The entire next week passed by in an exhausting frenzy. Marik came home late day after day, throwing his shoes into a corner of the entry way, marching into the kitchen and slamming a skillet on the stove to cook the first thing he could find in the fridge, and finally falling into bed for what seemed more like a short nap than satisfying sleep. He and Bakura still played Duel Monsters at night, after dinner, but Marik had said no to bets for this week. He was too worn out without that extra complication, but he agreed that on the weekend, they could bet again.

During his work breaks, he constantly rearranged his deck. He got rid of cards he felt were useless and added in new, powerful ones. He strategized and weighed the effect of each card, imagining how he might play it during a duel, and then later that night, he tried new strategies on Bakura. After the third night, he wasn't imagining it. He was actually getting better at dueling this way. He even managed to beat Bakura one night, though the duel had been very close.

Finally, it was Saturday night, and Marik couldn't deny that he was feeling a little antsy. He assumed that they would just play for a blowjob like last week, when suddenly Bakura slammed something down on the table and smirked at him.

"Let's raise the stakes," he said.

Marik examined the bottle curiously. When he caught sight of the label, he spluttered.

"Lube?" Marik asked, too shocked to speak properly. "Where the hell did you get that?"

"I stole it, of course." Bakura folded his arms. "But don't worry, I was very careful. What do you say to changing the bet?"

Marik wasn't sure what to say. "Are you- what are you implying here? What's the new bet?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Bakura sat down at the table and started shuffling his deck. "Whoever loses gets fucked."

Marik's throat went dry. As tempting as the idea of fucking Bakura was- even a week later, he still warmed at the image of Bakura with his mouth around him, gripping his pants, expertly swirling his tongue- there was the distinct possibility that Marik could lose. And he would really hate that. A blowjob was one thing; although the loser had to give head, he still maintained control of the situation. He could use his mouth, his tongue, his hands to control the rhythm and the response. But fucking...if Marik lost this bet, he would have to totally give himself over to Bakura. It was an unpleasant thought. On the other hand, if Marik won this bet and got to fuck Bakura, he would be in complete control of him. He would dominate him completely. And that idea was appealing enough to make Marik want to take the chance. Still, though, he wanted a way to make sure he would win.

Bakura sat quietly, looking at Marik, waiting for his decision.

"Okay," Marik finally said. "But on one condition. You'll have to let me use a handicap."

"A handicap?"

Marik nodded. He'd been re-creating and testing his deck all week, but he still didn't entirely feel ready. A handicap, however, was the perfect solution.

"Instead of starting with only 8,000 life points, let me start with...12,000."

"Hell no!" Bakura snapped. "Are you trying to make sure that I lose?"

"Well, yes, of course," Marik scoffed, but then continued more seriously, "But you want a fair game, right? I think I'll have a better chance if you give me some extra points."

Bakura glanced at Marik, seeing the hesitation plainly written on his face. He had to admit- albeit, only to himself- that Marik had gotten better over the week. He had managed to surprise Bakura with good moves and strategies a few times and had even made him lose once. But he still wasn't that great. With the handicap, Marik could conceivably win, but Bakura really doubted that, especially if he only gave him a few thousand extra points.

"Alright," Bakura conceded. "I guess it'll make things more interesting. I'll give you 9,500 life points."

"How about 10,000?" Marik bargained, and then hastily added, "Whenever I lose to you, I lose by more than 3,000 points, so I think an extra 2,000 is fair."

Bakura considered this, and finally relented. "Fine, you'll start with 10,000. Now, draw your cards."

They each drew five cards and started the duel. Marik was bright and alert, hesitating and thinking each move through before making it. Since he wasn't drinking this time, he was completely focused, and knew that Bakura was the same. After all, the wrong move would cost either of them the game.

For a while, they were evenly matched, and Marik held a bated breath every time he attacked a facedown monster or watched Bakura draw a new card and smile, fearing the worst. As their life points dwindled, Marik's pulse quickened and his heart knocked loudly in his chest.

"I place Hayabusa Knight onto the field, and equip it with the Malevolent Nuzzler and the Sword of Deep-Seated-" Bakura said, giving Marik a wide smile, "-giving it 2,200 attack points."

