Ah, when the world ends
We'll be burning one
When the world ends, yeah,
We'll be sweet makin' love
Oh, you know when the world ends
I'm going to take you aside and say
Let's watch it fade away, fade away
Ah, the world's done
Ours just begun
It's done
Ours just begun

~Dave Mathews Band, "When the World Ends"

He was outside. The young version of Marik ran with arms stretched wide. Ishizu called after him to slow down and stay close so they didn't get separated when they reached the nearest village. They had two hours. Marik wanted to obey her, but the thrill in his chest demanded that he stampede forward like a wild, golden colt. Only two hours. The hot sun seared his skin, beading sweat on his face. A breeze kissed passed him, sending an excited shiver down Marik's spine as the air cooled his skin. Better than the light, the heat, the wind, or the giddy expanse of openness all around him, were the scents of the surface. The air in the tomb, stilted and dead, suffocated Marik. Every day he died, drowning in the stillness known only in the homes of the dead, but above ground everything smelt new - like resurrection from the grave.

They reached the village and the images and sounds within the crowd overwhelmed Marik. He skirted from one stall to the next, trying to absorb everything he saw, heard, and felt. He wanted to dissolve into the crowd, become a part of the life thrumming around him, but in the back of his mind Marik new he'd have to bury himself back under the earth, and the knowledge left an acidic taste in his throat even as he ran free through the streets.

His favorite moment was discovering a tattered magazine with a picture of a motorcycle. He wanted to experience the rush of the world blear past him as he rode one. After abandoning the tomb with Rishid and founding the Ghouls, Marik experienced various modes of transportation; ships, jets, limos, but those vehicles locked you into a small, steal cage. With a motorcycle, the air clung to your body as miles sped past as if they were but daydreams in the back of your mind.

A man stood in the market; he stared at Marik and Ishizu. Marik froze, dread solidifying in the bed of his stomach.

The man continued to stare at Marik and then Ishizu. "Tomb-guardians, from now on your fate will be a tragedy of blood that will split your bloodline apart . . . this is all the will of the Pharaoh."

Marik tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. He blinked and the stranger wearing items, similar to the ones his family protected, disappeared. "Sister, where did that man go?" Marik mentioned the stranger's items to his sister and she scolded him.

"We're going home right now, Marik."

"I know." Marik had to jog to keep up with his older sister. "But can I at least keep this picture?" He held up the magazine.

Ishizu didn't answer; her eyes set in the direction of the tomb. As she opened the trap door that would bury them back underground with the dead, Marik sat on a rock, clutching the image of the motorcycle in his hands. He pretended he didn't have to be a tomb-guardian, didn't have to go underground (never again, never again, never again). He was going to drive away, drive away on a motorcycle, his siblings could go with him. They'd be happy.

"Marik!"

"I know." Marik jumped off of the rock and followed his sister back underground. Marik's memory grew black as they ran down the stone steps.

Ryou caressed Marik's face as he slept. By the twisted expression, Ryou knew Marik suffered from another night terror, but it seemed mild compared to his others so Ryou let him sleep. When Marik did open his eyes, Ryou looked down and smiled. "Good morning."

"Hey," Marik said, his voice thick.

Ryou opened his mouth to ask Marik if he was all right, but realized the stupidity in the question and instead held up a picture frame – the back facing Marik so he couldn't see the picture inside. "He got up really early this morning and finished it. I found a frame; it's too good to leave in a sketchbook."

Marik stared at the frame. "Why are you showing it to me?"

Ryou giggled. "He's nervous. Isn't that adorable?"

I am not nervous or adorable, shut your fucking face before I shove your head in a toilet.

"Especially when he's mad," Ryou added, "he's so cute when he's pissed off that I want to cuddle him, and braid his hair, and read him love poetry."

Ryou felt his body jerk as Bakura threatened to take control. It tickled and Ryou laughed. "Okay, okay. I'll stop teasing you." He glanced up and noticed Marik's wide smile which made any flack he might catch from Bakura worth it.

"So? The picture?"

Ryou passed it face-down to Marik. Marik flipped the drawing right side up so he could admire the picture. One hand reached up to cover his mouth as he stared at the artwork in the frame. He looked up at Ryou. "It's . . . me?"

"Yes." Ryou nodded. "That's how you looked – that first day at the park."

Marik stared at the drawing, tracing the yellow flames of hair spilling from the ponytail. That's how Bakura drew Marik, like fire – skin like molten copper, hair like yellow flames, shirt like dark maroon embers. The colors were more fierce and more beautiful than the very fires of Ra that destroyed them during Battle City.

Marik clutched the picture to his chest, just as he'd once clutched a dirty magazine because of a picture of a motorcycle. With his free hand, Marik reached to the back of Ryou's head and pulled him closer, kissing him. "Bakura," Marik said in between kissing, "get out here so I can say thank you."

"He won't do it," Ryou said.

Marik continued to kiss Ryou, knowing both of them felt his lips and tongue and breath. "Bakura, I said get out here."

"I'll help." Ryou mentally pushed Bakura to the surface level of their mind, filling the backspace with his own consciousness.

