Strands of Marik's hair tickled Bakura's alabaster thighs. He knelt on hands and knees over Bakura, kissing along the lower curve of Bakura's stomach as Bakura kissed up the back of Marik's bronzed thighs. A taijitu of white ice and gold fire, of pale marble and polished brass, Bakura and Marik teased each other, waiting to see who'd give in first.
Bakura's fingers caressed the sensitive skin near Marik's entrance. Marik broke, closing his eyes and moaning as he took Bakura's length in his mouth, allowing the last resonances of his moan to vibrate his lips against Bakura's erection.
Bakura called out when he felt Marik's mouth, returning the favor by circling his tongue around Marik's asshole.
With his forearm propped against Bakura's body for support, Marik used his left hand to hold Bakura's base. Meanwhile, Marik's right hand stroked his own erection as he and Bakura continued to use their mouths to please each other.
They knew each other.
It wasn't their first time, or even their 500th time, and there were certain benefits of a consistent, committed relationship. Marik knew Bakura so well that he timed his own strokes in such a way that they climaxed at the same time.