Domino University

Marik's in South America, Bakura's in France, and everyone keeps on their underpants.

Thu, 18 Jan 2007 20:01:12 GMT

Characters: Marik (darkreflected) and Bakura (grey_shade).
Rating: PG?
Warnings: Drug use, possibly naive/glamorized. *sticks tongue out at Savior*
Summary: Marik calls Bakura, after he calls Diabound (RP not posted yet). It's now debatable which of them puts the 'psycho' in psychoshipping.

Braaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnssssssssss.

Marik was sure that was what zombies thought. They wanted brains. They craved brains. They were like the Scarecrow from Oz, in that. Marik wasn't a scarecrow, he knew, though his hair was yellow and stood up straight like straw. He wasn't a Cowardly Lion either, and he didn't like Richard Lionheart even in the Disney version. He didn't even like Aslan. What was so special about lions anyway? Gryffindor didn't matter; courage was overrated.

Bakura was nothing like a lion, but he could imagine Bakura being like a snake. A white snake, a pale snake, a vicious, venom-fanged snake. White underbelly, pale from lack of sun, and snake-slit eyes with a forked tongue (trust not what the snake says, there is poison in his kisses).

Bakura wasn't his boyfriend and zombies liked brains, but Marik thought he ought to invite Bakura to the wedding anyway. Ask him to be the best man, maybe. Congratulate him on not having any babies, because congratulating him on not having any brains might not be the best move.

Marik had a cellphone now. He could call Bakura from that. He still knew Bakura's telephone number, despite everything else. It was etched into his mind, tucked between synapses and hidden in his mouth, behind his teeth. It had been tattooed into his gums and when he licked over dry, cracked lips, he felt them quiver on his tongue like tastebuds, hungry to be out.

He instructed the girl on what the number to call was, and saying it felt like Bakura's name. When she passed him the cellphone, Marik's hands were shaking and he thanked her in Japanese, not Spanish, but she smiled as she backed out of the room anyway.

Paris was lit with warm sunshine, golden and beautiful; dappled lights ran over the parasols outside a small café in the centre of the city, where a white-haired young man was sitting with a cup of warm coffee in his hand and a very patient little smile on his face. The man who was just leaving tipped his hat; said "Merci, merci," for what might have been the twelfth time, before leaving. Which suited Bakura, to be honest; it wasn't the kind of day where you wanted the company of some idiot who appeared to think he'd just come out of some boring B-movie about the mafia and who had just been given enough conflicting information to get himself killed by this time next week. Bakura didn't particularly care about that, in all honesty; everything he said and did here was merely a game to him, and it would be so until he decided to pack up and go home.

Home didn't seem particularly appealing at the moment, and why would it be when one could be in Paris, in winter sunshine and culture? So he supposed he would be sitting here playing the dangerous game for a particularly comfortable and long time; or, at least, until some ridiculous commitment drew him back to what he liked to refer to as 'real life'. The life where he had brothers, and an education to get, and commitments, and all of those boring little things that didn't seem to matter so much when you were in a foreign country. One of those being that his cellphone was ringing; it appeared to be doing that a lot, lately. He checked the caller ID, and it read Marik.

Well, that was interesting. He picked up the phone, flipped it over in his fingers, contemplating answering it; Marik was both part of 'real life' and not part of it, and was certainly no part of his exquisitely planned head games, but he supposed there'd be no harm in some communication. He supposed he missed Marik, in some quaint way; it wasn't that he wasn't getting enough sex, because he was, or that he didn't have enough companionship while the other wasn't with him, because that certainly wasn't true either. He supposed it was likely more due to friendship, than anything else.

"Bakura," He answered the phone with his name, somewhat professionally (as he always did), as if he hadn't checked the ID at all.

"Yes." Marik agreed, and his voice was like a curl of smoke, a little raspy but mostly smooth, insiunating and sliding through everything like it could dissolve right through a soundproof wall and reassemble itself into something that was quite unlike what had originally been said.

"Yes. You're Bakura." Quite the statement that, because Bakura was Bakura but who was Bakura really? Where was he? Where was Marik? Who was Marik? Marik wasn't the Cowardly Lion or the Scarecrow, but maybe he was Popper's black swan. Had it been Popper? Popper. Popcorn. Party Pooper. Whoever he was, he wasn't invited to Marik's wedding. Or Marik's reception. But Marik wouldn't be drawing up the guest list on his own, so maybe Popper-Popcorn-Party-Pooper would sneak his way on anyway. Maybe they'd have a fancy dress party and he could be a white swan, dressed in nothing but a silk collar and feathers in his hair.

That might be a bit obscene but Marik had been on his knees in an alleyway earlier, coughing up blood. That was more obscene than anything else could be. He'd lied and said he was in love; that was more obscene than anything else could be.

The city was obscene with life around him, and oh, Marik might just be in love with the word 'obscene', it budded so beautifully on your mouth and spilt like laughter, hissed like a snake and Bakura was a snake but apples were boring compared to the vegetation Marik had been trying lately and Bakura never gave away knowledge. Bakura was somewhere far away from Marik, and Marik was in a city that laughed all night long, that sang at the top of its voice and danced to the sound of gunfire, the rat-a-tat of machine gun fire holding a beat better than any drum ever could. Marik was in South America and the rich lushness of both its poverty and its joy was in such stark contrast to the old, elegant dignity of Europe; the bright colors and dirty sidewalks were as alien to Europe as the cinnamon-brown of Marik's skin was to the vanilla-white of Bakura's. More alien, in fact, because cinnamon and vanilla were both spices and Marik's skin had once been very close to Bakura's, had contrasted beautifully, whereas South America had never been close to Europe, South America lived and died like its existence was a defiance of a world in muted colors, and Europe decayed like a grand dame of the ballet, ageing but lovely.

Marik couldn't taste Bakura's kisses on his lips, even when he tried, but there was a little powder there and the granules itched at his tongue even as he waited for Bakura to reply.

Bakura was about to reply, but then the waitress appeared and the next thing he said was in French, fluent and easy, and only a little bit stilted on occasion. French was a stunningly romantic language, Bakura thought; it sounded so beautiful, and yet all he had said was 'Thank you very much, may I have the cheque?'. How strange the world was, sometimes. And yes, he was Bakura; he wasn't sure what exactly Marik was trying to say or prove by telling him so, but frankly Marik sounded high. Dealing with a high Marik would take patience, a little bit of time and some nicotine; as one hand held the phone still to his ear, the other reached for the pack of cigarettes that laid on the table; positioning it in his mouth, before flicking the expensive lighter, Bakura took a drag in and exhaled thoroughly before he deigned to answer.

"Yes, Marik, I am. How can I help you?" It was hard to be anything other than vaguely formal; they hadn't spoken for a while, and had fallen into the uncomfortable zone of being people I've had sex with before but have fallen out of contact with. Marik, particularly when influenced by whatever illegal substance he had ingested or injected now, sounded almost alien (uncomfortably foreign, in fact, when French was currently the language he was far more used to speaking and there was a lighter tone to Marik's voice, something cloudy that probably shouldn't have been there). Bakura never used drugs, apart from nicotine and paracetamol; he couldn't cope with the loss of control such things brought with them. His love affair with control had become, recently, more and more prominent, and it was working for him to great effect. It was a necessary evil, many would have said, but Bakura found the sweet twinge of satisfaction when someone walked to danger doing exactly what you said, because you'd engineered it that way, as much an addiction as drugs ever might be. He would have to get out of this, of course, before the police decided it was time to end his party.

Just, not yet. He would know when would be the right time.

That sounded like French, to Marik. Where did one speak French? France, of course. Quebec. Algernon? No. That was the man from Sleeping with Ernest. Importance of being Earnest. Ernest Whatever. Algerion? Some country, anyway. Or was it that there were people from that country in France? They were called beurrs or something. Bears. Except wasn't that what heavyset gay men were called? Or possibly hairy gay men.

Marik was neither. The drugs had thinned him out, made his bone structure even more prominent and given his veins a look like they would love to rip out of his muscles, honed to the point that it looked like maybe they'd been layered right over his bones. Junkie chic in an expensive suit and wearing attitude instead of sunglasses, because sunglasses were stupid and attitude never was. Even if landed you in dentention, but Marik hadn't been in school for months.

They had nothing to teach him he was interested in knowing.

Bakura was asking him a question. Pop quiz? What would he get if he gave the right answer? Something better than condescending approval from some jackass, anyway. Bakura knew better than to be condescending around Marik, though Marik didn't like the formality much either. How long had it been? Time was blurred around him, and he couldn't quite tell how much of what he remembered had happened yesterday, a long time ago, or never happened at all. He thought it had been a long time. Probably too long.

But he was the one calling now, and Bakura had asked him a question, and it was probably only polite to answer.

"I don't need help." Yes. That was true. Marik was pleased to know that it was absolutely true. "I want you to come to my wedding."

That was absolutely true as well. There were more things that Marik wanted but that didn't matter. Marik always only told the truth. He'd insinuate and implicate and let people draw false conclusions but he never outright lied. It wasn't his style; he liked creating his own artificial handicaps, not the least because he knew that if it ever got too dire, he could always take them away.

There was a moment of surprise at the statement; and then Bakura laughed, and the sound was an intricate mix of French sunshine and sinister amusement. Marik was getting married? Well, either that was true, which was amusing enough in itself, or Marik was merely delusional, which was amusing at face value, let alone anything else. He ran back a hand through his hair (it was longer at the front, now, but shorter at the back; he'd fancied a somewhat radical change, and unevenness was it. His hair looked sharp, which was the image he needed to portray at the moment), and then repositioned the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. Then, decided to answer what the other had said;

"My congratulations." The tone was wry, and mocking in that distant way Bakura always sounded when talking to people; "I'll be sure to attempt to take time out of my schedule to jet over. Send me an invitation."

He paused, and the pause was enough time to blow smoke out from nose and lips. An easy fix to keep him from being frustrated at what seemed like a drug-addicted man's meandering way of attempting to get his attention. There were a lot of drug-addicted men who did their best to get his attention at regular intervals, mainly to fund their habits, so it was becoming fairly difficult to take Marik seriously when he was obviously stoned. He thought of another amusing and more obvious question.

"Who are you marrying?"

The real question, of course, was 'how good is your drug-induced subconscious imagination'? But Bakura would never voice that aloud; such would be impolite, after all, and he was only impolite after dark.

