired. I think I'll go to bed." He bowed Ishizu good night and mounted the staircase.

"Alright." She smiled at him, eyes bright as they had never been in youth. "I'll wake you up at eight."

Rishid showered quickly. He didn't look in the mirror. He didn't condition. Then he brushed his teeth and put on his pajamas. He pulled back the covers of his neatly made bed and got in. The ceiling fan gyrated lazily above his head. It reminded Rishid of a toy windmill.

"Answer me."

He wouldn't.

"Even if you ignore me, I will not go away."

He didn't care.

"Please, Rishid. Please talk to me."

The creature could beg to its heart's content.

"You will answer me."

At last, it was showing its true colors—a demanding monster that had no right to torment him.

"It doesn't matter. I'll reach you in your dreams soon enough."

The voice receded, and Rishid felt he might be sick. He had seen violence and despair beyond anything a man should see, but at this moment he could honestly say that he had never been more terrified in his entire life.

"So you're going to D.C. to visit your family for a week?"

"Yeah." Malik nodded to the white-haired college student sitting on the dingy loveseat. "For Christmas."

Ryou frowned. "I'll miss your birthday."

"That's alright. You shouldn't get me anything."

"Why not? I'm your friend, aren't I?"

Malik gave Ryou on of his flitting smiles. "Yeah."

One of my only friends.

"Then let me get you something." Ryou beamed back at him and took a large gulp of coffee. "It's so nice to get away from my studies for a bit. Thanks for having me here for dinner."

"No problem. I can't say my apartment is much to look at, but…"

"Oh, it's not much better than the dorm I'm living in at the university. I'm afraid if I sneeze too loud the place will collapse!"

They laughed together at this. Polite, grown-up giggles.

"Seriously though, I…I'm really grateful. I was so lonely until I met you again. You're a wonderful person to be around, Malik."

The blonde blushed and averted his gaze from Ryou's face. No one had ever called him wonderful before. He didn't deserve it. "I was lonely also." Looking up, Malik realized he'd been talking into thin air. Ryou was nowhere to be seen, but he could hear him clattering about in the kitchen. He followed in his wake.

"Where are your paper towels?"

From where he stood in the doorway, Malik shrugged. "I…uh…I don't think I have any."

"Oh." Ryou chuckled at this—not polite, grown-up chuckles, but actual laughter. "You're such a scatterbrain sometimes, Malik." He wiped his hands playfully on the Egyptian's t-shirt. "How am I supposed to dry my hands without…"

Malik blushed brightly as Ryou's damp palms made contact with his shirt. He wasn't used to being touched, and, even if the white-haired foreigner was his friend, his cheeks began to tingle.

"S-sorry, I…"

"It's okay." Ryou pulled the blonde into gentle hug. "Seriously, I don't know why you're so reclusive. If people knew how great you are, surely…"

Malik wasn't listening. All he was aware of was Ryou's chest against his own, his still wet palms pressing lightly on his back. It was strange but comforting. Ryou was his friend. Ryou was…

Ryou was kissing him. Softly on the lips, sweet and chaste at first but growing steadily more hungry. A minute later and there was tongue. Malik found himself pushed up against the kitchen counter. It was his first kiss. He was happy and a little bit afraid.

"I hate seeing you so lonely."

A hand made its way under Malik's shirt. He gasped as it rubbed one of his nipples, setting off wincing, good-bad sensations beneath his navel. His gasp caused the kiss to deepen, the palms to rove more freely. That Ryou was a creature of such lust astounded him. He was overwhelmed. He felt inadequate.

"I've never…"

…done something like this before?" Ryou smiled, beautiful and alive and full of promises. "Don't worry. I can show you if you'll let me."

Malik consented. He allowed Ryou to lead him to the bedroom, to lay him down on the mattress and kiss him stupid. He let the boy's pale hands work their magic. After the incident at Battle City, lack of control scared Malik, but he trusted Ryou. His hips twitched as the younger boy licked the trail of golden fuzz that disappeared beneath his jeans. He wanted desperately what was about to happen, but in a way he dreaded it as well.

"Can I take your clothes off?"

Malik laughed nervously and nodded. If he said no, Ryou would not force him. However, the blonde wanted to be forced. His revenge-driven adolescence had left no room for something like this. He wanted to feel the intimacy of another's flesh. Even if it scared him.

"You're so pretty. I wish my body was as nice as yours."

"It's not…yours is…"

Malik's shirt slid off easily, exposing his torso—whole on one side, fractured on the back. He watched as the paler boy removed his own top. His chest was lightly chiseled, skin pale and flawless except for a thin scar running below the shoulder his left arm. The blonde reached up to trace it. He bit his lip against the emotion of the mark's slight roughness.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I…I didn't think it had scarred like that."

