Marik sat tied to a chair thinking how odd it was that certain situations seemed horrific during any other circumstances, but when your lover did them – they were thrilling. He supposed that was why they were thrilling. It was the kind of control you wanted to horde for yourself, but when that other person was so utterly a part of you, they could do anything and you could trust them to make it good.
Music played in the room; a lamp kept the light ambient, but there was enough of it to ward off the anxiety attacks Marik still struggled with when he had to be in a dark room.
Bakura walked out, wearing only his underwear. The muscles in his thighs and calves rippled as he started to do a teasing dance. Marik smirked, drinking in the sight. Bakura was a drama queen when he complained about his figure. Even with the inch of belly fat - for it really was only an inch - his body was lithe, and years of dancing had toned his legs and allowed his abs to roll and circle in the most seductive of ways.
Marik strained against his bindings, wanting to grab Bakura, wanting to bend him over the chair and bury himself inside Bakura's body, but the thief knew how to tie a knot. The more Marik struggled, the tighter the bindings dug into his wrists, but it was worth the struggle all the same.
Bakura hovered over Marik's lap, hair draped over his shoulders in a mess of wisps and half-curls. He spun around and teased Marik's crotch with light swivels of his ass. The long, flowing streamers of white hair tickled Marik's chest, but Marik didn't complain because he was too busy leaning closer and inhaling the scent of Bakura's hair.
"Bakura," Marik growled Bakura's name, his tone gruff and needful.
"Soon," Bakura whispered back, sitting on Marik's lap in order to increase the friction between them.
Bakura danced until Marik couldn't stop bucking his hips against Bakura's back side, growling curses and erotic threats into Bakura's ear. Then and only then did Bakura – already flushed and breathing heavily from the lap dance – slip out of the scrap of cloth he wore and sit in Marik's lap.