"Jagger, there's a meeting in five minutes. Finish up what you're doing. Alright?" George advised the paralegal, poking his head in his office.

"Alright," he answered already bored out of his mind. He needed more coffee first, but there was no time to run to the shop.

He locked his computer, slipping his mobile in his pocket and walked towards the break room where subpar caffeine awaited him. Despite its tar-like taste, sweetening it would only make it more sickening. It would have to do.

With great concentration as the liquid neared the edge of his cup, he tried to empty the pot until the leftover coffee aligned with the printed lines on its side. Otherwise, it would bother him.

"I love Mondays, don't you?" Natalie sarcastically spoke behind him. He jolted at the intrusion, spilling some coffee in the process.

"I didn't mean to scare you," she quickly added.

"Do you know where they get this shit?" he asked her, reaching for some paper towel to clean up his mess.

"I don't deal with that. You'd have to speak to the office administrator, whoever they are," she shrugged. She was looking at the floor, fiddling with the scarf around her neck. She almost looked...guilty.

"You're back with him, aren't you?" he asked already knowing the answer.

"No, I'm not. I...might have slept with him a little," she reluctantly admitted.

"Do you mean a little or a lot? Because I don't think you can sleep with someone a little."

"I know. I know. It was a really dumb decision. He was just at our mutual friend's party and I was there and things happened," she rambled off in an attempt to excuse her behaviour.

"Yes, things can...happen," he replied rather cryptically. It reminded him a little too much of his own misadventures.

"That's why I need to ask you a favour."

"Which is?" he sounded suspicious.

"Well, I need you to come to the pub with me this weekend. Same friends will be there, including Declan. You can stop me from making rash decisions."

"I'm not very good at stopping myself to be quite honest."

"Of course, no one can stop themselves, but they can stop others."

"Alright, I'll go," he caved.

"Thanks! I owe you!" She hopped over to him, happier than she was a minute ago, and gave him a quick appreciative hug.

He stiffened at the contact, taken off guard, before patting her back.

"You do because I hate your friends."

"They're better than your friends," she teased.

"Hardly."

[SEX GOD:

I'm waiting outside.]

Who the fuck is this?

It may have been Bakura's most confusing lift ride of his life. Until it clicked.

[REPLY:

Marik stop changing things in my phone!]

[SEND]

[SEX GOD:

Took you long enough to notice.]

The white haired man groaned, and promptly changed the contact name to simply Marik.

The boy in question was slouched on the same bench Bakura had found him on in the previous week. He looked positively bored. "A red tie today? So daring, Bakura," the blond commented.

Bakura merely rolled his eyes and routinely lit up. "I see you have an affinity for purple," he observed, eyes flicking over the light grey jeans and aubergine cardigan that suited the student quite well.

"Always perceptive, Jagger."

By now, he had gotten used to the jabs from Marik. His usual reaction of glares had turned into half-hearted pouts.

The blond stood. He felt too close to the paralegal, or did he always stand at this distance and Bakura never noticed before?

The Egyptian slung his bag over his shoulder, the mischievous smirk ever present on his lips. "I was hoping you would help me out with something, and I'd treat you for it, naturally. It won't take long I swear."

He exhaled some smoke. "What is it?"

"Research Methodologies. You're good at that right? I mean, it's kind of a part of your job. Could you look over my plan? I have to hand it in tomorrow."

"I just need to look over it?"

The blond nodded.

"Fine, I'll do it."

Marik lay in his bed, reading a textbook.

Bakura sat at his desk. He had somehow been cajoled into editing a lengthy essay, too. Fuck my life. Behind him, he could hear rustling and what distinctly sounded like a bag of crisps being ripped open. It was followed by the muted crunching of someone eating said crisps.

"Could you not do that?" he spoke up, annoyed.

"What?"

"It's distracting."

He heard more noise behind him, until he felt a hand slowly drift down the back of his hair. He tensed at the touch, forcing himself to relax. "Stop it," he muttered.

"Am I distracting you?" the blond asked as he placed both hands on Bakura's shoulders.

"Yes."