"Oh, this?" Ryou turned to the blemish and laughed. "Just my yami's foolishness. It's nothing to worry about."

"It was my fault."

"No." The boy shook his head firmly. "It wasn't."

Their lips connected, and Malik was surprised as his tongue was drawn into the other's mouth. Ryou tasted like coffee and artificial sweetener. His hair brushed Malik's shoulders. It wasn't as soft as it appeared.

"You shouldn't beat yourself up for what happened." Ryou's fingers popped the fly of Malik's pants, moving down to flirt with the hemline of his boxers. "You were sixteen for God's sake! As a child, you're father…"

"Ryou!" Malik arched his back in astonishment as the paler boy's thumb brushed his half-erect arousal. "Wh-wha…"

"Shh…just relax." Ryou smiled and ran his palm back and forth along the blonde's member. "You really are new to this, aren't you?"

"…uh…uh huh…" Malik threw his head back and moaned. Where had Ryou learned to do this? In college?

"Why is that, I wonder?"

"I don't…never really had the…oh fuck!"

Ryou's hand encircled him completely, moving in short jerks to bring the blonde to full attention. Malik watched dazedly as his pants were removed. He was vaguely aware of being embarrassed by his nakedness, of being surprised that, without stimulation, Ryou was as erect as he was. The pale-haired boy leaned over him, allowing his arousal to brush against Malik's abdomen. He gave the blonde's nipple a playful tweak, kissed him softly between the eyes.

"Will you have sex with me?"

Ryou…

"I've never…"

"Don't worry. You'll do fine. Here, I can stretch myself."

Malik watched with a mixture of fascination and disgust as Ryou prepared himself. He was turned on by the evolution of the paler boy's expression—how it slipped so subtly from pain into arousal that he barely caught the difference. After about a minute, Ryou must have judged that he'd done an adequate job, for he ceased his ministrations and came up to straddle Malik at the hips. He pulled a tube of something from inside the pocket of his discarded jeans.

"R-Ry…"

Malik broke off into a shriek-like groan as said boy squeezed something cold and gelatinous onto the tip of his arousal.

"It's just a lubricant. Makes things easier."

Patting the blonde's cheek in reassurance, Ryou began to slide his hand down his shaft, spreading the substance as he went. Malik winced at the sensation, wondering dimly why Ryou would carry something like lube around with him.

"Are you ready?" The paler boy hovered over him, kissed him quietly on the lips."

"…yes…"

Cold was replaced with heat and apprehension with unmanageable ecstasy. Malik's eyes rolled back. His back arched. He felt like he was going to start crying. This was unreal, a hallucination. Hell, he wasn't even in love with Ryou! Though, the blonde supposed, love and lust were entirely different feelings. He was aware of the other boy gasping, of the sensation surrounding his arousal fluctuating—cold, hot, cold, hot, cold, hot—in time with his hiccoughed breathing.

Tentatively, Malik began to move in time with Ryou's rocking. This was not something he had done before. What if he was horrible in bed? What if Ryou…"

Malik's anxiety was swallowed up by the paler boy's keening moans. They became lost in each other, both physically and in the abstract. Hips and hands and agitated, wanting voices. Sex was all about greed. Taking from others, nurturing desire until it became a force entirely its own. Malik was vaguely aware of this truth. Ryou's knowledge was probably quite a bit clearer.

"…harder…g-go…I'm almost…"

Ryou came all over Malik's stomach. The blonde lasted perhaps ten seconds longer before he, too, reached his climax. His orgasm hit in a flash of white, so sudden it surprised him and so intense it was almost uncomfortable. When it was over, Malik felt as if he had run an entire marathon. His limbs hurt. His heart insisted on pumping blood at a rate that was no longer necessary. Ryou, too, looked exhausted.

Malik craned his neck to get a better view of the boy still splayed out across his chest. As the effects of his orgasm receded, his natural insecurity reasserted itself. Once again he blushed at their nakedness, at Ryou's sweaty face smiling back at him.

"You're pretty good. Hard to believe it was your first time, actually."

Something clicked in Malik's mind, and a sigh escaped his parted lips. He had never been more grateful for the pale boy's friendship. The ease of Ryou's demeanor leaked into him, and he relaxed just a little.

"I've wanted to…for a long time…you have no idea." Ryou babbled softly, lips tweaked in a sensuous, slightly embarrassed smile.

"Uhh…you have?" These were the first words Malik was able to utter. He was too tired to be eloquent.

"Yes." Ryou laughed softly and reached up to flick a strand of hair from Malik's eyes. "I've always been attracted to you. It was one of the reasons I sought you out when I learned you were in Cairo."

"Oh."

"And you've turned out to be such a great person. Really, Malik, I'm lucky to have you as a friend."