Marik glanced down at his own side of the field. His Metal Reflect Slime was still there with 3000 defense points. It was a trap card with zero attack points but worked magnificently as a shield.

"You don't have enough points to take out my card," Marik said smugly.

Bakura smirked and suddenly threw a Remove Trap onto the field.

"Now I do," he said, his eyes bright and feverish. Since Metal Reflect Slime was technically a trap card, it promptly went into the graveyard, leaving Marik defenseless.

"And you'll recall that Hayabusa Knight can attack twice in one turn, so I attack you directly for 4,400 life points." Bakura's glance fell to Marik's Magic and Trap card side of the field. "Are you going to do anything about it?"

All Marik had was an Acid Trap Hole, which would do nothing for him right about now.

"No," he gritted his teeth.

He watched as Bakura wrote down the new score. Bakura had 3,200 life points. Marik had 50. He was screwed. He was screwed in the most literal and figurative sense of the word because he didn't have a single damned card in his deck to combat Bakura's overpowered Hayabusa Knight.

Marik drew a card, his hand nearly shaking in anger. He drew Graceful Charity- "Draw 3 cards from your deck, then discard any 2 cards from your hand."

He drew three cards and discarded two. And then, as he laid eyes on the card he now had in his hand, he glanced across the table at Bakura and smiled a slow, cat-like smile.

"Consider yourself fucked, Bakura," he said, and threw the card down. "I play Change of Heart."

The color instantly drained out of Bakura's face. Hayabusa Knight belonged to Marik for one turn, and just like that, he wiped out the last of Bakura's life points.

Bakura sat stunned. Marik smiled at him, giving him a moment to take it all in.

"Alright," Marik finally said, glancing toward the doorway. "Why don't we do this on my bed? It'll be a lot more comfortable than the couch."

"Now?" Bakura asked, looking apprehensive.

"What's wrong?" Marik smiled. "Do you want to delay it?"

"No," Bakura said.

"Do you want to back out of our deal?"

"No," Bakura growled and turned toward the doorway. "Forget it. Let's just get this over with."

The walk across the house seemed to take forever. Marik was afraid that Bakura would overhear the striking, loud beat of his heart as it raced and raced and raced, and that he would notice how Marik's fingers flexed in agitation and how he kept flicking the hair out of his face.

Once they finally got to the bedroom, Marik shut the door behind them and turned to face Bakura.

"So. Um. I guess you'll need to take your clothes off," said Marik, fidgeting a little.

Bakura looked slightly annoyed at being told what to do, but he did as Marik said. He rolled the plain t-shirt over his head, inch by inch revealing a pale, taut abdomen, then stomach, then chest, until he finally threw the shirt to the floor. Marik's breath hitched at the sight of his upper body; unlike his own, which he considered more physically fit and toned, Bakura's was lithe and nimble. His skin was the pale color of desert sand reflecting in the bright, afternoon sun.

Marik watched Bakura fixedly as he removed the rest of his clothes. Finally, Bakura stood naked before Marik.

"Well, quit staring," Bakura said, crossing his arms. "You'll need to take your clothes off too, you know."

"Right," said Marik, ducking his head and avoiding Bakura's gaze.

Marik took his pants and boxers off, and laid down on the bed. Bakura laid down next to him. Then he rolled over, turning his back to Marik.

"Alright, do it."

Marik was a bit thrown by Bakura's abruptness. He stared at the back of Bakura's head, unsure of exactly how to start.

"Um...I guess I should stretch you out first, then?" asked Marik finally.

"No, screw that," said Bakura irritably. "Don't mess around with touching me. I just want to get this over with as fast as possible. Use a lot of lube, and that will be enough."

"It still seems like I could hurt you."

"Marik, you made me fucking stab myself before, and I dealt with that," said Bakura. "I think I can handle this. So will you just get on with it?"

Marik sighed. "If you say so."

Marik coated himself with the lube, and then he began shifting around, trying to line himself up. It was a strange angle, and he couldn't seem to get it quite right.

"What the hell are you doing?" asked Bakura, obviously getting impatient.

"This is a really awkward angle," Marik admitted. "Can you- can you get on your hands and knees?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I just think it would be an easier position," said Marik.

