A few ashes fell on the collar of Bakura's coat as he breathed in deeply, waiting for the smoke to fill his lungs before he exhaled again. He stood under a dim streetlight with one hand in his pocket and the other pulling the cigarette from his mouth. He betrayed neither darting looks nor fidgeting fingers, but his insides were in knots. He had been out on the streets of Luxor for a few hours already, but he'd still had no luck.

He couldn't concentrate. He'd approached a few duelists already, but the moment he'd been within reach, his instincts had taken over, warning him, pushing him back, and holding him rooted to the sidewalk before he could slip his hand into a stranger's pocket. He knew from past experience that this restless mindset was detrimental to stealing. He needed complete focus. He needed a blank, clear mind, but his thoughts were scattered, thinking back to either last weekend, or anticipating the next duel when he and Marik would bet. Which would be on Saturday.

Tomorrow.

Bakura took a short breath and threw his cigarette on the ground before he could finish it. He set out at a slow pace down the sidewalk, keeping his face hidden. He'd stuffed his hair into a baseball cap, which sat backward with its strap digging into his forehead. The last thing he wanted was for someone to notice that a pale man with long, bright white hair was stealing tokens during the preliminaries, and the cap was the only thing he could think to camouflage himself a little.

He kept both hands in his pockets and his head down. In the right coat pocket, his hand curled around a smooth, metallic object. Marik had worn his coat the other day, throwing it on before rushing out the door, and Bakura noticed that he'd left something in it.

A gold bracelet, though from earlier inspection, he'd realized that the gold was fake. So merely a trinket, but a very convincing one at that. And since Marik only preferred the most glimmering and sparkling gold he could find, Bakura surmised that it was of no use to either of them.

"...but tell me, how much? I would feel so bad if you spent your whole paycheck on it!"

Bakura glanced up. A couple was walking down the sidewalk toward him, the young woman clasping the man's arm as he smiled down at her, and she looked up. Their voices faded in and out as Bakura slowed and listened.

"Don't worry, I didn't," he laughed. "I bought that and saved the rest. Besides, I'll be working longer hours next week..."

The girl smiled. As they walked closer, Bakura noticed several things at once. The couple was very young. The man was enraptured; he stared down at the girl more often than he looked where he walked. The girl wore a set of gold earrings, a jade necklace, and a sparkling ring that she frequently eyed. Lastly, the man had a duel disk on his left arm.

A duelist.

Suddenly, Bakura smiled to himself. The night was looking better already. He changed his demeanor abruptly, straightening up, pulling both hands out of his pockets, and plastering an apprehensive look on his face.

"Excuse me, sir," he said as the couple approached him.

The young man glanced at him sharply, as though just now realizing that someone else was sharing the sidewalk with them. "Yes?"

"I have a, uh, bit of a favor to ask," Bakura said. As he bit his lip, the girl stared at him curiously, while the man looked impatient.

"I don't know how much I can help you," the man started. "I'm in a hurry to get to a duel."

"That's actually what I wanted to ask about," Bakura continued, smiling slightly. "You see, I just started in the tournament this week. And I lost my first duel, so I lost my only token."

The man's mouth formed a thin line. "Look, if you're asking me for my token, you can forget it-"

"No, it's not that!" Bakura hastened to say, his voice jumping an octave. "I mean, not exactly. It's just that...well, I really need to stay in the tournament. I'm practicing to get better and start winning duels, but I can't duel again without a token. And, well, you look like you've been winning a lot of duels-" Bakura hazarded a guess, and was pleased to see the man's mouth twitch in a small smile, "I was hoping that you might, uh, exchange one of your tokens for something of mine."

The man's eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to reply, but the girl beat him to it.

"What, exactly?" she asked, her eyes wide and bright blue as she peered at Bakura. The way her face looked was unnerving; it made Bakura feel as though he was staring into two bottomless pools of water.

"This," Bakura replied, pulling the bracelet out of his pocket. "It's made of pure gold."

"No, I don't think so-" the man started.

"That's beautiful!" the girl exclaimed at the same time. She turned her wide, bright stare on the man. "Oh, get it for me, please. It's just one token, and you've already gotten so many."