"You can be the best man." Marik promised, and laughed as well, because it was hard not to laugh when Bakura laughed. The laugh sounded familiar at least, the usual mix of amusement and cruelty, the knowledge that if Marik was laughing, there was probably someone hurting, somewhere. And it was probably Marik's fault; his streak of sadism had never been hidden though in Marik's favor, he had never really meant it to go as far as it had with Yami.

And then everything had gone wrong and Marik had tried to be better for a little, tried to be less damaging because Yami had broken and when it came down to it, Marik was a twin with a J-Rock obsessed brother and an alcohol sister, and that really wasn't anything near enough to make him twisted enough to want to drive someone insane. Except he had done it anyway, and what could be done couldn't be undone, not when it came to people and their minds, so it didn't matter what Marik did. He couldn't get any worse, and he didn't see the point in trying to be better.

Being bad was so much fun; it came naturally to him.

The question about who he was marrying made Marik grin, suddenly sharply amused and vicious. "Yami."

He spoke the single word both like an invocation and a curse, like a statement of the obvious that was only obvious because the curtains had been drawn away from the prize that wasn't supposed to be won. Yami, of course, of course, because Marik wasn't marrying Bakura and if he wasn't marrying Bakura (Bakura was not his boyfriend), then who else would he marry? Who else mattered, even a little?

Why, Yami, of course. In a sense, Yami had been both his greatest triumph and his worst defeat; the former because he had never damaged anyone quite like he'd destroyed Yami, and the latter because what had happened to Yami had irrevocably changed Marik. The abyss might stare back at you but what happens in the end is that you either walk away or take a jump into it and Marik had never been good at walking away. The urge to watch ants burn under his microscope had always been stronger than the normal person's fear of being caught.

"Why not?" Bakura drawled amusedly to the comment about him being the best man; he was good at everything he did, at the moment, so why not best? It seemed unequivocably fitting at the present time. He drew the cigarette back from his lips as the waitress brought the cheque, handing her a plastic card and communicating once again in French. What he said now was obviously something he said often; for a language that was not the one he was born to speak, it was smooth and practiced. Bakura had always enjoyed languages; the little cell bars that held humanity apart. It was the most delightful thing to see, to someone with Bakura's slightly strange temperment, that with time one could break down those bars, so long as you were clever enough. Bakura wasn't a genius, but he was always clever enough.

The answer of Yami, though, mildly surprised him. Marik's whole saga with Yami had been going on for so very long, now, that he'd expected at least one or the other of them would have forgotten about it and moved on; yet, there they were, and Yami at least was still imprinted strongly in Marik's wasted little head. It was perfectly pathetic, but looking down on Marik through words was hardly advisable either. He didn't say anything at all that would be offensive, or impolite, or even show his disapproval; all he answered with was a mild "That's nice. I hope you'll be happy together."

Because the sad thing was, they probably would be. Marik had brought Yami down to his level, and now the two were likely just dysfunctional enough to mesh together perfectly; Bakura could remember a time when he was lodged in his real world, and concerned about such things, but such times had long passed. The waitress came back with the check, and he stubbed the cigarette out with long, pale fingers before standing and heading along the pavement; he measured his footsteps with the cracks of the paving stones, not because he felt he had to (although he had used many people with that kind of disorder to his advantage) but just because there was something right about hopping from foot to foot in the correct places.

"So, do you have a date in mind? I'm rather busy for the rest of this month, you see."

"I'll make sure you're on the 'admitted' list, then." Marik laughed again, and leaned back in the sofa, looking out of the window. The glass was cracked and stained a pale yellow, as if someone had been breathing out with nicotine-laced breath on it. Marik didn't actually smoke. Bakura did.

Marik remembered Bakura's userinfo and the bar that said for how Bakura had quit. He remembered when Bakura started again; Bakura was probably smoking now, so far away from everyone that might have cared enough to try to make him stop again. Except maybe Marik was just deluding himself. Maybe there was someone there that Bakura still listened to, someone new and shiny and not all the way over in fucking South America where the colors were so bright that even sober, they looked like hallucinations.

Even through the stained glass, the colors were as bright as Marik's eyes. Addiction couldn't take the shine away from them, only turn the shine feverish.

Bakura sounded so calm. Marik hated that.

He made himself laugh, though, laugh and lean back in the chair like he was as calm as Bakura (but Marik was only pretending, forever and always he would have to pretend), "No date set yet, but your brother's agreed to have the angel be the ringbearer, and to carry her down the aisle since she can't walk yet."

Given away. Yusra wasn't going to be a wedding gift but Diabound would have to give her away eventually. Just not to Marik or to Yami and by the time Yusra was old enough to marry, Marik would be too old to marry.

...Hopefully, she wouldn't marry Bakura. That would be worrying.

"I'll make sure you're on the 'admitted' list, then." Marik laughed again, and leaned back in the sofa, looking out of the window. The glass was cracked and stained a pale yellow, as if someone had been breathing out with nicotine-laced breath on it. Marik didn't actually smoke. Bakura did.

Marik remembered Bakura's userinfo and the bar that said for how Bakura had quit. He remembered when Bakura started again; Bakura was probably smoking now, so far away from everyone that might have cared enough to try to make him stop again. Except maybe Marik was just deluding himself. Maybe there was someone there that Bakura still listened to, someone new and shiny and not all the way over in fucking South America where the colors were so bright that even sober, they looked like hallucinations.

Even through the stained glass, the colors were as bright as Marik's eyes. Addiction couldn't take the shine away from them, only turn the shine feverish.

Bakura sounded so calm. Marik hated that.

He made himself laugh, though, laugh and lean back in the chair like he was as calm as Bakura (but Marik was only pretending, forever and always he would have to pretend), "No date set yet, but your brother's agreed to have the angel be the ringbearer, and to carry her down the aisle since she can't walk yet."

Given away. Yusra wasn't going to be a wedding gift but Diabound would have to give her away eventually. Just not to Marik or to Yami and by the time Yusra was old enough to marry, Marik would be too old to marry.

...Hopefully, she wouldn't marry Bakura. That would be worrying. Even Marik's drug-addled brain knew that.

~~Anyone at all marrying Bakura would be wrong.~~

"You do that." Bakura answered, like the entire story of Marik's marriage was nothing but a big joke, all for his amusement. Which it still might be, he contemplated (Bakura's ego had only increased in size over his stay in France; it was being pandered to as if you were someone very important that did it); as Marik of the two of them had always seemed to be the more ... attached. Well, if Marik had been expecting a continued attachment, perhaps he shouldn't have fallen out of touch so badly, started taking copious amounts of drugs and apparently copping off with Yami. Such things quickly downsized any interest Bakura might have in a person. It was only due to the fact that they'd had such a close friendship that he was, in fact, still talking to Marik while he was quite so... not lucid.

At the mention of Diabound and the baby, something struck a chord in Bakura's face; he hadn't heard from Ryou or Diabound for a long while, which in itself wasn't the issue. He was sure they both knew full well that he wouldn't be doing anything stupid, so that wouldn't be the problem; perhaps the issue was more that he wasn't a particularly good brother. But the brief stab of conscience quickly passed, and Bakura's face soothed back into the bland expression of calm uncaring.

"That'll be nice," He commented wryly, "Just hope she doesn't start crying, then. That'd spoil the atmosphere."

This sort of small talk was the kind he'd had to master; he'd never been this polite, but the French were relentlessly so, thus it had been adapt or die. Bakura had chosen the former.

"Oh, I will. Still haven't lost my ability to plan." Marik's laugh was wry but not tired. He'd taken ... something ... before calling Bakura. Had needed it, after his conversation with Diabound had nearly worn him right down to his bones. He couldn't remember exactly what, though. It had been grainy, he rather thought. Some sort of powder.

There were white powders he liked especially. Couldn't quite remember why he liked those, but he had the feeling it had something to do with Bakura. Bakura had never really done drugs, though, had he? Only nicotine.

Not only Marik but Marik was hardly a drug because it took two people to fall out of touch and if Marik had disappeared as soon as he'd hit South America, well, it had been rather a long time since he'd heard from Bakura either.

That prompted the sudden question, genuinely curious, "What are you busy with?"

As an afterthought, Marik added, "Line's secure."

Because of course it was secure. Considering where he was, anything less than a secure line would have the police breathing down their backs. Or were the police paid off too well, in little packets of powder and pills, to bother with that? Marik didn't know or precisely care. He wanted to stay out of jail, his little stint behind bars had been enough to convince him that prison life didn't suit him, but as long as that was accomplished, he wasn't bothered by the details.

Bakura might crave power and respect; Marik had always been more inclined towards distruction.

And if the baby started crying during the wedding, well, that would only be suitable.

"What am I busy with?" Bakura laughed again, suddenly, the sound another technicolour wave against the monotony that his too-calm voice had been; he didn't laugh very often anymore, and found the now-unfamiliar way his throat was moving to be fairly pleasant. He'd used to have quite a fun laugh; loud, bright, rather maniacal. This laugh was somewhat different; a little darker, a little more controlled, but it was still the same in many ways, and it was quite nice. It silenced fairly quickly, though, because laughing was somewhat an expression of amusement, and Bakura wasn't that amused, not really. Perfectly calm, a little uncomfortable, a little nostalgic, but not amused; and wondering where they went wrong, really. It wasn't the sort of sentimental thought he would have about any kind of relationship; sex could be found in most places. But their friendship, that was different; that had been pretty special. It felt fairly absent now. Not to worry, though; he likely wouldn't see Marik for a long, long time, so it didn't really matter. Thus, a particularly sarcastic answer to what he'd been doing was more than allowable, it was somewhat justified.

"Head games and not taking drugs, Marik."

There was something resentful about the way he said it, somewhere beneath the layers and folds of calm and what was almost disdain. He wasn't quite such an emotionless automaton as he might like to make out, every now and then. It was handy, to be able to pretend that such was what you were, particularly when sending someone into danger (distracted amusement and general glee really weren't appropriate for such situations, he'd found this out quickly upon getting involved in the motions here). He'd been quite sharp with Marik, hadn't he?

He hadn't been sharp with anyone in a while.

That had been uncomfortably pleasant, too. This conversation was bad for him.

Marik smiled.

At least that was familiar.