"Well, that's a shame, isn't it?" Marik sounded too amused.

"I'm starting to think you like Gemma catching you do weird things."

"What makes you say that?"

"Your door is open and she's right there."

"THANK YOU," the dark haired woman agreed with Bakura. Her seat on the sofa was within eyesight of Marik's room.

The blond frowned in irritation, immediately shutting his door. "Now, where was I?" he said, his confidence slightly unnerving Bakura. Was he serious?

As much as he hated himself for it, a brief thought of Marik's apparently histrionic tendencies came to mind. Just as Marik predicted he would start to doubt. He didn't have much time to think as Marik returned to his previous position. Except this time, the younger man was leaning his head on his shoulder and arms were wrapped around his chest.

"Was this your idea of treating me?" he ventured, trying to sound as neutral as possible.

"No, I was going to buy you something. This is simply for fun," the student replied. His hands moved to further loosen Bakura's tie, slipping it off completely.

"You said not to get involved." He tried to remain focused, the logical one questioning conflicting statements.

Marik started to work on unbuttoning his dress shirt. "This isn't involved."

"Do you want me to finish editing your essay or not?"

This was bad. He fully knew meeting up with Marik would end this way, no matter how much he denied it deep down. He knew this was playing with fire. This wasn't the first time he'd gotten himself into these types of situations. And yet, he couldn't stop himself. He craved the thrill and validation.

"I want you to do other things first," the blond whispered, barely audible, before pressing his lips to Bakura's neck.

"I feel taken advantage of," Bakura feigned hurt, suppressing the shiver that threatened to run up his spine from that wonderful sensation. Fuck. Why am I like this?

The blond laughed darkly against his neck, slipping out the last button. "I've been thinking about you since you were last here." Me, too. Fuck. No!

"Oh yeah?" he replied in a hiss. Fingernails grazed his chest as Marik moved his hand lazily.

"Mhmm," the student hummed. "I thought about how desperate you seemed, and how much I liked the way you kissed me." He lifted a hand, index delicately running along Bakura's bottom lip. The man before him was entirely transfixed.

"Tell me, Bakura. Tell me how badly you want me. What would you do to me?" Marik spoke seductively, cupping Bakura's cheek and tilting his head to face him.

The white haired man could feel his blood growing hot as anticipation began to pool in his core.

"I want to cum on your face," he answered frankly. God fucking dammit. He never learned.

He wanted to close the gap between them, but he was curious to see where Marik was going with this, and if he would initiate.

"That's rather dirty for someone neat like you," the blond replied, unperturbed.

"You said so yourself, your bed represents the state of your mind, and mine's a complete mess."

Mentally, he kicked himself. His replies were effortless; it was too easy for him to get what he wanted. Knowing it was wrong always spurred him on, wanting more. Typical.

Marik leaned in closer, whispering into his ear, "You were listening, like a good boy."

"It's so very hard to be a good boy when you're such a cocktease." Just enjoy it. You're never changing. You'll grow bored of him eventually. Hopefully.

"Oh, I bet a lot of things are hard for you." Marik emphasized his point by very bluntly slipping his hand down the front of Bakura's pants. "Try not to cum yet, my face is too far."

"Then come closer."

Marik smirked at those words. "That's what you said the first time."

Finally, the blond leaned into him, kissing him sensually, tongue slipping out to caress his bottom lip, hand still on Bakura's bulge.

Bakura responded by shamelessly moaning into the kiss, no longer caring for self-restraint. Too easy.

Marik's hands began to wander away from where Bakura wanted them most. Quickly, the paralegal caught his wrist, and held his hand in place, firmly pressing it against his growing erection.

Marik broke the kiss. "Tsk tsk. Good boys don't do that. I think I'll have to bind your hands." Despite his words, Marik slowly began to rub him, encouraging more wanton behaviour from Bakura.

"I swear to god, Marik, if you don't start touching me properly, I will do it myself," the older man threatened.

"So needy, Bakura," the blond teased. "Now get up."