The man frowned. "I don't think I can afford to lose any of my tokens right now. I've almost gotten enough to get into the finals, and it would be a pain to get one again."

"You'll just have to bet two next time," the girl reasoned. "Besides, you do win all the time. It'll be no problem for you at all!"

A small smile worked its way onto the man's face. He stared at the girl for another moment, before turning back to Bakura with an outstretched hand.

"You have a deal, then. Let me have the bracelet."

"Alright, for one token."

Then, Bakura remembered himself and hastily handed the bracelet to the man. He ran his fingers over the metal, inspecting the reflective surface. Bakura watched as it caught the streetlight, glinting at all three of them.

The man handed the girl the bracelet and worked something out of his pocket before handing it to Bakura.

"Enjoy," he said, before turning from him. "And good luck in the tournament."

Bakura doubted the man meant that, but he was engrossed in the little token sitting in the palm of his hand, its blue surface reflecting back to him as brightly as the bracelet. He breathed a sigh of relief, stuffed the token deep into his pocket, and chuckled, silently thanking Marik for being so forgetful sometimes.

When Bakura walked in the door, he noticed a pair of black shoes by the threadbare rug at the front door and a leather coat hanging from the coat rack. He followed the smell of onions and rice to the kitchen, where Marik was stirring a pot of what looked like koshari. Bakura had noticed that he always cooked it after he visited his brother and sister, almost as a reminder of the life he'd once lived with them.

"How are Rishid and Ishizu?" Bakura asked, throwing his coat on the back of a chair.

Marik shrugged, leaning down to smell the contents of the pot. "Good. Same as always. I just hung out with them for a couple of hours to catch up. I told them about how I'm getting tokens for the tournament finals."

Bakura quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, really? What did you say, exactly?"

"I wasn't too specific," Marik laughed. "I just said I'm preparing for the finals and dueling in my spare time."

"True enough," Bakura smirked. "Oh, and I have something that'll make your story more credible."

He took the token out of his pocket and set it on the table, producing a small thump. Marik turned to look. His eyes lit up at the sight of the token.

"You stole another one?"

Bakura leaned back against the kitchen chair. "Tricked it out of someone, actually. Seems like I still haven't lost my touch at impersonating Ryou."

Marik laughed suddenly as he scooped some koshari onto a plate and set it on the table, and placed a steak in front of Bakura. Momentarily, he was pleased to find that Marik hadn't just made a vegetarian dish for himself, and gave him a smile before he could help himself.

"Hey, so I'm feeling too worn out to duel tonight, so I was just gonna watch a movie," Marik suddenly said as he sat at the table. "Want to watch it after dinner?"

"What movie?" asked Bakura.

"I'm going to watch Saw IV again," said Marik.

"Saw VI is better," said Bakura. "We should watch that one."

Bakura had been watching a lot of movies on his own during the times when Marik was at work and he had nothing else to do.

"You just like Saw VI best because of all the vengeance," Marik said.

"So?"

Marik laughed. "Okay, how about we watch them both?"

Marik didn't mind. He loved all the movies in the Saw series, and he knew that Bakura did too. So they went into the living room and settled themselves on the couch to watch the movies.

After the movies were over, Marik headed off to his room to go to bed, and Bakura settled down on the couch. Even though both of them were very tired, neither of them had an easy time getting to sleep. They were both thinking about the fact that tomorrow was the day they'd be betting again.

On Saturday night, they dueled again, and the bet was the same as last week. Loser gets fucked, and it would have been an understatement to say that by the time the scores were at 1,900 life points for Marik and 1,700 life points for Bakura, it was just a little tense in the room.

"Fucking hell!" Marik shouted after he lost all of the monsters on his side of the field to Bakura's Four-Starred Ladybug of Doom, whose flip effect was to destroy all of the opponent's four-starred monsters. He had no monsters left, and no magic or trap cards out on the field.

Bakura smirked. He was so close to winning. He could feel the approaching victory in his bones, flowing through his veins, invigorating and intoxicating him like a shot of Jack Daniels. As usual, they'd had no alcohol while dueling because it would just cloud their minds, and after waiting for a whole week for this rematch of sorts- Bakura quietly writhing and itching to finally have his fingers on Marik's hips and actually be inside him- neither could afford to be drunk.