Not his smile because Marik tended to grin more often than smile, a crazy, not-quite-bound grin that looked like it could leak into the air and infect people with his own particular brand of boundary-breaking daring. His smile wasn't that familiar -- when he smiled, it was always knife-sharp and edged with cruelty, so this smile, in particular, was a little odd. It was nearly wistful, like nostalgia could hit him too, and something in his stomach twisted around on itself.

It felt like his intestines were curling around each other and strangling his internal organs. The pain made him curl up in the chair just a little, eyes squeezed tightly shut, but Marik kept his breathing controlled, inhaling and exhaling as steadily as usual. He wouldn't give Bakura the wrong impression; his words hadn't actually hurt, Marik was too used to that sort of behavior from Bakura.

Inhale. Exhale.

...It felt odd to think of those two words out of context of inhaling something besides slightly smoky air.

"Mmm, head games." Marik let himself laugh as well, amused and not afraid of showing it, eyes glittering indigo under the bright haze that covered them. "And here I always thought that was my area of expertise."

He didn't bother saying anything about Bakura's later comment. Why should he? It was true enough, and Marik didn't lie to Bakura. Or, more accurately, Marik rarely lied at all. He implied, and he let lies be believed, but he didn't lie outright.

He liked setting up little barriers like that for himself; it made life more interesting.

The fact that it also made him more trustworthy, insofar as someone like him could be trustworthy, was something of a bonus.

"Well, things change," Bakura answered; if they had been speaking in person, there would have been some form of expansive hand gesture to go with it, to prove that he wasn't at all bothered. But now he said it, Bakura had to think about it; is that what distance had done, then? Distance made Bakura into Marik (and that was something he'd never really wanted to be; Marik had been that dark space that Bakura had thought about going to but never quite stepped) and Marik into something else; something that would seriously talk about marrying Yami, something that would be dependent on drugs, something altogether fairly pathetic? It was an unusual thought, and one that left him cold. He stopped thinking about it, and the small beginnings of a smirk began to linger about his lips, as if he'd had another thought that pleased him.

"From my past experience of your games, I'm better at it." He added; it was true. Marik's games were usually petty - Bakura had causes behind them, and even if those causes were petty, at least there were reasons. And reasons made a much better way of making people do what you wanted them to; all you had to do was convince them that they believed in it,too, and everything would fall into place. Bakura didn't think this was wrong; if they died for a cause, they'd feel better anyway, even if it were skewed and misconstrued. That wasn't his problem.

"Evolution." The one-word comment was thoughtful; Marik had been reading Darwin's Origin of Species the other day in a bus stop. It had been there, lying on the seat, and it had been in English. He wasn't sure who'd left it there, or why, but he'd picked it up and started reading. He'd missed his bus too because it wouldn't have felt right to take it away from the bus stop, even if he could have left it at another bus stop.

The ashes had flown everywhere when he'd burnt it, though. So maybe the book had left the bus stop after all. Too bad that knowledge didn't really work by osmosis. Inhaling ashes would get you nothing but a blocked nose and an unpleasant headcold.

"He called it transmutation at first." It wasn't a non-sequitor. It was still about Darwin. Transmutation was the wrong word, though. Because it meant one thing changing into another, but it had a degree of urgency that was false for the slow process of evolution. Transmute. Transport.

Transcend.

Marik could transcend this conversation.

Rise like the phoenix, die like the moon (in stages).

Because Bakura was wrong. Marik was always better at head games. Even with his own head spinning, even with colors changing and twistng and the world evolving right in front of him, Marik was still better at head games.

The ability to inflict pain always came with a price; Bakura was a thief and Marik wasn't.

Power was easier to create than to steal.

"Really? Tell me what you've done, then." A half-challenge and this was nearly even, nearly the way it had been, but Marik was smiling again, leaning back and wondering what Bakura would say. Because if Bakura became him, and Marik became someone else, who was marrying Yami and who was Yami? Marik had embraced the sides of him that he'd sought to hold at arms-length, and Bakura had walked right into the space that Marik had left empty. So was Yami Bakura now?

...Was that why Marik was marrying him?

Marik hoped not.

Bakura paused, contemplatively. He supposed he could tell Marik about all of his little schemes and plots; but why would he bother doing that? Marik wasn't involved, he wasn't part of any aspect of Bakura's life while he was here. And having had this conversation, he had the feeling that he would be here for the foreseeable future - he couldn't really imagine, at the moment, attempting to talk to his brothers, or any other of the people he knew, trying to fill the now great and yawning divide between them. Going to a supposed wedding would thus be interesting; but the point was sound and solid. Marik could issue all of the challenges he wanted, but Bakura was now more than experienced at rising to challenges that would be impossible to complete or win; because Marik's pride, if he was still the same Marik (and he didn't seem that way, but Bakura wasn't taking chances) would never allow him to take a fall to Bakura, so the argument would merely go on. And even thinking of comparing his delicate, intricate schemes here in the French politic to Marik's continuing saga with Yami was merely ridiculous; Bakura would never allow any of his games to become that personal. Thus, he easily won this fight without so much as having to think about it; when you allowed yourself to become personally involved, that was always when you lost. It was simply a foolish thing to do, and so Bakura simply would never do it; why should he get involved in one person's fate, start caring, or being deliberately uncaring, about their future? It made no odds to him.

"I've no time for getting the ruler out now, Marik," He answered with a roll of the eyes that Marik wouldn't be able to see, but likely would be able to hear in his voice. He had been feeling nostalgic merely moments ago, but now he was simply feeling disdainful. And that was better, more normal. "That would be infantile."

His tone was effortlessly superior. As it always was, these days.

"Worried that you'll come off the worse?" Marik couldn't help but laugh at that. It sounded so familiar to have people back away from a challenges they didn't think they could win.

Besides, the mention of the ruler made him think of the rumors that had been going around school about Bakura versus him and how he'd won. Naturally. Though perhaps that had just been an assumption on everyone's part because Marik was stronger. Which was rather stupid because strength didn't have anything to do with size. Strength could come from intelligence as well, though size didn't have anything to do with intelligence either because otherwise, nerds would be a lot bigger than they were.

The innuendoes really just made themselves, didn't they?

Though maybe that was also because of whatever Marik had taken. He wished he could remember what. He rather liked the way it was making him feel.

Or maybe that was because he was talking to Bakura for the first time in quite a while (Bakura was not his boyfriend), but that was too romantic a thought for Marik.

Marik was many things, but a romantic was not one of them. Or so he told himself at least, because romance only got in the way. Though Marik had no idea what it could've gotten in the way of. Marik wasn't going anywhere, after all.

Well, he was. He was going to the church. But where was he going after that? Hell? Heaven? The graveyard? He and Yami should hop for matching tombstones instead of rings, it would make more sense. Matching obituaries instead of vows as well, because vows were just promises and promises were made to be broken, as were hearts and fingers.

Fingers looked good when they were broken. Marik had never seen a broken heart (Bakura was not his boyfriend) so he wouldn't now about that one. A brief vision flashed across his mind, Bakura with hands that dripped red, holding a lump of bloody meat in his hand, a smile on his lips and foot on a corpse with a gaping hole in his chest. Bakura, tilting his head back, swallowing the heart whole and raw. Bakura, smiling. Always smiling.

Marik missed him so much it made his heart hurt, but he wrote it down to the drugs and closed his eyes. Closed his eyes and waited for a reply, closed his eyes and counted the irregular beats of his heart, closed his eyes and reminded him that he still had a heart.

Closed his eyes because Bakura was not his boyfriend.

He suddenly didn't like whatever he'd taken. It was turning out to be more of a downer than an upper after all.

There was a car waiting for Bakura on the corner as expected; with a nod to the waiting driver, who opened the door for him, Bakura allowed a smile to grace his face briefly. It sounded so familiar, the question, the laugh; but it wasn't familiar enough, because Marik was different now. There was something weak about him, and it wasn't just the drugs; it was something beyond the senses, yet rang in his ears and vibrated through his teeth. A sense of wrong about Marik when comparing him to his old self; at least from this phone call (it was just a phone call; maybe he was imagining things, but somehow he thought not) it seemed to be an unworthy comparison in all ways. Well, now Bakura was again busy; it had been a nice interlude, nostalgic and sort of painful in a way that Bakura hadn't felt for a while, but now it had to end.

He had things to do. A world to destroy, or save, dependent only on viewpoint; a world he was comfortable with, very much unlike this chasm that lingered between him and Marik, demanding to be noticed. He'd noticed it, and now he was going to walk away from it, because it really had stopped being his problem the very first time he had wondered why he was with Marik, back when they were at university and Bakura himself had been loud, and impetuous. The only thing from then that he still was now, was clever. And a thief, of course; but Bakura didn't steal items, nowadays. There were much more important things to steal. Like happiness, or sadness. Hearts, souls. Whatever he felt like, whenever he felt like; the world he had built was a world that catered to whatever he liked, and for the moment, Marik seemed to be as far away from that as one possibly could be.

Bakura was selfish. He always had been.

"Not at all, but perhaps another time." He said dryly, "I'm afraid there are things to be done." He paused. "Nice talking to you." It hadn't been, not really; it had been discomforting and dangerous, quite close to shattering whatever walls he had built for himself. But they were reforming before his subconscious eyes, and that was good. Very good.

"Say hello to my brother for me when you see him next," He added, and wasn't really sure why he said it; some inperceptible guilt, most likely. It quickly faded, but what was said, was said.

Would he go to the wedding? Most likely not.

"Goodbye." It sounded final, and it probably was.

"Small talk doesn't suit you, Bakura." The smile that twisted Marik's lips was quite of his control; it was close to a sneer, something angry and disappointed at once. Marik didn't prize control in the same way that Bakura did; control was something to be broken in other people.

Marik found self-control wasn't anywhere near as fun self-indulgence.

This conversation wasn't fun either, though. It had been Diabound's suggestion to call Bakura, but Marik thought that he might have done it anyway, because Bakura was, had been --

Which tense was more appropriate? Marik distracted part of his mind with that, thoughts fragmented like jewels, bright and hard and showing nothing of what lay inside them.

It was easier to hang up on Bakura like that, "Goodbye."

The phone clicked in Marik's hand as he punched the off button, and he tossed it carelessly onto the couch, then stared at the ceiling. No patterns. No pictures.

He needed another hit (Bakura was not his boyfriend, Marik needed nobody), and then, maybe, he would find Yami again.

Xmas gifts from Marik!