Ryou kissed him again, and Malik found himself wondering what he'd done to deserve something as wonderful as the pale boy's friendship.

"I'm lucky, too, Ryou."

He really was.

Much to his relief, Rishid's dreams remained unhaunted by his master's monster. It seemed that the creature had given up, or, at the very least, was currently preoccupied. He stumbled downstairs to pour a cup of coffee, knowing that Ishizu had already left for work.

Perhaps there was no voice. Perhaps I merely imagined it.

This thought was consoling and completely inaccurate. What Rishid had heard was, indeed, the voice of Malik Ishtar's darkness. He couldn't keep ignoring it. If Rishid did not act, who knew what means it would resort to?

Above all else, he could not let that thing get to Malik. He would die first. He would…

"Rishid, can I ask you something?"

Rishid's mug hit the floor with a resounding crack. Bits of glass and scalding coffee fanned out across the linoleum floor.

"Rishid?"

"Get out of my mind." He said this without thinking, without remembering that, at all costs, he must avoid talking to it.

"You should know by now that that isn't going to happen."

Rishid gritted his teeth. He wouldn't reply…not this time…not even if it begged him…not even if its voice was a bit weaker than before.

"Rishid?"

God, he hated when it said his name!

"Does Malik love you back?"

He didn't have to answer. Malik's darkness was suddenly gone.

The creature who was not Malik Ishtar was in turmoil. Until now, everything had gone according to plan. He'd established contact with Rishid, had even managed to get him to react.

However, something had broken his concentration. It came from the part of him that was still connected to Malik, the little shred of awareness he had to maintain if he wanted to keep a grip on his own reality. It was both like and unlike pain. Probably natural, but certainly not something the creature who was not Malik had ever experienced before. He sweated because of it, moaned loudly and longed for something he was unable to define. It was like trying to breathe without knowing how, attempting to run with legs that had been cut off.

As in birth, he was completely ignorant and very much afraid.

A more easily recognized but equally undesirable presence was also plaguing him. A creature from the annals of history, three thousand years of darkness still trapping victims in its hate. The ghost who called itself Bakura stood beside him as he writhed in the shadows. His smirk was delicate—a gesture of refined sadism.

"How can you hope to defeat Malik when you're still unable to comprehend the most mundane of human tendencies?"

Mundane? How the fuck was this mundane? He waited impatiently for the specter to elaborate, all the while combating the thing inside him that threatened to explode.

"It must be true then, that your host is inexperienced. I'll admit I had my doubts."

"F-fu…Bakura, what's happening to me?!" He hated himself for asking this, but he hated the unknown sensations even more.

The smirk of the Thief King widened, and he knelt down so they were at eye level. "You mean you have no idea?" He reached out, hand stroking the blonde's shaking, shadow-ravaged body. "I suppose I could show you. Would you like that?"

No. But he had little choice in the matter. Already, Bakura was moving closer. He crawled to him with the treacherous grace of a feline, pale body infuriatingly immune to the darkness' cloying hunger.

"I must say, banishment in the shadows has certainly left you much the worse for wear."

Why deny it? What Bakura said was true. The creature who was not Malik was slowly being re-consumed. Already, his hands and feet were losing feeling, and his entire complexion appeared a bit translucent. However, the worst of the damage was internal. The shadows were slowly reclaiming his mind, pulling it apart in little pieces and luring him back into what he had been—or hadn't been—before.

"You're tired of fighting, aren't you?" Bakura placed a hand between his legs, causing the creature who was not Malik to jerk in astonishment. "Unlike you, I don't need to fight off darkness. Do you know why?"

Bakura paused, waiting for the question they both knew would never come.

"Because I am the darkness." He cackled, the revenge he had promised at Battle City a little more complete. "But I am also merciful, and I am more than willing to give you an education, little Marik."

Marik. Was that his name now? He didn't like it—too much like an ugly parody of his host's name—but he didn't know how to reject it. Was the luxury of rejection even allowed when it came to giving names?

However, Marik was not given a chance to ponder this. He was distracted by Bakura's hand on his crotch, by the nervous, uncomfortable feeling inside him that was so incompatible with his usual vehemence. He tried to fight back, but in the darkness Bakura was stronger. A pale, naked body loomed above him, standing out in the darkness but emitting no light of its own. The gaze of the Thief King did not follow the angles of his equally unclothed figure. Rather, Bakura stared straight into Marik's eyes, more turned on by helpless confusion he found in them than by anything physical.

"You're reacting to me, Marik."

And he was. A foreign emotion crept nefariously into the younger monster's thoughts. He couldn't put a name on it, but it made him avert his eyes and long to run away.

"Don't be ashamed, little Marik. This is only natural."

Shame. That was it.