He watched Marik closely, eyeing the color in his flushed cheeks and the spark in his eyes. By the look on his face, he had no idea what to do. The duel had been neck and neck the entire time, and Bakura couldn't deny that seeing the exasperated, rosy look on Marik's face was arousing. Still, he could tell that Marik had exhausted his best cards and was at the end of his rope, while Bakura still had a few strategies left. A few more turns, and then Marik would know what it felt like to be subjugated, to be had in the same way he'd had Bakura last week.

"I end my turn," Marik said, clutching his cards so hard that his bronze knuckles had turned white.

Bakura smiled. "You didn't even play anything. Are you really getting that desperate that you don't have a single monster to put on the field? Or even a trap card?"

"Just draw your fucking card," he snapped.

Bakura couldn't help the wide smile on his face. He threw Monster Reborn on the field and raised a monster Marik had played earlier: Starshot Raptor with 1800 attack points. Its effect also allowed Bakura to select an Equip Spell card that he could use next turn, and he chose the Malevolent Nuzzler from his deck.

"I attack you for 1,800 life points," Bakura said leisurely, marking the new scores on their sheets. 100 for Marik and 1,700 for Bakura. "Your turn."

Marik drew, and Bakura watched in fidgeting anticipation as Marik's gaze flitted over his cards and he bit his lip. He glanced at the score sheet on Bakura's side of the table, frowning, and then nodded slightly.

"Alright, this can work," he said to himself, wetting his lips. He turned his gaze to Bakura. "I play the Darkfire Soldier #1 in attack mode."

Bakura laughed suddenly. "Are you an idiot? You obviously can't attack me since your monster has less attack points than mine, and if you leave it in attack mode, I'll just destroy it and you'll lose 200 life points. Which would be just enough to make you lose the game."

Marik suddenly smirked.

"You didn't let me finish."

With that, Marik threw another two cards on the field: one was Fissure, a card that allowed Marik to destroy Bakura's lowest-attack monster, the Four-Starred Ladybug of Doom, and the other was a card that Bakura had never seen before, the trap card Call of the Grave.

"You can activate this card when your opponent activates Monster Reborn," Marik read the inscription. "Negate the effect of Monster Reborn."

The realization suddenly dawned on Bakura, as his insides froze at the thought. "That means-"

"Your Ladybug of Doom is gone after I use Fissure. Your Starshot Raptor is off the field and you have no other monsters to defend your life points. I attack you for 1,700 points with my Darkfire Soldier, so yes, that means-" Marik's face was flushed and delighted and the look in his eyes was absolutely smoldering. "You lose the game."

Bakura sat still for a moment, trying to take in the abrupt brutality of Marik's last few moves. This couldn't be happening, he thought. He couldn't believe he'd lost a second time. He'd had Marik completely defenseless. His strategy was flawless until Marik had gone and-

Suddenly, Bakura grabbed the Call of the Grave card from Marik's side of the field.

"What the hell is this? I've never even seen this card before," he said, his eyes blazing.

Marik started putting away their cards. "It's a new card I added to my deck recently. I thought it would be way too specific and would barely ever come in useful, but...I guess I was proven wrong." He shot Bakura a sly smile.

"Fuck you," Bakura snapped, and stood up from the table so tersely that the chair scraped against the floor. He was so angry that he was nearly shaking.

Marik laughed. "You'll have to actually start winning our bets if you still have plans for that."

Bakura glared at him and retorted, "Let's just get this over with," before striding out of the room without a backward glance. A moment later, Marik joined him in the bedroom.

Things were a little less awkward this time, as they'd already done this once before. But the entire time Bakura was undressing, he continued to gripe and complain about how he couldn't believe he'd lost again.

Marik just suppressed a laugh as he removed his own jeans and boxers.

Bakura laid down on the bed on his stomach. That position had worked last time, and he figured there was no sense in complicating things.

Marik seemed to agree, and he wordlessly moved to straddle Bakura. This time, Bakura didn't complain when Marik squeezed some lubrication onto his fingers, getting ready to prepare him.