Fri, 05 Jan 2007 17:52:10 GMT

Marik, being the loving and very responsible brother that he is, has sent a birthday gift to his twin, and Xmas gifts to Malik and Isis. As well as an anonymous gift to Varon, but that one is just because he's a bastard. Bakura, Diabound and Ryou also got gifts, just because the Bakurae and Ishtars stick together and Bakura is, after all, Marik's not-a-boyfriend.

For Malik, there's a kit of hair dye. Lots of different colors, washes out after a couple of weeks, and it's wrapped up in white paper with a pattern of black music notes, tied with gold ribbons. That's his birthday gift.

Isis gets a box filled with tiny little bottles of various sorts of alcohol. You know the small kinds they sell in Europe in the check-out aisles? Those. They're each individually wrapped up in bubble wrap, and the box overall has a ivy-and-mistletoe print, with red ribbons tied around it. The same paper has been used to wrap the rest of the Xmas gifts which are as follows:

Malik -- Red leather waterproof gloves, and a card suggesting, If you build an obscene snowman, make the penis really small and stick up a sign saying 'Kaiba v4' to see what happens.

Ryou -- He got the same gloves in white, as well as a note saying, Go start a snowball fight with Malik. He needs the exercise.

Bakura -- Mistletoe dangling from a string attached to a stick. In other words, portable mistletoe. The card says, Come find me to use it., because Marik misses him more than he'll let on.

Diabound -- Weed. What else? And a charm for his daughter that looks like a bundle of leaves bound in thread, accompanied by a note explaining, The swamp witch said to hang it over her crib to give her good dreams. The weed'll do that for you.

As for Varon, he got a lot of special photos of Yami. No elaboration necessary.

You put a bullet in my head.

Sat, 04 Nov 2006 07:55:28 GMT

Characters: Marik (darkreflected) and Yami (idonthaveityet)

Rating: R. Blood, language, gore. C'mon. It's Marik and Yami.

Summary: Just in time for Halloween, Yami visits a strung out Marik to tie up a few loose ends. It's been a while, you see, and they've got a lot to bury. Surreal, as description is all taken through Marik's eyes.

Green. Lots of green.

And grey. Green and grey and smears of dirty white. And brown.

Trees. Yeah. They were trees. And bushes. And concrete. Concrete sidewalk, concrete pavement. Cars in all sorts of colors, most of which weren't registering to Marik. The cars, that was. Not the colors.

Marik. Yellow. Brown. Purple, when his eyes were open, but they weren't open now. He was stumbling down the sidewalk (grey) like a drunk man, hands in front of him.

Yellow. Grey. Off-white yellow. Vomit.

Water had no color. No taste either. Got rid of the taste of vomit, though and that was good.

Good as anything could be in this country that was so hot that even the vomit cooked on the sidewalk, congealing like eggs mixed with blood. Marik wasn't sure if he'd thrown up blood or not. Didn't think he had.

Alleyway. More grey. Shades of grey. Couldn't tell the difference between the shades. They looked kind of yellow, even. Grey smeared with yellow.

Hands against the walls, stone scraping at his palms, head hanging down and breath harsh and raspy. Bloodshot eyes. Red and yellow, but Marik couldn't see his own eyes. Couldn't see the purple. Couldn't see the red.

Eyes closed, bright sunshine. Inside of his eyes red instead of black. Red blood, yellow sick -- scrambled eggs and broken fetuses. Fetii? Marik didn't know. Didn't even want to think of it.

Thinking. Hah. That was a laugh.

...Ow. Shouldn't have laughed. Ribs hurt, bruises splotched over them, bigger than handprints, darker than hate.

Marik laughed anyway, and pushed himself away from the alleyway, eyes glittering. He'd own this sick, pathetic, ready-to-fall-over city. Yeah. Screw Domino, screw university, screw guilt and sicko doctors and--

"Yami?!"

Yami's smile changed the world; it brought white into the scene. Not dirty white or blue-white or green-striped white with blue spots or grey streaked crisscross over or white stained red or yellow smeared through but just white. Uncompromising.

Break, not bend; that tasted like Yami. Pressure, pressure, pressure, tight-quivering and then the limit hit and run right through: snapsnapsnapsnapsnap and all those tiny bones splintered one after the other. Ripping out Yami's seams or breaking that one crucial thread and sending him scattering in sparkly tiny sparkly little pieces.

Skitter skitter skitter and all the shining flung into the grey. Then it would be greasy, if you tried to pick him up again, greasy like egg whites, the whites of your eyes, because alleys did things like that. Licked things and gnawed away at them with their filthy little teeth. That was what all the leather was for. The teeth would snag but not puncture, if he ran.

But he wasn't running. He was out of joint, movements sharp and halting like there were frames missing (eaten all up, even the marrow sucked out) but he was coming closer. Closer closer closing and opening a hand. Fingers don't move quite the same way with all the little bones in fragments that could scissor through the skin; they bend where they shouldn't. The movement's changed. Fluid.

And fluid's pooled in his outstretched hand. It doesn't have principles (fluids don't; they're slick and they slide and they stick and who thinks of principles at a time like that) and it's compromised. In a compromising position. Primary red and slick slick slick oily dark in the center, purple and blue where the shadows through and a mess colour, not red or brown or purple but something sickly in-between where it caked under his nails and dried between his fingers.

Drip, drip, drip. You leak when you're sewn together clumsily, and Yami's attached at all the wrong angles now. Even his smile's twisted so slightly. He must have had the work done cheap. "Did I miss you?"

"Wha-what?" Broken words, broken out of Marik's mouth. Breaking his teeth on the way out, except they didn't. His teeth were a little yellowed now, not cigarette smoke but smoke-stained still, and they weren't as yellow as the whites (the term is misleading) of his eyes.

No broken teeth, but if they had been broken, then maybe he could have spit out blood, spit out blood into the center of Yami's hand, given him blood and made it a sacrifice (what you give willingly cannot be taken from you) to placate an angry little god. Little god with spikey hair and rusty gears inside his body, sweating flakes of rust like freckles. Freckled Yami, and some of his hair is red, so he could be Irish (but he isn't) and that wouldn't excuse his temper.

Tempered steel, and there is no steel-grey here, but there is (nearly) every other shade of grey, and the stone that Marik was leaning against is grey.

His open mouth isn't grey, which is good, but he is statue-still and if he were a statue, he would make an ugly one. The triumph of modernism, where aesthetics are disdained in favor of shocking the (huddled) masses. Huddled for cover, and when the statue falls on you, then you break under its weight (freedom's price is paid in blood, he who pays the piper calls the tune, but Marik's got nothing to pay Yami with.)

You know that, right? You know how this act goes.

But Marik doesn't know, so Marik's still standing in the alleyway, mouth open, one hand against the wall, and eyes wider than they've been for weeks.

It's the first time he's seen Yami for months, and he thinks that Yami looks wrong, looks like someone took him to pieces and then stitched his bones together with leather, lacing the white together with black. White on black, and there's no grey in sight (there's grey everywhere), and Marik unfreezes and coughs, a hand over his mouth to conceal the splatter of blood that smears its way over his palm.

His skin is a sickly gold-brown, but the red-purple-blue mess on the inside of his hand matches Yami's (under our skin, we are all the same).

"Did I miss you?" Yami repeated, repeats, is repeating; it's hard to tell where the words (the tenses, the time) came apart and where the needle slid through to reconnect them, but it's plain to see -- even if your eyes are the mess colour, like Yami's are -- that there is something wrong here, in this alley, with its glistening little teeth.

He tries it again in Arabic, but the connection's just as tenuous, shifting even as it curls the syllables around each other, thicker and less transient than Japanese; "Did I miss you?"

And the smile shifts a little more diagonal now, looks a little more red at the curves, dark at the corners, something else inside; you won't know until you find out, will you? You never do. But it's bound to be wet, to glisten like those teeth, and maybe it's bottomless, because the question sounds now like it's coming from very far away, echoing up and fading and distorted by water.

Yami may have drowned; his lips look a little blue now. Fingernails cracked and grimy and black underne--trick of the light, now they're manicured, funeral-perfect. Which was it? Did it make a difference? The blood underneath them is the same, but it always is, universal, indiscriminate. That's the way life is, however thick or thin it coats the insides of Yami's veins (or the back of his throat).

He hasn't drawn his hand back, and now the curvature of his elbow seems all wrong. Joints don't work that way, do they? Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong. What was he thinking? Oh, he was thinking all out of line, out of joint, out of sequence, clumsy little thoughts that wrenched arms out of sockets. "Did I miss you?"

Arabic. Marik knew the language. Knew English too. Knew it, couldn't hold it, because how could you hold a language? Write the words on paper, hold it in your hand. Write the words on skin, lick them off (eat your own words) and Yami's lips were shiny but not with saliva. Salivate. In anticipation a treat.

What was the treat? Was there a trick? Tricks came with treats and to trick out a motorcycle was to customize it, and was Yami tricked out? Marik had joked about him turning tricks (for a dirty needle and a spoon of white powder, I'll suck your cock and send you to Heaven), but that was different to being tricked out with razorblade nails and a smile made of little chips of white, white like someone had dipped a brush in venom and painted over Yami's mouth.

Except venom didn't have a color, did it? Poison was colorless, pale, and it was blood that came out red and then pus-yellow and really, white didn't come into it at all.

White should come out, pretty pearly teeth pried free and polished into beads, strung into a necklace.

But it won't. Marik knows that.

Only yellow comes out, yellow and red, and Yami's making him want to be sick all over again. Throw up on Yami's shoes, kneel in the dirt before him with all the pleasure of the self-flagellating martyr. But Marik's not a martyr, and Yami's not the hand of judgment (or even its middle finger), and he coughs and coughs and coughs and somewhere along the line, he remembers to breathe.

"What are you doing here?" Words spit out, and Marik has to spit when he's done (red on grey, blood on concrete, he remembers hitting Varon's head against the ground and wonders if Yami's come for revenge, Marik's in no condition to fight but he would anyway), and aims it at Yami's feet.

It's not vomit, but it's something, and it's his (Bakura is not his boyfriend).

A frame sticks, freezes, snarls before being forced back into alignment, but in that time Yami's foot has wrenched (Did his knee just rotate counterclockwise? A ninety degree angle, quarter turn, but who measures un-nature that way? It would take undegrees and in the end Marik's spit is still under Yami's heel). And with a slick little pop, things are back to normal as if they never changed.