"Fine, whatever," said Bakura. "If only so we can get this finished instead wasting time arguing."

Bakura grudgingly got up and positioned himself on his hands and knees, and Marik knelt behind him.

Marik lined himself up again. Alright, this would work better. He placed his hand on Bakura's thigh for a moment- whether to steady himself on the bed or to feel his skin under his fingertips, he didn't know- but then felt awkward about the extraneous touch and removed it. From the brief touch, however, he noticed that Bakura's muscles were taut and rigid.

"You're really tense."

"Of course I am," snapped Bakura. "Do you think I like the idea of you...dominating me this way?"

Marik had to smile, because that was one of the things he liked so much about this situation. Just Bakura's words about dominating him seemed to go straight to his cock.

Still, though, his nerves were jumping, and his heart was pounding from something more than just excitement.

"It's going to hurt more if you're tense," Marik said. "Are you sure you don't want me to prepare you first? Because I think-"

Bakura snapped his head around and faced Marik. "Marik, I swear, if you don't shut up and just do it, I'm going to call this whole thing off."

"Fine," said Marik.

And then, with no further warning, he shoved into Bakura as hard as he could.

Bakura didn't make a sound, but Marik could see his face twist in a grimace of pain.

"You still so sure about not wanting preparation?" Marik asked sardonically, pulling all the way out.

"I'm fine," Bakura said through gritted teeth.

"Alright," said Marik, more irritated now than anything else.

He shoved back in brutally.

He noted with dissatisfaction that Bakura still didn't make a sound, though Marik saw him wince again. He pulled out and shoved back in one more time, not even trying to be gentle. There was no further result, aside from the fact that Bakura's arms were now shaking, as if he found it difficult to hold himself up through the pain.

What he really wanted was to make Bakura break down and admit he'd been wrong about the preparation. But he realized that wasn't going to happen. Bakura would suffer through this, if only to prove a point. He could dominate Bakura physically, but he couldn't truly subjugate him- he couldn't make him lose control.

And the way Bakura's face was scrunched up in pain was absolutely miserable to look at. It was a complete turn-off. He didn't want Bakura to hate this- that wasn't what he'd wanted out of this at all.

Marik pulled out.

"Alright, I give up," he said. "I can't do it like this. Your face- you look like I'm killing you. It's awful to look at."

"Then don't look at my face," Bakura said, turning away from Marik.

Marik sighed and moved away from Bakura, flopping down on his back next to him.

"Alright, you win," he said. "I'm done."

Bakura immediately collapsed onto his stomach. Apparently Marik had been right about him not wanting to hold himself up anymore.

Bakura turned his head and faced Marik. "Seriously?"

"Yes," said Marik irritably. "I'm not going to fucking torture you. It's not enjoyable for me."

Bakura's face softened a little. "Look, I promised I'd do this. I'm not going to back out. You can- you can do whatever you want. You won the game, after all."

"Are you sure?" asked Marik, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, whatever," Bakura grumbled.

Marik felt himself relax a little.

"So, are you sore?" asked Marik.

"A little," Bakura said. "You weren't in that long, and you did use lube. I'll be fine in a few minutes."

"Alright," said Marik. "So, how was that in comparison to stabbing yourself?"

Bakura actually laughed. "Different," he said. "I stabbed myself so quickly I barely felt it- it was a sharp pain, and not long after I just passed out. This was more like a burning pain that just went on."

"Sorry," Marik said sheepishly.

"It's fine now," said Bakura. "By the way, it's weird that you didn't bother taking your shirt off."

"Well, you know, I don't really like having it off in front of other people," Marik said, looking uncomfortable.

"Oh. Your scars."

"Yeah," Marik said. "Anyway, are you ready?"

"Go ahead," said Bakura.

Marik moved to straddle Bakura. Bakura remained lying on his stomach, which Marik figured was fine. He grabbed the bottle of lube and squeezed some into his hand. Then he slid a single cold, slippery finger into Bakura.

This time, he saw no pain register on Bakura's face. He moved his finger in and out slowly, and eventually added a second. Bakura still didn't seem uncomfortable. He bent his fingers, trying to stretch him out more. As he moved his bent fingers out, he felt the pad of his finger brush over a small bump. Bakura gasped sharply. Marik did it again, and heard Bakura pull in a shaky breath.