Marik started out the same way he had the last time, first inserting one lube-slicked finger, and then a second. For a while, he just slid his digits in and out. Then he crooked his fingers, as he had last time, and brushed against that small bump inside of Bakura.

Bakura drew in his breath sharply. Then Marik did it again. And again.

It felt strange, strange in a way that made his breath hitch, and Bakura could sense something building inside of him, something he wanted to avert for reasons that he didn't want to consider. He'd told Marik last time that moving his fingers inside him in this way was painful, and he wanted to say something, but the feeling of what Marik was doing to him was overwhelming, and Bakura barely felt able to speak.

"I-I told you before that it hurts when you do that," Bakura finally managed to say.

"But you also told me that you don't mind pain at all," said Marik. It sounded as if there was an undercurrent of laughter in Marik's voice, just barely below the surface. "That you can take it easily, since you've been through much worse pain than this. So I'm sure you don't mind."

"I thought you-" Bakura's voice broke momentarily as Marik repeated the motion- "you didn't want to hurt me."

"Maybe I changed my mind," said Marik, pausing his movement. He sounded thoughtful, but there was still that hint of mirth underneath his words. "Are you telling me that you can't handle it? That it hurts too much and you want me to stop?"

There was absolutely nothing Bakura could say against that, no way for him to tell Marik no and still preserve his pride- if he claimed that it was hurting too much for him to bear, he would seem weak and pathetic. Bakura, being unable to handle a little discomfort?

So he had no choice.

"I-I can take it," Bakura finally said.

Marik smiled, and Bakura sucked in his breath as Marik's fingers grazed against that spot inside of him again.

And then there was nothing Bakura could do but fist his hands into the sheets and try to remain silent as Marik continued.

Marik repeated the motion over and over. Every time, shock waves coursed through Bakura's body, and he told himself that the sensation was uncomfortable, unpleasant. That this definitely felt the exact opposite of good.

But he couldn't ignore the fact that his cock was, for whatever reason, getting hard- maybe just because of all the nakedness and sexual things that were occurring at the moment, which automatically reminded him of what he'd already done with Marik in the past, and what he could do to Marik in the future as soon as he won- but if Marik knew how his body was reacting right then...

The only thing worse than Marik thinking he was too weak to take a little pain would be Marik thinking he was actually enjoying this. As if he could ever enjoy being in such a submissive position with bratty little Marik dominating him. As if Marik were capable of causing reactions in his body that he couldn't control. He hated being in such a vulnerable position, and he only allowed it so that he would eventually have the chance to subjugate Marik and control him completely. Now that thought was a turn-on. But this? All the things he had to put up with because he'd lost their card game? He merely tolerated these things as a means to an end. Marik believing he liked any of this would be- it didn't even bear thinking about. But if he let Marik continue doing that ungodly thing with his fingers, then-

But he didn't have to let him continue, of course. There was something he could say, and he would have thought of it before if these strange, unfamiliar sensations weren't so incredibly distracting. He took a moment to compose himself, to make sure his voice would sound relatively normal when he spoke.

"Alright, that's enough," Bakura said through gritted teeth. "What ever happened to getting this over with as quickly as possible?"

"Of course, of course," said Marik, immediately withdrawing his fingers. "Whatever you say."

Marik began coating himself in lubrication, and the anticipation of Marik's cock being inside of him definitely didn't make Bakura feel anything but apathy- that, and relief that Marik had finally stopped what he'd been doing with his fingers. And maybe he also felt a little apprehension about whether getting fucked would feel different this time, but only because he wondered if it would be uncomfortable- though he could certainly handle it, he didn't particularly relish discomfort.

And then Marik was sliding into Bakura. As before, he started out slowly, moving in and out at an easy pace.

Bakura relaxed. It didn't feel the way his fingers had, and it wasn't uncomfortable at all. The angle of Marik's cock was totally different than the angle of his fingers had been, and Marik's movements were no longer sending those weird jolts through his body. Bakura was still hard, though, and he was only thankful that he was lying on his stomach, a position that made it impossible for Marik to see his erection.