"Because," Yami explains. His smile is missing a lot of frames, and it flashes in stop-motion to show teeth and teeth and tongue, a gash opened up with clumsy strokes. He brushed his teeth with a Chinese butcher knife on the metro, but there's no metro in a city like this. Too much underbelly for an underground. It's red red red red red underneath, but it only shows black in this light, with lips to show what shade you'd find under the skin, and glinting white teeth to tell all the pretty lies.

White isn't a real colour. It's only pretending.

Yami doesn't move (doesn't bother to pretend) but he wrenches Marik's hand up, and with uneven snaps and a grinding sound, bone chipping against bone, those broken fingers (snapped and glued and snapped again, reconnected with puppet wires) lock with his. Bone juts up, sharp and splintered and promising it'd be interesting to gnaw at (for the alley's teeth, or anyone's, just so long as they weren't perfect white, because the bone is already filthy, stained with what's dark and dripping and a mess inside of him, under all that too-thin skin)

It splits through his knuckles because he's stretched the skin too far (see what happens to flesh when you force your will on it?) but his and Marik's palms, forced seamless together, were stained from the start, and what's a little more of that not-quite colour between them? It all seems to slather, cake, drip, congeal, repeat but no rinsing, in an instant. Sealed.

Their hands pressed tight (his nails are tearing matching holes in Marik's knuckles) together like this was where all the blood came from to start; lungs and stigmata are excuses. "I missed you."

A gasp, breath(e) in and breath(e) not coming out. Because the air was choking him, because the air was fingers inside hims throat and clawing at him. He'd made Bakura give up smoking because smoking was bad for you (smoking killed, Marik's never killed, this pain won't kill him) and Yami isn't a cigarette though he's rather thin and interesting colors (yellow and white and red all over).

Marik couldn't smoke Yami if he tried, but he could burn Yami to ashes and lick the dust off the concrete, scrape his tongue open and leave a smear of red there. Lick the floor at Yami's feet, lick the underside of Yami's shoe and swallow down the little projectile that he'd spat in Yami's direction.

But he can't, because Yami's hand is interlaced with his, and there are bits of bone sticking out and drops of blood hitting the concrete. Splat. Splat.

Three snails sitting on a railroad track. One goes, "Train!"

Splat!

"Where?!"

Splat!

"There!"

Splat!

Splat.

Their bones are growing together, Yami's bones are crawling out of his flesh and digging into Marik's, making him bleed, pushing their way down through his muscle and blood and tendons and touching down on his bones. Yami's bones are splitting apart and wrapping over his like a web; if Yami pulls, will he pull Marik's bones clean out of his hand? Marik likes that hand. Liked it. He doesn't like it much now, not when it's been spiderwebbed over, grown to Yami's.

He should pull his hand away, but he can't, he feels like he's frozen, like he's just watching Yami and his bones and his blood and his bones and Yami because Yami is not his and never was,

Marik is breathing. This is the present tense. Marik was breathing. That hasn't changed. This is still the present tense.

"You're insane."

And why does his voice sound so shaky when he's speaking the truth?

If Marik saw the connection, sees it, too vivid to block out, in a gnarled, nauseating tangle of bones splintering and then fusing together, one brittle and jagged knot, endless knot that's always been forced straight through the core of them, if Marik sees saw will see that, Yami would see (will see, does see, has seen) a connection more visceral, in the way one swollen, festering wound ties the two of them together.

It's cracked open now and the blood keeps coming because that's the one constant in life, but it was always there and that was their sick story: blood smeared where it shouldn't have been, ugly and black where it welled up and turned contaminate and the scars a lurid, shapeless wash. Rippling out from that first point of contact there's disease and there's loss, and there's that mess colour that will never wash out.

"You didn't miss me." He held tighter, squeezed, he smiles a little whiter at the way the blood slips, sloppy open-mouthed kisses couldn't be closer than this.

Skin was never enough to keep anything out, and Yami didn't need to be fucked to have Marik inside him, did he? No, impure things that couldn't be undone and elbows that hinged the wrong direction and words that weren't really coming out of his mouth: that was more than enough to put something in his bloodstream that wasn't right. And no way to claw it out no way to tear it apart the way missing frames and sudden lurches and pulverised bone and memories no one could take away tore Yami apart, but there was this.

He could make Marik's heart stop as easily as his own, or he could reach and take it right out of his chest. "You are me."

And if Yami was Marik and Marik was Yami, did that make Marik insane? Yes, yes, it did, it made Marik insane, made him a whore, made him kneel and beg for breath, made him kneel and lick and suck and it wasn't as innocent as blood from the underside of a shoe any longer, but that wasn't true because it had never been innocent. Not when it came to them.

Because something couldn't be innocent when it wasn't between innocents and Marik wasn't innocent and neither was Yami (Yuugi was, Yuugi was the proverbial innocent in need of protecting), so this wasn't innocent.

And even a blind man wouldn't think that the way that Yami smiled was innocent.

Because a blind man wouldn't see the smile but he'd smell the air, smell the stink of blood hanging heavily over everything, smell the corruption that the air emanated and know that nothing pure could live and breathe around them (around Yami, around Marik, like tar you taint everything you touch).

Marik closed his eyes but he wasn't blind.

Neither was Yami.

Yami must have been blind once, a little thing curled up in a womb, curled up with Yuugi, thick as thieves (stealing oxygen from their mother, stealing nutrients, stealing life, and Prometheus thought he had pulled off some great trick when he'd taken fire), but he's not blind now. And he's bleeding down, and he came into the world in blood and the afterbirth is so nutritious that animals in the wild eat it, but Marik doesn't want to taste Yami's blood because he's smeared blood on Yami, thick trails down thin thighs and there's blood between them, beating wildly in their hearts.

He's not of Yami's blood, but that's not what's important.

It's never been what's important.

Thud thud thud and what should be footsteps running (someone come save me) aren't.

Not heartbeats either, and Marik realizes with a jarring breath(e) that he can't hear his own heartbeat. He can hear Yami's though, and don't ask how he knows the difference (ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies) because he doesn't know how, he just does.

And the words that bubble out of his throat feel like they should be a cough, but instead they're a curse of the type that you find on tombstones (or that you fail to find on tombstones but you know they're there, inbetween all the pretty words), "I am glad you're gone."

Because Yami is not there, and to deny something makes it true because if you say a lie, that gives it life and Marik's breathing like he's dying.

Yami won't stop smiling until someone takes the iniative until someone takes that half-hinged jaw and tears it clean off, one sharp movement; he's broken enough into his little pieces pretty pieces ugly mess that his bones would just snap like that. There aren't many of them left to break, and he's only held together with the clumsy-vulgar stitching of denial, sheer force of will.

Why else would his eyes be the mess colour? He's contaminate from the inside out, poisoned at the core, and it's Marik's poison isn't it? Their blood, their loss, their evisceration, not Marik's guilt or Yami's shame but their combined malice and their combined stain. And Marik's hands may have looked like they weren't in as many pieces but they will be... His hands are as stained, it just takes someone to show it.

Magnets betray each other in proximity, and this is more intimate than betrayal (What can be?) and this force that's pulling (forcing; why not call it what it is?) them together is stronger than some simple trick of iron and the light.

Pressure, and then like over-ripe fruit (pomegranate, or is Yami the one who leads down into dark now?) Marik's hand pulps and with a few little cracks, almost musical how the bone scrapes, Yami's is curled into a fist, fingers through the back of Marik's hand. If he tugs, will Marik's hand pop off at the wrist, or would it just shred off the fingers, leave a mangled lump of red with thin, dripping bone broken off at odd intervals. Yami doesn't know, and never will; how could he ever let go?

"I'll never leave you," he says sweetly, but his lips aren't moving quite in sync to the sound that's coming out of his mouth. Never. And it's a promise a sentence a curse but it came from Marik's lips long before it did his. And he smiles like it's less curse than kiss, but kisses don't break bones (just execute).

Breath has no color, not when it's hot.

When it's cold, it's (nearly) white, but when it's hot, you can't see it. All you can see is an open mouth and (yellowed) teeth, red tongue grown over with white sores.

Breath makes a sound, but you can't hear Marik's breathing because you are not there, you are sitting and reading this on a computer screen (unless you have printed it out) and you can imagine the way that he sinks to his knees (on the concrete, on the grey) but you cannot truly see it. You cannot see the way that he stares at Yami's feet, eyes wide and shocked and staring, and you cannot hear the way that he (fails to) breathe(s).

Marik is hurt. Marik is hurting. Marik is bleeding, Marik is on his knees (whore), and Yami is in front of him. Their hands are joined, and maggot-white bones grow together, bind them and in the darkness remind them that this started a year ago when Marik was defending Bakura's honor (and where is Bakura now that Marik has need of him) and that this will end (never).

Red and red and red and the concrete drinks it up. Speckled concrete, too rough against the thin fabric of Marik's trousers, and he can feel it grind(your bones to make my bread)ing against his knees (whore), and the red disappears into the grey like the sidewalk is as parched as Marik's mouth.

He should be screaming. He really should.

He opens and closes his mouth, and pants like a beaten dog (on his knees), and grabs at Yami's trousers and pulls. It's a plea, an imprecation, then it's a curse and it's angry.

"Fuck... Fucker!" His free hand balls into a fist and he has swung at Yami's stomach wildly. He wants Yami to let go (silly boy, you started it, never start anything you can't finish) and doesn't care if Yami takes his hand along with him (Yami has taken all of him already, Marik took Yami first, and this is not about sex because sex is easy and this is not).

"Narcissus does not become us," Yami chides, smile unfaltering. And it would be narcissistic if they fucked, wouldn't it? They're reflections, refractions, and that's why they fracture when they collide, and this isn't the first time now, but that's what happens when orbits decay, isn't it? Spiralling closer, closer, closer, and it's only going down hill from here.

But Marik's blind swings are laughable (have been will be were) because there's nothing to be done about someone like Yami. Self-defense classes and hours of scrubbing do nothing but take all those little fragments (those you can find, the ones the alley spits back up) and slather them with synthetic blood and a bit of hope and let them stick, congeal, resubstantiate into something else. It's never what it was and it's hollow on the inside and it's in the hollow spaces (between the bones, between them) that there's the dark and it's the dark you have to worry about; it doesn't lack colour, it devours it.