"Don't touch me, Bakura." He struggled despite the futility of his situation, more out of personal obligation than actual hope. He couldn't submit. Rebellion was too ingrained in Marik's nature. Never stop fighting. That was his mantra.

But it was hard to fight with a hot tongue being dragged up his chest, with dexterous, sharp-nailed fingers teasing him far too intimately. Marik almost screamed as those nails dug into the tip of his hardness. It was agony, but not the kind of agony he was used to, the kind he had learned to harness or cast off in a bought of unmanageable laughter. This was something completely different. It bordered too much on pleasure to be captured and was too embarrassing to be laughed at.

So he combated it with anger. Brought up by the dredges of his blackened heart, Marik threw his rage at Bakura with all the energy he had left. He cursed, bit, played little shadow tricks with what magic he had left. His vaguely translucent limbs lashed out, and the paler spirit was forced to pin them down with magic of his own.

"You're not being very reasonable," he spat out through gritted teeth. "You should be thanking me for giving you something so enjoyable."

"…fuck, Bakura…fuck…I'll kill you…"

"No you won't." The thief King grinned and for a moment his brown eyes seemed almost crimson. "You will grow weaker and fade back into nothing, but not before I've taught you something."

Bakura's malicious fingers let go of Marik's hardness and moved lower. They explored his sensitive flesh almost gently before shoving themselves roughly inside him. The blonde shouted in surprise. He tried to fight back, but his immobile legs were spread too far apart for it to make a difference. What the fuck was Bakura doing to him? How long had it taken him to come up with this sick, twisted…

Bakura's fingers twitched, and Marik's body gave an involuntary shudder. Another twitch, and his body went into an all-out convulsion. "…Bakura…" Marik uttered the paler's name without thinking. He couldn't decide what was worse—the fact that Bakura could violate him so easily or the fact that he almost thought he liked it.

"I told you," Bakura whispered hotly into his ear. "You love it. You bitch, you fucking love it!" He slid his tongue possessively over the darker's tan cheek.

"…the hell…the hell I do …" Marik snapped at the Thief King's tongue, missing the appendage but managing to sink his teeth deeply into the spirit's lower lip. Bakura shouted in outrage and jerked away, blood dribbling down his chin.

"Have it your way, then."

The fingers were removed. His legs were spread wider. Suddenly, Marik was engulfed in the most horrible pain he had ever encountered. Dry and hot and angry, Bakura's erection forced itself into his body. His muscles refused to loosen, but clamped tighter around it, causing both spirits to cry out sharply.

"What's wrong with you, Marik? Don't you like it?"

The blonde screamed as Bakura pulled out and rammed himself deeper into his body. He felt the skin around the edges tear open. Blood, at least, reduced the friction.

"Come on, Marik! Tell me it feels good!" Bakura leered down at him—eyes bright, face split by a manic bought of laughter.

His body hurt in a way he had never thought possible. He bit his own lip to keep from screaming but choked on the blood that collected in his mouth. Marik hated Bakura, hated him with everything he had, but, in this situation, hatred would never be enough.

"How can you expect to take over for Malik when you're not even human enough to make this feel good?"

Human enough? What was he talking about? What kind of human would.,

"Oh shit, Bakura! Oh fuck! Stop it!"

The paler spirit grinned as the blonde screamed his name and angled his thrust at the spot again. "Why? You know you like it."

He was wrong. Marik didn't like it. He hated being weak. He hated losing control. But his body felt differently. Three more thrusts left him stupid with shame and arousal. Another three, and he lost control completely. His hips jerked. His torn lips trembled, and for a long, beautiful moment Marik's vision was obscured by bursts of exploding starlight.

When Marik regained awareness of himself, Bakura was gone. He was alone and unbound. His body was absolutely aching. Sitting up, a mixture of blood and cum spilled from between the blonde's thighs. A quiet fury built up in him as he stared at it, slowly realizing what Bakura had done to him.

That was sex?

And people thought he was sick! Hell, he wouldn't…he didn't like…

Gripping his hair in frustration, Marik allowed himself a quiet moan. He felt as confused and helpless now as he had at the dawn of his creation. How could anyone enjoy such humiliation? How could anyone equate what had just happened to him with love? To be debased in such a way. To be so blatantly and remorselessly used…

Marik concluded that people who denounced cruelty were hypocritical if they were willing to do such things to the ones they claimed to love.

-TOT (This was probably one of my quickest (and raunchiest) updates ever. I haven't written more than one lemon per chapter in a long time. I had trouble with Marik's personality in this chapter. It's difficult to convey his naivety while keeping him in character. Ryou and Malik also took some tinkering. Usually Malik's the knowledgeable one and Ryou's innocent. I enjoyed flipping that around.)

Please review. Your opinions are very much appreciated.