***after Marik's pick, Bakura seems a little boring.***
Marik almost felt sorry for the boy – he was roughly their age, mid twenties, but Marik thought of him as a boy because of the candid expression he wore. A thick mess of black curls crowned his head and he had hazel eyes and wash board abs. They'd picked him up at the club earlier that night, and now he laid bare on the hotel bed, waiting for them.
Marik stalked him from the left, Bakura from the right. They looked like two hungry lions, one gold, the other ivory. This had been Bakura's choice, and he'd played maid so well for Marik, that Marik had no choice but to go at this with gusto.
They had three cameras – each at a different angle so they could edit later. The cameras were both of their idea, not part of the original fantasy, but hey, why not? They were probably only going to ever do this once, might as well have a memento.
Bakura's and Marik's eyes caught and they smirked. It felt like when they plotted in Battle City, only more fun. No enemies, no battles, just pillows, and a soft mattress, and laughter.
The boy giggled as they descended on him, meeting their mouths with his own. He mewled pretty little noises when Marik started grazing his nails across the boy's soft, brown skin.
When it was over, they left the hotel room with the third male still passed out in bed from a blend of exhaustion and satisfaction. He wore a content smile on his face, like a male, Egyptian rendition of Flaming June.