Bone fragments glued together with strips of sinew for padding; you can't punch that. It's studded leather. It knows how to yield and when to yield and the answer is never, never again, but that's okay, isn't it? Because they have forever, Yami and Marik, forever to wallow in this cesspool of their own making, because they're sinking now, like Yami's sinking to his knees now he's caught Marik's wrist.

And the alley's getting darker now, losing its colours too; there wasn't enough left to feed on, Marik's dying and Yami's scraped all out, so it turned to previous cannibalism and it's eating all its little teeth away. Its gums are bleeding, but it's not clear where the blood on Yami's lips is from. He's shoved both Marik's wrists to the ground now (grey, bone picked clean and photographed poorly, autopsy pending and no one cares) but he's done it without moving and isn't that a curious phenomenon.

Hold. Marik isn't moving now but aren't his shoulders twisting, blades forced up and elbows forced out; in proper supplication you put your hands on the ground. But not your pretty face; that'd be a waste. And how could Yami live if he let Marik miss the chance to see that reflected in his eyes they were identical. One matched set, because ties that bind are not negotiable, but they will kill you, slowly as grief. It's only a matter of time before the alley swallows itself up entirely, and there aren't words for the loss it would be if Marik's heart stopped now, before he fully understood.

"Don't deny me," Yami says, and his eyes glitter like the teeth. Another frame sticks and the tears are there (and gone, and there again -- is he Christ or only Judas?) but the smile is carved into his face, dripping, and it (like all else) is never going to change.

narcissus, what? a laugh, scraped sore, spit out like chunks of concrete (when they land, they break your ~~heart~~ bones), and marik is looking (see spot run, run spot run, fuck you spot) at Yami and his hands are broken

but they are not his hands they are yami's hands do you know who Yami is?

green eggs and ham, sam I am, blood and eggs and vomit and marik would like to projectile vomit onto Yami but that is not an option (he is out of options but we are not out of punctucation though we are out of capitals paris france vienna austria london belgrid oh wait that made no sense just carry on reading and pretend that you aren't thinking of yami on the rack and marik in the spanish inquisition) so he does not

know

"Yes." he says (and we have punctuation, I told you we did), and marik says it because it is not a no and nobody listens when you say no (he didn't listen when Yami said no, but Yami didn't really say no, he just begged and cried and begged and cried and marik liked the way that Yami looked when he cried because he was almost pretty but Yami is not pretty now and has never been) and there is blood on Yami's lips and a smile that's too white too clear because they do not need clarity

marik doesn't know what he needs, only what he wants

he wants

he wants

his shoulders are forced backwards and he imagines his shoulderbones splitting out of his flesh, sticking out white and latticing into wings like lace, too fragile to fly with but he could never fly when Yami is holding (owning) his hands and keeping him down on the ground crucified on concrete and marik kicks like a newborn baby but it's only his own feet he hurts (soon they will run out of pronous, they will slide down his throat like sticky saliva and choke him and that's why marik says so little) when he does so

so

it's easier to look at Yami than to not because Yami is right there (and has always been there, we are still not out of punctuation but the capitals have run away and will never come back delhi colombo tokyo) and marik's eyes are blue and marik's eyes are purple and the whites of his eyes are not white not like Yami's smile but marik isn't smiling now (if he dies he will never smile again) and he says what he should have said the first time they met, he says what he meant with his first breath and what will lie under Yami's last words

"I hate you."

and it's the end of a period the end of a era because they're running out of lies and they're running out of teeth and they're on their knees in an alleyway and there's nowhere left to run to

Les mots comme ça, selon Yami, ou peut-être seulement selon l'allée, dans sa bouche noire béante, avec ses dents: brilliants, luisants, chatoyants (mais ils sont rien auprès de les yeux de Yami) les mots, ils sont les premiers de cet monde faible...les plus fidèles, les plus purs. Les mots qui démolissent des murs et écrase des os fragiles sous leurs pieds, et forcent le sang à travers les veines, pompent la vie dans un coeur mourant.

«Je te hais.» Avec la révérence, le ferveur, la haine de soi. Et les yeux de Marik sont ni bleus ni violets; ils ne sont rien sauf peut-être le crachat au-dessous de la botte de Yami. Le sang qui revêt leurs doigts, craqué et figé, c'est plus important. La connection divine entre deux hommes qui noient dans cette mer, celui que ils s'étaient immergés dans volontiers. Un plungeon, deux morts, aucunes excuses.

«Cela, c'est la raison que je suis ici,» dis Yami. «Tu me réclamais, tu m'as réclamé... Et maintenant, je ne partirai jamais.»

Mais il ne peut pas laisser ses mots éclipsés par les mots de Marik. Donc il appuie ses lèvres (un peu tâché de sang, mais doucement, gentillement, la berceuse et la bonne nuit, mon prince doux, la crucifixion t'attend) au front de Marik. Une marque éternelle pour une âme fichue. La revanche, le châtiment.

Words like that, to Yami, or perhaps only to the alley, from its gaping black mouth with its teeth: brilliant, glimmering, glistening (but they are nothing compared to Yami's eyes) the words, they are the best of this feeble world...the most faithful, the most pure. Words that tear down walls and crush brittle bones under their feet, and force blood through veins, pump life into a dying heart.

"I hate you." With reverence, fervor, self-hatred. And Marik's eyes aren't blue or violet; they are nothing except perhaps the spit underneath Yami's boot. The blood coating their fingers, cracked and congealing, that's more important. The divine connection between two drowning men in this sea, the one they immersed themselves in voluntarily. One plunge, two deaths, no excuses.

"That's is the reason I am here," Yami says. "You cried out for me, you claimed me... And now, I will never leave."

But he can't leave his words eclipsed by Marik's. So he presses his lips (a bit blood-stained, but gently, kindly, lullaby and good night, my sweet prince, crucifixion awaits you) to Marik's forehead. An eternal mark for a soul condemned. Revenge and punishment.

Und zum das, wass konnte Marik sagen? Er weisst was er wollte sagen aber die Worte kommte nitch zum seine Mund, sie sterben in seinem Hals. Du bist nichts. Nur scheisse. Nur scheiss und schweinfleisch und ich wunsche dass du wirdst dich selbst-toten.

Oder vielleicht nicht.

Er erinnert wie es war wann alle Leute haben gesagt dass Yami war tot, und er wollte nicht (ja, nein, vielleicht, bitte, ich habe gewusst dass es war alle deine Schult) – er wollte nicht—

Er wollte—

Er wollte—

Sorge. Regenbogen. Alles war dunkle, und er weisst nicht warum (am diese weisse Kreuze, ich wird dich kussen) aber es macht nichts. Es macht nichts, er macht nichts, Yami machts nichts und die Blud von Kinder ist susser als alle mogliche Trinke, aber Marik weisst das aucht nichts.

Bakura.

Wo bisst du, Bakura? Ich brauche dich. Bitte, komme. Hilfe! Hilfe! Ich brauch deine hilfe, aber du bist nicht hier, nur Yami ist hier, Yami ist immer here.

Yami und Yami und Yami und Marik sagt wie es war die Wahrheit (und vielleicht im einen anderer Zeit, es war), "Ich liebe dich."

Er weint nicht.

"Jetzt wirdst du mich endlich allien lassen?"

And to that, what could Marik say? He knew what he wanted to say but the words didn’t come to his mouth, they died in his chest. You are nothing. Only shit. Only shit and pork and I wish you would kill yourself.

Or maybe not.

He remembered how it was when everyone said that Yami was dead, and he didn’t want (yes, no, maybe, I knew it was all your fault) – he didn’t want—

He wanted—

He wanted—

Sorrow. Rainbows. Everything was dark, and he didn’t know why (on this white cross, I will kiss you) but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, he didn’t matter, Yami didn’t matter and the blood of children is sweeter than all possible drinks, but Marik also doesn’t know that.

Bakura.

Where are you, Bakura? I need you. Please, come. Help! Help! I need your help, but you are not here, only Yami is here, Yami is always here.

Yami and Yami and Yami and Marik says like it’s was the truth (and maybe in a different time, it was),

"I love you."

He doesn't cry.

"Now will you finally leave me alone?"

A pause, a laugh, "I love you too." Die slowly. Let the teeth take you.

Mon, 25 Sep 2006 03:58:44 GMT

Characters: Ryou [__sarak], Malik [scarred_bronze]

Rating: PG-13 for boys making out. As if you expected anything less. :X

Summary: It's Ryou's birthday, ~~three weeks late,~~ and he finds that this birthday turns out much better than his last one.

Standing in the kitchen, Ryou's hand extended out and he opened up the fridge door. Bending over, Ryou leant in to scan the fridge' contents. Frowning as he saw not much of anything to make, he got a little closer in to rummage. Who knew? Maybe there was something hidden? Eyes widening, he grabbed for a hidden pudding, yanking it out in excitement. He was so shocked he even found that! Yes, and he would once again, for the 2nd time that day, escape having to make some real food for himself. He supposed he could've all day and then he wouldn't have been so hungry then, but he had just felt a bit tired and had lazed around. Plus, cooking meant making a mess and for once, Ryou really wasn't in the mood to clean. Of course, not cleaning meant not cooking which meant he had only picked at things all day, equaling to a whole banana and a few chips. He hated to eat when Malik wasn't around though because he liked to be able to eat dinner with him, so he always tried to hold himself off.

Sighing, Ryou closed the fridge, fingers daintily pulling back the aluminum top and stuck his tongue down into the pudding, taking a small lap, taste buds overwhelmed with the sensation of chocolate. Smiling happily, he knew it would be good enough until Malik got home which would hopefully be soon. Hopping up onto the counter, he sat there, swinging his legs, licking at his pudding. He knew he'd only be hungry again within another hour, but at least it would hold him off. Besides, maybe he could keep his mind off food and go out looking for applications. He was getting much too tired of living off of Malik and felt overly guilty for doing so. It wasn't fair and he hated not being able to contribute to thei-err, Malik's apartment since he ate alot too. Besides, then if he worked, he wouldn't feel like such a loser with the only thing to look forward to being Malik coming home...

Malik, much like his boyfriend, couldn't wait to be home. Particularly because it was Ryou's birthday, and he absolutely hated that he had to work - or rather, that he'd fibbed about having to work. There was no way in hell that he was going to do any actual work today, but there was one thing that needed to be done, and that was buying a present for said boyfriend.