"Dammit, Ryou," Bakura cursed, his words muffled by Marik's mouth.

"Quit being a chicken," Marik said.

"I just don't want to deal with any sappy bullshit."

"Thank you. I like the picture."

Bakura growled in response.

"Can't handle compliments very well, can you?"

"I told you. I don't want to deal with the mushy gratitude crap."

"Can I hang it up in our room?"

Bakura toyed with Marik's hair; the expression on his face was soft although his tone held a sardonic quality to it. "You would be the type to want to stare at yourself from bed. Next you'll want mirrors."

Marik grinned. "I wouldn't mind them."

I wouldn't mind them either, Ryou added.

Oh why does that not surprise me.

Out loud he said, "I should have never mentioned it. I think they just got voted into the bedroom."

A wicked idea flashed through Ryou's mind. The excitement of it made Ryou snatch his body back on reflex so he could speak to Marik directly. "Hey Marik, want to go shopping after breakfast?"

Marik nodded. "I wanted to buy some new sheets anyway. Let's get ready."

"And the park's on the way home. We could stop there and eat lunch."

"Ryou, I think out of the three of us, you're the better one at scheming."

"Never trust the quiet, shy ones."

They spent the morning shopping, the afternoon wasting time outside, and the evening working on Monster World. When they went to bed, Ryou smoothed his hands over the new lavender sheets. "You like flower colors because they remind you of being outside, right?"

Marik fussed with his picture, guaranteeing that it was straight on the wall. He glanced back and watched Ryou before nodding his head in reply. Satisfied that the picture hung straight, Marik walked to the bed and dropped down beside Ryou.

Ryou reached his fingers out and brushed them over Marik like he did that first afternoon, only this time Marik was awake and Ryou didn't have to worry about getting caught touching him. As Ryou twirled his fingers around Marik's earring, Marik grinned and asked, "so, when it's you and Bakura, who—" He finished the sentence with a crude gesture, sticking his finger in and out of a circle made by his other hand.

Bakura laughed, but Ryou felt himself blush. "Why do you always ask me the embarrassing questions?"

"Because you react to them."

"We only did it that way the one time."

"Well." Marik's smirk refused to leave his face. "That one time, who was on top?"

Ryou played with Marik's hair so he could stare at it instead of at Marik. "Me."

Marik snorted. "I thought as much."

Ryou closed his eyes, remembering the evening they fought Zorc. "It was just the rush of battle, and we won, and Diabound was wrapped all around him, and I looked at his face – his real face; he's quite dark and handsome – and, I just acted on instinct."

"Do you want to swap tonight?"

Ryou opened his eyes to stare at Marik. "I'm sorry, what? I don't think I caught what you said?"

Marik turned his head to the side, uncharacteristically bashful. "Um, I'm curious to see how it feels the other way."

Ryou tried to swallow the heartbeats pulling up from his throat. "Oh," he managed to say. He leaned forward, undressing Marik and kissing his chest while working his way down. He didn't stop at Marik's pelvic area, he kept going lower, licking Marik's thighs and kissing his calves. When he reached Marik's feet, he started rubbing the pad of Marik's right foot, then his left. He'd surprise Marik's skin with soft kisses as he continued the massage.

Marik sighed. "You shouldn't spoil me like this. I'll become demanding."

"You're already demanding," Ryou whispered. "So I'll do whatever I want."

"You two always do."

Ryou smiled. "He and I are really alike in that respect, aren't we?"

Marik snorted. Ryou took the opportunity to swallow Marik's big toe and suck on the digit, twirling his tongue.

Marik stared wide eyed at the ceiling. "Oh wow, don't stop that."

Marik's response incited a shiver down Ryou's spine. He moved to Marik's other toes, Bakura whispering suggestions in his mind as they both decided what to do next. Ryou switched feet; his fingers trailed up Marik's leg. He flicked his tongue against the arches of Marik's feet and nibbled at his ankle above the heel. Traveling back up Marik's leg, Ryou paused, getting Marik to sigh as he licked the sensitive skin under his knee. He moved up Marik's thigh and gave his phallus a single, broad lick before dropping down to his balls. Ryou pulled them into his mouth, rolling one and then the other with his tongue.

Marik's sighs changed to moans.

Ryou stuck his tongue inside Marik, the skin soft and delicate. He pushed in and out, withdrawing and twirling around Marik's asshole, and then stretched his tongue out as far as it could reach into Marik's body. Saliva dripped down Ryou's chin, but he refused to stop, encouraged by Marik's moans. When Marik's cries grew loud and needful, Ryou reached for the lube. He also found a plug under the mattress. The smooth plug glided into Marik's body without effort. He sucked on Marik's tip as he prepared him with the plug.

"I-I can't last like this," Marik whispered.

Ryou stopped stimulating Marik with his mouth. He pulled the plug away and squeezed more lubrication from the bottle. He lined himself up with Marik's opening, but Marik clenched his body on reflex. Ryou petted Marik stomach. "Relax."

"I am relaxed," Marik snapped.

