Marik leaned against the wall holding his hair above his neck. "Sometimes I hate living in a desert."
Bakura snorted. "At least we have electricity now. Neither one of us did as children."
"True, but even with the air on it's hot as fuck today."
"It's too hot to even fuck today."
"Let's move to Sweden."
Bakura huffed a single laugh out of his mouth as he walked to the kitchen and rummaged through the icebox. "Believe me, I'd love to, but we both know you're not going to move more than 30 minutes away from Ishizu and Bastet."
Marik groaned. "Yeah . . ."
He jumped when Bakura slipped an ice-cube down his back. Marik squirmed until the offending chunk of ice dropped to the carpet. "The fuck, Bakura?"
"What? You were hot." Bakura popped a different chunk of ice in his mouth. He had a cup full of ice cubes in his hands and a wicked smirk on his face.
"You bastard." Marik lunged for Bakura.
They wrestled a bit, and Bakura managed to slip another ice-cube down Marik's shirt – this time the front – before Marik wrenched a cube out of Bakura's cup. He pinned Bakura to the floor and forced the ice-cube into Bakura's pants.
"Ah! Ahh! Dammit!" Bakura laughed and screamed as he bucked and wiggled to move the ice, but Marik had his hand pressed over Bakura's crotch to keep the ice where he wanted it.
Turned out, it wasn't too hot for sex after all.