Up until a couple of weeks before, he hadn't had much of an idea of what to get for Ryou. But once the day actually arrived, well... Malik was sure that he'd enjoy his gift.

Once he arrived back at the apartment complex, Malik bounded up to his own, quite eager to present Ryou with the gift, which was ~~somewhat~~ neatly stuffed into a large, colorful bag. "Oi, Ryou!" he called, setting the gift bag down on the couch. He wandered into the kitchen, only to find Ryou seated up on the counter, licking at a cup of pudding. "Ohh, so there you are~."

Sitting there, Ryou softly hummed along to the radio that was playing in the living room, head bobbing along to the song. It was one he didn't know, but then again, he didn't know a lot. He liked music well enough but was just never one to bury himself in it. He knew a few bands and that was well enough for him-well, he only knew a few bands before Malik, of course. Now that he had a boyfriend who was really into music, he was really happy because he always felt like such a loser when people would talk about bands and songs he had never even heard about. He spent so much of his time watching shows that were more educated and wasn't one for music videos and MTV. It was only one more reason it amazed him someone like Malik actually gave him a chance. There were so many people that had Malik's similar interests, yet he picked Ryou who tended to be clueless on so many of them. Whatever though, he was happy and Malik was happy. It just reminded him once again how lucky he was...

There wasn't much more a person could ask for. Ryou was enough of a gift to last him for years to come. Contently, he smiled and took another lap of his pudding, getting to the vanilla, which was his favorite part. It was then though that he heard footsteps upon the entrance tile. Ears perking as his name was called, Ryou immediately found himself grinning, eyes shining brightly as he peered to the hallway, waiting for a familiar face to emerge. "Hey!" he chimed, taking another lick of his pudding cup before setting it down. "Yeah, I was trying to find something to eat but what's up? How was work?"

Malik grinned and walked over to him, leaning against the counter next to where his boyfriend was sitting. "Well," he purred, peering down at the other - even when he was seated on the counter, Ryou was still shorter. "Work, if you could even call it that today, was great. It didn't take long at all, which means I get to come home early and spend more time with you." Okay, so that wasn't really the truth, but Ryou would find that out soon enough.

"Although, I'm more concerned with how your day's been," Malik said, leaning over to nip at Ryou's ear slightly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't today a certain someone's birthday~? A certain somebody who just so happens to be entering their last year as a teenager, has fluffy white hair, and a sexy boyfriend? 'Cause y'know, I'm not too good at remembering these things..."

Picking up his pudding cup again, Ryou tilted it downward and took a big gulp, finishing off most of the little snack. Gulping it down, he set the cup back on the counter once again, eyes meeting his boyfriend's. "Mm? Then I guess that does make it a really good day if you get to come home and see me earlier," he joked sarcastically, letting out a soft laugh. Leaning over to the side, he kissed at Malik's cheek, murring. "You know I missed you though." And that-as sadly as it was since Malik really hadn't been gone all that long today, was extremely true. In the apartment, he could only entertain himself so long before he just grew bored of being by himself. He was spoiled now and too used to having company, being alone wasn't something he was fond of.

Slouching back, Ryou kicked his feet playfully, eyes closing when his ear was nibbled on. "Mm..." Giggling, he gave a soft shrug. He really hadn't even thought about it being his birthday all day. Sure he knew, but it just wasn't that important to him any longer. Once his brothers had grown up and were more into hanging out with friends than being at home, that was really the last time he ever got excited about such an activity. He just hoped this year wouldn't turn anything out like last birthday. Honestly, he had even been dreading it a bit. So far though, he was in the clear and there were no disturbing dolls or other highly erotic items waiting for him and this he couldn't have been happier of. "I suppose it is..." He trailed off, arms reaching out for the male, wanting to be closer. "I just hope by saying 'yes', that means you'll help me in finding something better to eat than just pudding? I'm wasting away!" Lifting his shirt, he poked at his ribs in humor. "And also make sure my Brothers never find me for certain reasons that don't need to be mentioned? I think I'd like this birthday to go on without being highly mortified..."

As a pair of arms wrapped around his neck, Malik leaned in, resting his head on Ryou's shoulder. "Aww, I'm sorry you're starving to death, Ry. Did I not leave enough food for you?" he asked jokingly, arms curling about the smaller boy's waist. "I'll make us some dinner if you want." He wasn't about to ask about what happened during Ryou's last birthday; knowing Bakura and Diabound, Malik was pretty sure that he'd be quite disturbed at what the older Bakurae had done for Ryou.

Remembering his present, he lifted his head to look Ryou in the eyes. "I got you something, though," he said, a big grin on his face. "Wanna go see what it is?"

A warm sensation washed over Ryou as his boyfriend moved in closer, making them touch. Murring in happiness, Ryou's fingers contently curled in Malik's blonde locks, hugging him affectionately. "Mm, no you did... And are you sure? I know you've probably been busy all day. I just didn't bother to make anything 'cuz I was waiting for you," he admitted, tilting his head to kiss Malik's neck. "I can cook dinner if you'd rather go relax, I don't mind. It's not like I've really done anything yet all day so..."

"Huh?" Surprise pooled in chocolate depths as his own head rose to meet Malik's. "You did?" Smiling softly, Ryou leant in to kiss at the corner of Malik's mouth. "You know you didn't really need to... You already made my birthday great by coming home early, that really is enough..." Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't curious to see what it was. He hoped Malik hadn't spent too much on it, whatever it was. A box of cream puffs was good enough for him. "But yeah, I mean...I want to see it! I'd be stupid not to like presents."

Malik's grin widened as he pulled away from the other's grasp, reaching down to grip his hands instead. "C'mon, then," he said, tugging Ryou down to his feet. He led the younger boy into the living room, where there was a large multicolored gift back sitting on the couch.

"I kinda lied," Malik said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't work at all today. I just went out to get your present. Though you can't say I didn't do anything productive; I actually managed to package it somewhat neatly. Wrapping gifts isn't my strong suit." He let go of Ryou's hand, nudging him toward the couch.

Sticking up from inside the bag was a flat, square object wrapped in blue paper. "So... have at it, Ry."

Taking Malik's hands, Ryou hopped down from the counter, leaving his pudding cup abandoned. Following his boyfriend to the living room, he found himself at the couch where there was a large bag awaiting him. He really had no idea what it could've been. Maybe a book? After all, cream puffs weren't that huge. Whatever it was, Ryou was sure it was something good though because Malik always treated him better than he deserved and he guessed his present would be just as nice.

Blinking in a bit of shock, Ryou faced the other male, squeezing at his free palm. "You did? I hope it didn't take you a long time or anything! I mean really, anything would've been fine. I'd hate for you to put too much effort into a present for me." On birthdays, he always felt a bit guilty having people get him things, especially since Malik had. After all, Malik already treated him so well and basically let Ryou live -off- him in a way and that was too much already. Ryou felt like he had to pay every cent back because it just wasn't right....

Smiling warmly however, Ryou lunged at his boyfriend, giving him an appreciative squeeze. "Thank you so much!" he chimed, nuzzling into the other's chest. After all, it was the thought that counted in the end, no matter what it was. Letting him go, Ryou stepped over to have at the bag, removing the blue box, eyeing it curiously. Slowly, he began to unravel the paper.

Hovering over Ryou's shoulder, Malik smiled down at him as he unwrapped the gift. This was only part of what he'd gotten for his boyfriend - the other box inside the bag was the real gift, though both of them kind of went together. Ryou'd discover that soon enough, though.

Once Ryou finished unwrapping it, Malik spoke up again, resting his hands on the other's hips. "I thought you might like a scrapbook to keep photos in, since you... well, it just seemed like something you might like. It comes with a bunch of stickers and markers, so you can decorate the pages however you want."

A smirk formed on Malik's face as he wrapped his arms around Ryou's waist, giving him a gentle hug. "That's only part of it, though. Look in the bag again."

As Ryou unwrapped the box-shaped gift, he wasn't sure what exactly it was at first. It took undoing the paper from the sides to figure out what it was. Opening the scrapbook, he found the package with all the included pieces. It was really nice, he had to admit. Scrapbooking and photography were things Ryou had always wanted to get into but still; he lacked the main ingredient for that combination; a camera. Of course, he wasn't going to be sad over that fact. Someday, he'd have a camera so he could fill out a scrapbook with the photos. It would just be a present for later. Now he felt a bit sad he had never really taken photos before though and had some to at least start up on the scrapbook. Setting that aside though, he set the book on the ledge of the couch, hugging Malik again.

Reaching up to kiss his boyfriend's cheek, he gave him a light nudge. "Mm, thank you! It's really nice-there's more?" Pausing, Ryou let go of Malik, wandering back over to the bag. What else could Malik have gotten that would go with the scrapbook? Maybe it was just more decor to use for starting it? Hands reaching in, he lifted out another box, unwrapping it and eyes nearly bulging out of his head at the sight of the box.

It...

It -wasn't-. Biting his lip, his fingers slowly crept up the top of the box. Surely Malik wouldn't. Doing that would be illogical and a waste of Malik's money. Ryou didn't need anything that nice! No, there was probably something else in there that was smaller and -much- cheaper. A camera like that-Ryou both didn't deserve and Malik wouldn't have spent -that- much...right? Gulping, Ryou lifted up the top of the box, sure it had to be a mistake.

As he watched Ryou tug the lid of the box open, Malik smiled again, brushing a few white strands behind Ryou's ear. "It's not the exact model you were wanting, but the guy at the store said it was the next best thing... and that it was better for those who are just getting into photography." It wasn't as expensive either - though it still took a decent chunk out of Malik's wallet - but Ryou didn't need to know that.

"Even so, I hope you like it. You can take some stuff to actually put in the scrapbook now," Malik said, pressing a kiss to the side of Ryou's head. "Happy birthday, love."

Closing his eyes and opening them again, and widely, he still couldn't believe it. What was Malik doing, giving him something like that?! Didn't his boyfriend know this was way too much to give him? Sure they had been dating a long time and they loved each other a lot, but so...? Even his brothers didn't splurge and get him nice things like this! His friends didn't and his boyfriend shouldn't have, either. A new camera was too much to accept. How could he take something like that, even if it was what he had wanted most? It still wasn't right. He only felt guilty about getting it. Malik shouldn't have had to buy him one, he should've had to buy it himself. Yet, still...