Obediently, he stood. Marik grabbed his wrists, pulling them behind his back where the blond was making good use of his forgotten tie, tightening the knot for good measure.

"I'm surprised by how submissive you are," the devious Egyptian admitted upon finishing his work, mouth grazing the paralegal's earlobe as he spoke. Because you want it.

Bakura had to bite down on his lip, stifling any noises that threatened to escape. Hands slid down his back and encircled his waist, pulling him against Marik. His bound hands, unable to do anything in their current state, were merely caught between his lower back and Marik's torso.

"I'm getting what I want, aren't I?" he replied, not caring for what it implied. Too easy for him.

"I never pegged you as a whore." The student languidly licked a suggestive line up his neck causing the man's breath to hitch. "I love when you make those noises."

"I'll make plenty more if you would just touch me!" He hated making those noises, but it came naturally in his seduction of Marik. A means to an end.

"Impatient. Maybe I want to blindfold you, too. Would you like that?"

The question hung in the air as Marik had already grasped Bakura's chin, turning his head to access his mouth.

Passionately, the older man kissed him back, sucking on his bottom lip. He was desperate to make the most of it, alternating between light bites and hard licks, tongues slipped as lips moved against each other sensually.

Gently, Marik pushed him away; an embarrassing whimper left the paralegal's parted lips.

"Don't move," the blond warned.

Bakura watched enthralled as Marik searched through his closet. Realising the Egyptian stayed true to his words, he was left hoping Marik would hurry up. His pants were starting to feel terribly tight; he needed relief. He'd gotten this far!

Automatically, his eyes fell shut when Marik approached him. Seconds later, he felt a cotton scarf wrapping around his head, plunging him into darkness. All that was left were sounds and heightened sensation. The faintest trace of Marik's cologne reached his nose. It was intoxicating.

Helpless, he let himself be guided by Marik, his back hitting the mattress. Marik's mouth was on his again, kissing him harshly.

He could only imagine the look on Marik's face, an imposing figure looming over him. The younger man's eyes probably held coldness, despite his satisfied expression. There was something evil in the way he seduced.

Bakura moaned when he felt Marik straddling him, pressure on his straining cock.

"Marik, please," he gasped, the words themselves were barely audible. Reflexively, he writhed beneath the body, craving friction. Anything.

The blond responded by biting down on his lip, tugging hard before releasing him.

He could feel hands wrap around his throat, never squeezing, but the threat remained there. The thumb caressing his jugular reminded him of this.

"Please what?" he heard Marik speak. A kiss was placed on his jaw, feather-light in softness. This was horrible. Why did he like it?

"Please make me cum," he nearly whined, vulnerable to the domineering man above him.

The hands around his neck slowly slid down his chest, fingertips grazing his nipples in the process. He felt Marik move, no longer sitting on his pelvis.

The distinct sound of a zipper cut through the air as he felt the student pulling at his pants. The thrill of anticipation coursed through his veins, never quite knowing what to expect until it happened. This is what he wanted.

Bakura felt wetness on his collarbone, the sensation only made worse when Marik began to suck. It almost distracted him from the fact that he was this close to getting his hand job. "Marik," he groaned in a feeble attempt to get his attention back to where he wanted it most, aching.

A hand glided up his right side, caressing his skin. The other reached into his boxers, grasping him. "Fuck," he sighed, relieved to finally be getting somewhere.

"You can't cum until I say so," the blond warned him, lips ghosting against skin. The saliva on his abandoned collarbone chilled.

"Take off my blindfold," he demanded.

"Why should I?" Marik laughed seductively as his hand continued to stroke him, thumb gliding over his dripping head, slickening the rest of his flesh.

"I want to see you," he answered, unable to suppress a groan.

"You won't be ejaculating on my face today," Marik replied before finding another sensitive spot on his neck with his tongue.

"I still want to fucking see you!" He would have been more upset over that taunt if it weren't for fingers squeezing around his hard on. "Fuck," he hissed.

"So desperate, Bakura," Marik continued to tease as his free hand pushed up the scarf. You have no idea…

Bakura opened his eyes, the light blinding him momentarily. Finally able to see Marik, he saw that look on his face, the one from the other night, like he wanted to consume him. Own him.