"Oh, gods," Bakura breathed.

"Good?" asked Marik quietly.

"That- that hurts," Bakura said, voice strained. "Do what you were doing before."

Marik didn't think so, but he shrugged and straightened his fingers. He moved his two fingers in and out, and eventually added a third. He placed his free hand on Bakura's hip again momentarily. He seemed relaxed now.

"Alright, can I start?"

Bakura nodded.

Marik removed his fingers and lowered himself. He slid into Bakura, this time going slowly, giving him time to adjust. He sensed no discomfort from Bakura this time. Eventually, he was all the way in, and he paused. He hadn't had a chance to really enjoy it before, but now, being completely inside Bakura was- it was- there were no words. Amazing didn't even cover it.

"What the fuck are you waiting for now?" Bakura snapped suddenly, after Marik had been still for several seconds. "I do still want you to get this over with, you know."

"Sorry," laughed Marik, feeling better now, and too distracted by the sensation around his cock to be bothered by Bakura's waspish tone.

Marik slid out slowly, and then pushed in again. He went slowly for a little while, but Bakura was warm and tight around him and it was breathtaking, and soon it felt like every nerve in his body was on fire, and every instinct was telling him to go faster and harder. He had never felt anything quite like this before- a craving in his veins and in his bones that transcended the flesh, somehow. And the fact that it was Bakura that he was fucking made him slam in more passionately as he sped up.

He soon lost himself to it, barely able to think anymore as he slammed in and out. And then his whole body was tingling and he felt his blood rush down and his muscles went rigid as he let go, moaning as he exploded in orgasm.

Marik pulled out and collapsed on the bed. He closed his eyes in satisfaction, a feeling of warmth spreading inside him.

Marik rested for a moment. When he opened his eyes and turned to look, he saw that Bakura had already gotten up and put his pants back on.

Marik could only look at him happily through half-lidded eyes.

Bakura scoffed at the look of satisfaction on Marik's face. "Next time, it will be you who gets fucked," Bakura growled.

"Don't count on it," Marik said, smiling at him.

Bakura threw him a disgusted look and strode out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Marik only closed his eyes again.

The next day passed uneventfully. Marik liked to relax and laze around the house on Sundays, in preparation for his busy work week, so not many words were exchanged between him and Bakura over the perpetual drone of the TV.

After dinner, they laid out their cards again and prepared to play.

"Want to bet again?" Bakura asked. His face was a strange mix of sourness from the result of their last game and a feverish eagerness from thinking he could win this next one.

"Okay, if you'll let me have the handicap again," Marik said.

"Hell no," Bakura snapped. "I'm not giving you that leverage anymore. You clearly proved that you're doing just fine on your own."

Marik hesitated. He could win without the handicap. He'd done it before, after all. But the 2,000 points he'd gained from the previous night's handicap had allowed him to win that game. As much as he wanted to bet again- and win, of course- he couldn't push his luck or his skills. He needed more time.

"Then no," Marik stated. "I don't want to bet."

Bakura gave him a tart look. "Oh, so now you're only going to bet when it's most convenient for you? Fuck that-"

"How about we just don't bet again for another week?" Marik asked. When Bakura looked to protest, Marik continued. "We'll bet again next weekend and without the handicap. So it'll be totally fair. My skills against yours."

Bakura gave him a long look. It was clear that they would both do anything to win the game, given the stakes. And he could see that Marik needed more time to get better. That's what this whole thing was about, after all, making sure that Marik was a great enough duelist to win the tournament. And if that meant another week of no bets and of Marik coming home and testing new strategies on him, then Bakura would just have to settle for that.

"Fine," Bakura finally replied, and started shuffling his cards. "No bets for this week. And we're taking out the handicap."

Marik drew his cards, deep in thought. He had to get better now. He only had a week to work through all the flaws in his deck and win without the 2,000-point cushion. He had no other choice, no other way to twist the rules or the game in his favor.

After all, he smiled to himself wryly, it was quite literally his ass on the line here.

AN: Thanks for reading! Please let us know what you think!