As Marik began to speed up, pounding harder and faster, rocking Bakura's body, Bakura realized the downside of his position. With every thrust, Bakura's body was shoved against the bed, creating a terrible pleasurable feeling against his cock as it slid up and down the sheets. He certainly couldn't blame himself for the fact that it felt good to have his erection rubbed against something, but he didn't want that to happen while Marik was fucking him. Why the hell did Marik have to have some kind of girly sheets that were all smooth and slippery, instead of normal cotton ones?

As Marik continued to move in and out, it took all of Bakura's willpower not to move his own hips in rhythm with Marik in an attempt to grind against the bed and create more pressure on his erection. The feeling of Marik filling him when he was so hard and the sensations against his cock were so good was- it was really awful, and his desire to push back had nothing to do with wanting Marik deeper inside. But if he moved, it would seem like he was urging Marik deeper, as if he was actually participating in this, and so he stayed still, his muscles quivering with the effort of it.

But as Marik's thrusts became even more forceful, Bakura's body was shoved harder against the bed anyway, increasing the friction against his erection, and Bakura realized with dismay that, if this kept up much longer, he might actually climax. And he did not want to come with Marik inside of him. That would just be wrong in every way.

Besides, an erection, he could hide, but if he actually came, the evidence would be obvious the moment he got up.

He could just imagine the smug look on Marik's face. And Marik would never, ever let him hear the end of it.

He hoped Marik would be done soon, but he continued, jarring Bakura's body, Marik fucking him so hard that it was impossible for Bakura to keep his body from being driven into the mattress. It seemed like it was lasting longer than it had the previous time, as if Marik were holding himself back from finishing, and Bakura dug his nails into the pillow and tried desperately not to come. He was so close...

Finally, he heard Marik sigh in satisfaction, and felt warm liquid rush into him. Marik paused for only a second, and then pulled out and rolled off of him.

Bakura immediately slid off the bed, his back to Marik. He quickly put on his jeans and shirt, taking note that his T-shirt was long enough to hide any bulge that might be visible through his pants.

Bakura winced in pain. He'd been seconds away from orgasm. His cock ached, and his balls felt like they were about to burst.

He went to leave the room, but when he looked around, he saw that Marik was already dressed as well. Marik jumped off the bed and stood next to Bakura.

"I think that went pretty well," Marik said cheerfully. "Better than last time. How about you?"

"I survived it," Bakura grumbled, turning away from Marik.

"Just 'survived it'? That's all?" asked Marik, raising his eyebrows.

Unexpectedly, Marik placed a hand on Bakura's hip and started to reach around.

As much as Bakura's cock actually craved Marik's touch right then, there was absolutely no way in hell Bakura was going to let Marik know that he was hard. He grabbed Marik's hand forcefully, stilling his motion.

"I fulfilled my part of our bet," Bakura said, putting as much spite into his voice as he could. "Now it's done. So don't touch me."

Marik pulled his hand away. "Alright, alright. Sorry."

Bakura was about to walk away again when Marik called him back.

"It's still early. We should watch a movie."

"Um..." started Bakura.

"You keep trying to run out of here like you've got a pressing appointment or something. What are you doing, rushing out of here to go jack off?"

Marik's voice was somewhere between sarcastic and teasing, and Bakura managed to keep the look of shock off of his face. That had, in fact, been exactly what he was about to do- he'd been brought to the very edge of orgasm, and he still badly needed release.

"Of course not!" Bakura snapped. "I just..."

But he couldn't come up with anything to say. He didn't think there was much blood going to his brain at the moment.

At least that meant he probably wasn't blushing in his embarrassment at Marik's question.

"Well, I'm going out to the living room to watch a movie," said Marik. "So you might as well come along."

Bakura snarled. He'd been hoping Marik would just stay in his bedroom, as he had last time, so that Bakura could be alone in the living room. Now, after Marik's comment about masturbation, he couldn't even run off to the bathroom without it looking suspicious. Damn Marik. Damn that stupid boy.

So Bakura begrudgingly followed Marik out to the living room and sat at the end of the couch, putting as much distance between himself and Marik as possible. Marik chose the movie, but Bakura had no idea what it was. All he remembered was spending a torturous hour and a half squirming and fidgeting and suffering from the worst case of blue balls he'd ever had in his existence.