"You're so fucking hot," he stated. He wanted so badly to climax and be used by the student, something he never thought would have appealed to him. It was usually the other way around.

"Good word choice." The blond leaned down to kiss him again, their lips swollen and red at this point in their carnal activities.

His arms felt sore, as well as his lower back. By habit, he pulled at his restraints, wanting to cling to the Egyptian.

He felt his end nearing as Marik continued to jerk him off with a firm grip.

"Can I?" he whispered hotly. I can't believe I'm playing along with his demands.

"Soon," the blond answered before roughly pushing his tongue against his.

The student's free hand returned to roaming his body before settling on his hip, fingers pressing tightly into his skin, scraping his bone.

He wasn't going to last much longer, he could feel the strain as he desperately tried to hold back. Another pathetic whimper slipped past his lips.

"Now," Marik gave the command, his approval.

Roughly, he bit down on the student's bottom lip, groaning deeply as he was finally able, allowed, to release. I hate myself.

Marik didn't seem to mind the pain. If anything, he appeared to be relishing in the reaction, giving his final strokes. The hot, thick substance coated his fingers, a few strands dripped onto its owner's stomach.

"Lick if off," the student commanded.

Bakura looked up to see Marik's semen covered hand hovering above his face, taken aback by the request. The blissful haze quickly dissipated. "Fuck no!"

"Lick it off or I won't untie you. Tell me how you taste?" Marik smirked.

He glared back at him. Marik was not backing down, his hand held firmly in front of him.

Very slowly, Bakura inched forward, the scowl never leaving him as he locked eyes with Marik.

The blond looked on with expectation as the paralegal's tongue experimentally touched the tip of his finger. The smallest hint of movement indicated a 'lick' before it retreated back into Bakura's mouth.

"Well?" Marik asked.

"It tastes salty...and bitter," he reproachfully replied, not wanting to taste himself further.

Luckily, Marik was feeling merciful and pulled back his hand. "I'm not sure if I want this on my face," he said, looking at the whiteness coating his fingers.

"Would you prefer it inside of you?" Bakura smirked, wishing he could pull the man back down for more. Shit.

"You're such a slut," the blond stated. Marik reached for some tissue, wiping his hand clean.

"Untie me," he demanded, arms feeling sore.

"Impatient, too."

"I still have to deal with you, don't I?"

Marik's smirk darkened. "Don't worry about me, Bakura. I am quite satisfied with the little show you put on."

The paralegal gave him a curious look as he tried to sit up. Marik reached behind him, loosening the tie. "Trust me, I got what I wanted out of it," the blond spoke, slipping the material out of its loop.

As soon as he was able to shrug off his bindings, Bakura began to rub his wrists. His numb shoulders ignited with a temporary burn, muscles stretching and blood flowing at its natural pace.

"Are you sure about that?" he couldn't help but ask anyway. This power trip was a new concept to him. It was supposed to be his power move.

"Positive."

Finally able to touch him, Bakura grabbed him by the waist, pulling him back onto his lap. "Maybe, I'm not so sure about that," he spoke against the blond's neck, purposely wanting to get some sort of reaction out of him, anything. Stop it.

"You used to hate me so much," Marik replied soothingly as he stroked the older man's hair.

"I hated a lot of things," he replied, leaving a kiss. Stop doing this, you dickhead. He's supposed to want you!

"If you continue to be a good boy, you'll get your chance another time," the blond said before slipping out of his lap.

Marik adjusted his clothing, like he hadn't just been engaged in indecent activities. "So how's my essay so far?" That threw him off completely.

"Uh...it's alright," he answered, carefully. It was a little unnerving how easily Marik managed to...switch like that.

The blond grabbed the bag of crisps he had abandoned and resumed eating them. As he did so, his eyes travelled down Bakura's front, landing right above his waist line. The older man followed his trajectory, realising there were some half-dried remnants of his climax on his skin. Taking some tissue, he cleaned himself off before fixing his pants and buttoning his shirt.