Ryou tried again. He managed to press inside but didn't like the expression on Marik's face. Ryou grabbed Marik by the waist and pulled him up; at the same time, Ryou laid back so that Marik straddled him.

"What are you doing?" Marik held onto Ryou's shoulders for balance.

"Let's do it like this. That way you can still be in charge."

Marik looked flustered. He stared at his portrait on the wall and the mirror they'd hung up that afternoon. "I was trying not to be in charge for once."

"You know, in a way, you're more vulnerable like this. You get to control the movements, but I'll be able to see everything you do." Ryou smiled. "Every reaction you have."

Marik rolled his eyes, shoving a pillow over Ryou's face. Ryou removed the pillow in time to see as well as feel Marik slide down fully onto his erection. Marik grunted and Ryou gasped. Marik looked down at Ryou's face and smiled. "I haven't even started yet and you're already blushing."

Ryou didn't answer; he felt the heat on his face and knew Marik spoke the truth.

Marik rested his hands on Ryou's chest and started lifting his hips, finding a slow rhythm. "Tell me again?" Marik asked, "who's more vulnerable in this position? Who's reactions are laid bare to see?"

Ryou had that distinct my plan has backfired feeling in his chest, but he couldn't pay it much mind because the sensation of Marik wrapped tight around him. His thoughts turned to cotton candy, everything bright and sweet and airy.

Have him look at his own face in the damned mirror.

Ryou smiled. Marik snorted at the expression. "What did he say?"

"He said look in the mirror."

Marik did. His own flushed expression stared back at him; he seemed somewhat shocked by the image, as if he never imagined his arousal so physically marked on his face. He stuck his chin out, defiant. "Of course I look flushed. I'm doing all the work."

Ryou took the remark as a challenge, jerking his hips up into Marik's body. Marik ah'ed, closing his eyes as Ryou's thrust further excited his nervous system. Ryou lowered his body to the mattress and then thrust again. The rosy color on Marik's cheekbones deepened to a dusty mauve. His lips also darkened. Ryou grabbed Marik's hips and continued to push up, Marik's ass still bouncing up and down between Ryou's slow, hard movements. Their separate speeds made movement for both of them a little awkward, but Marik steadied himself by bracing one hand on Ryou's pale chest. He used his other hand to stroke himself.

"Marik," Ryou groaned. Each time he pushed up he felt Marik's body tighten around him. Bakura shouting from pleasure in the back of his mind heightened Ryou's arousal.

Marik mumbled something inaudible as he ejaculated. After Marik finished, Ryou flipped their bodies again so that he was back on top. This time, Marik's body was relaxed from his orgasm. As Ryou rocked back and forth, Marik panted and moaned, his hair a disheveled mess against the pillow as his face glowed from sweating. Ryou trembled as he poured himself out and into Marik's body. Spent, he pulled out and lowered himself carefully on Marik's chest. They looked at each other for a moment – at their damp, flushed faces and their wide eyes – and then entangled themselves together. Limbs and fingers and mouths knotting around one another until they couldn't distinguish one from the other. Ryou kept moaning into Marik's mouth and the more noise he made the harder Marik's fingers dug into his hair and shoulders.

After some time, their touches softened. They caressed one another as if made of glass. Ryou realized he was whispering. He and Bakura both whispered to Marik. Sweet, beautiful words they'd never say in daylight, but in their room with the ambient lamp light softening the edge of everything they saw, they couldn't help but whisper, and Marik whispered back to them.

Bakura sat on the bed in Ryou's soul room; they'd fallen asleep whispering in Marik's ear. They both faced each other, looking at one another but not saying anything. Bakura broke the silence. "I want to reclaim my ba."

Ryou nodded. "That was always the plan."

"Are you ready?"

"Of course, but it won't be as easy this time, will it?"

Bakura shook his head. "No. We caught him off guard the first time. Now he's waiting and very bitter from last time."

"Yes. I can feel it, too. There'll be more than one battle this time."

"This is going to be a game of wills," Bakura said, "Us against him. Fighting, retreating, fighting, every night, night after night. Us or him. The first one to acquiesce fails . . . do you understand the danger in that?"

"Of course I do, but it's worth it."

"Is it? Ryou, if his will is stronger he'll take over your body and then all your stupid friends will be dead, and Marik will be dead, and we'll be worse than dead."

Ryou narrowed his gaze. His dark eyes trained hard at Bakura. "Then we can't fail. It's that simple."

"It's that simple now, but after days without proper rest? You can't imagine that weariness."

Ryou took Bakura's hands into his own. "And what's the alternative? To wait for him to attack? Shouldn't Yugi have already asked me for the Ring? He has all the god cards. He just needs the Items to regain the Pharaoh's memories, but he's stalling. He knows that returning the Items together will somehow end everything and he doesn't want to say goodbye to his Other Self. How long until Zorc grows restless and tries to force Yugi's hand? How long before we're fighting the same battle only on the defensive? I'd rather attack now."

Bakura grinned. "Then let's attack now."

***AN: *Insert proper Author's Note here* I can never think of anything to say . . . hi.***