He was so -happy-. Did Malik really feel he was worth giving something like that to? "N-No...it's great, it's really great..." he said a bit shakily, peering at the box again, amazed. Setting it down, he turned around to launch himself onto his boyfriend, kissing him very hard, absolutely smitten with the gift and his love for the male. "Oh my god, why did you get me that, Malik?! That's too nice for me, you really didn't need to spend so much! I mean, uh-uhm...I love it but...I just...I don't know what to say. No one's ever given me something so nice before..." Not any beside his parents, anyway! And even them getting him such nice things, he hated. It was so much and Malik had so many other things he probably wanted to buy. That camera was just too much... How could he accept something like that?

Ryou may have been smaller than him, but he could really put some power behind him if he wanted to. Malik had to step backward a little to keep them steady as he was suddenly pounced; he'd expected a reaction similar to this, but he wasn't going to fall down this time.

Once he'd been released from the breathtaking kiss his boyfriend had given him, Malik grinned widely, squeezing him around the waist. "I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that with having two older brothers, you got a lot of hand-me-downs over the years." He'd had a similar situation, but it wasn't quite the same - hand-me-downs from an older sister turned out to be... pretty odd.

"I kinda thought you needed something that was really yours. Other than me, that is."

He didn't even think about his weight or what would happen if he pushed so hard on the male that they fell over. He was too happy and frustrated over his new camera to even think currently, wondering why he deserved it in the first place. Why did it always seem to get better when he felt it couldn't be any more perfect than it already was?

Hugging the other tightly, Ryou just nuzzled into his shoulder, showing Malik just how much he adored him. "Wha...?" Hand-me-downs? It wasn't that bad, or what he made it out at first to think. A lot of the time, he probably could've had nicer things but he hated to ask and be given things he hadn't earned. He didn't want to seem too needy when he had two other brothers who had to have stuff, too. Asking his dad for expensive things like that just wasn't something he liked to do because he felt selfish when he did so. Getting up the nerve to ask him for the laptop for college had been hard enough a task for the poor boy. "No it's just...I mean...I don't know. I guess I just never feel like I deserve things like that. I don't like it when people go out of their way for me because it just makes me feel so guilty..." Kissing the male's neck warmly, he clung to him tighter, if possible.

"I, uhm...I don't even know what to say... Thank you. Thank you so much. I owe you so badly for that, you don't even know! Why do you love me so much, you make me feel so guilty, because I love it so much. I think...I don't deserve you..." Whispering, he pressed another kiss to Malik's neck before lifting his head to meet the other male's eyes. "Really...I don't...You're always too good..."

"...Ryou, it's your birthday," Malik said, nuzzling against his head. "Your birthday's the day that everything's supposed to revolve around you." Although Ryou ws right, to an extent; Malik knew that he spoiled his boyfriend, but he couldn't think of any reason why he shouldn't. He had a job that was good enough to make a living off of, he knew what he wanted to do in his life, and he had a boyfriend who deserved to be spoiled every once in a while.

Smiling, he leaned forward and kissed Ryou again. "Really, don't worry about it. You said you wanted to get into photography, and I think you'd be good at it. I wanted to help you take your first steps into the field."

"I know but..." He stopped, his boyfriend's words interrupting him mid-sentence. Still, what Malik said didn't exactly convince him it was right for Malik to give him such things. It was a lot of people's birthdate on September the 2nd and so many were more important than him. Why did Malik think it was so special? Either way, it wasn't like he couldn't accept the gift. That would've been rude, especially when Malik put so much thought into it. The idea of Malik liking to make him happy made him feel strange, like it wasn't something he had quite earned as of yet. He supposed if it had been Malik's birthday, he only would've done the same, but still! That was for Malik, not for him!

Kissing Malik back, he gave the male a soft smile, arms settling a bit easier at his neck, not strangling him of air anymore now that he had calmed a bit. "I do though... I just never thought I'd really get the chance but..." Kissing him again, he nuzzled their noses together happily. "Thank you. It really is the best thing I could've asked for besides what I've already got-but you knew that, you confident bum." Laughing, he squeezed the male tightly for a moment, before settling comfortably against him again. "I'll even dedicate a page of my scrapbook to you-if you're lucky." Too bad he knew the book would be close to completely filled of Malik. After all, there wasn't anything he loved more.

Ah, now there was the Ryou he knew - calling him a bum and pretending like he didn't absolutely adore him. Oh well, Ryou was cute when he played hard-to-get. "Gee, don't I feel loved," Malik said sarcastically, sticking his tongue out at the other boy. "I just so happen to think that I'm very lucky, and I'll bet anything that half of that book will end up with pictures of me in it." Yes, he definitely was a confident bum. A confident and sexy bum.

"You wanna take it for a test run?" he asked, looking back toward the camera. "Y'know, just to make sure it works. It's already got batteries in it, and it comes with instructions on how to work the thing."

Smiling at the sticking out of the tongue, Ryou playfully chomped out at it as if he were going to bite it off. "Shush! You already know you're loved, liar." Anyone would've had to be absolutely -blind- to not sense the adoration absolutely pouring from Ryou. Anyone would've been able to tell just how deeply he felt about his boyfriend; his life was devoted to him, anymore. "Lucky..? I don't know about that but...I guess one out of two isn't bad. My book would likely end up being an Ode to you, wouldn't it? Isn't that kind-of sad?" Laughing, Ryou kissed his boyfriend's cheek. Even if it was sad, it didn't mean he didn't love every moment of it. Being in love with the perfect person for him was almost too much for one lifetime.

"Yeah! I'll just take a quick glance over the instruction manual and we can!" Leaving his boyfriend, he took his whole entire one step away to grab up the box, padding over to the opposite side of the couch to have a seat. Folding his legs crisscross on the cushion, he opened the box with a smile and got to work, taking out the camera and the manual. Setting the camera beside him, he opened up the manual pages, flipping through it to find out the basics. "I bet I'll take such sucky pictures!"

Malik rolled his eyes at his boyfriend, plopping down next to him as he began to flip through the manual. "Oh, don't say that. You're gonna take some sexy pictures, and you know it." Really, any picture could be a good one as long as one could tell what was going on in it. Even some of the blurry ones could look pretty cool, if the right things were done to them.

He draped an arm over Ryou's shoulders, a smirk forming on his face. "And since there's not really much else to take pictures of, your first ones will be especially sexy because I'll be in them~." ~~Oh, there was his ego getting in the way again.~~

"Mm?" Looking up from the manual, a smiling Ryou peered to Malik, giving a soft roll of eyes. "Oh, sure... I haven't even tried photography techniques before, how can you say I'd be any good when I don't know much about it? You have too high of hopes for my poor little failure self." Laughing, Ryou shook his head, thumbing through a few more pages just to check and make sure he had all the basics down, like how to flip from camera mode to actually viewing the pictures.

Leaning into the arm, he rested his head upon Malik's shoulder, reading on a bit longer. At Malik's comment, he had to snort. Turning to the male, he shook his head, leaning in to kiss at his chin with a grin. "You are absolutely ridiculous, you know? I don't know if I've ever seen anyone with as much confidence as you. It's too bad confidence isn't worth money because you'd be so rich, it isn't even funny." Of course, this was something he loved about his boyfriend. He knew Malik was partially kidding and it was all in good fun. Either way, whatever the reason, it still made Ryou smile and love his boyfriend even more. ~~The new camera probably helped a bit too but...~~

"Maybe I'm just hoping some of it will rub off on you," Malik purred, giving the smaller boy a nudge with his nose. "Like certain other things have done~." He was probably going to be smacked for that or something, but it was true... the more he was around Ryou, the more he could see the other picking up some of his little habits.

He gave Ryou a squeeze, looking back down at the manual. "Everyone's got to start out somewhere, though. Even if your first pictures don't turn out well, you can only get better from there, y'know? Practice makes perfect, after all."

Glaring at Malik playfully, Ryou just rested his head back on Malik's shoulder. He really wanted to say something back, but he knew Malik truly was rubbing off on him. Ever since he had been staying with Malik, he almost felt...braver somehow? It didn't seem to matter as much to him what people around had to say like before. Why would it, anyway? He already had somebody who loved him for the person he was; what reason did he have to try so hard when what he already did was obviously making Malik happy[though he still was a bit cloudy of why]? At Malik's next comment however, Ryou did find himself gasping. Blushing slightly, Ryou slapped his boyfriend lightly on the leg. "Malik! Don't say things like that!" he whined, face darkening by the moment in embarrassment.

...Unfortunately, that was one he couldn't necessarily deny, either. ~~Except really, it was quite fortunate, but.~~ "Mm, you're such a brat to me, you know that?" Pouting, he leant in to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek. "I think you just like to make me die of mortification..." At the squeeze, Ryou lightened up a bit, snuggling into the male's side, as he gazed to the manual again. "I think I'm figuring it out now! I think...I can turn it on and whatnot!" Turning to his boyfriend, he gave a warm smile again, still full of gratitude and love. "Thank you..." Kiss on the nose tip. "For being the best though and making this the best birthday ever."

Malik couldn't help but laugh at his boyfriend's reaction. It was just too cute, not to mention downright hilarious. Making Ryou blush was always fun, even if it tended to get him ~~painlessly~~ smacked. "You're welcome," he replied, leaning in to take a kiss of his own. He gave Ryou's lip a gentle nip before pulling away, a big grin on his face. "And yes, I do like embarrassing you. But only because you're cute when you're all flustered."

Fingers idly twirling a few strands of Ryou's hair, Malik picked up the camera, looking it over. "The first step is usually figuring out how to turn it on. Shouldn't be too hard to adjust the settings and stuff from there, and actually taking pictures should be pretty easy, too. I mean... it's a camera. How hard can it be to figure out?"

Giggling, Ryou took the offered kiss, eyes closing in mirth as his lip was nibbled on. Now there was no doubt in his mind that this was definitely the best birthday ever. He swore, he had never felt anything -this- good. Not only did he have love, but he had an awesome camera to fill up pictures with of his boyfriend, who he felt deserved every spot on that memory card. "Mm...matter of opinion but...that's still a mean thing to do. It's my birthday, you're supposed to be sweet to me..."

Leaning against Malik, Ryou gazed down to the camera in his hands. His eyes washed over the buttons and little trinkets upon the camera in wonder. At his boyfriend's comment, Ryou gave a soft nod. "I know, I just didn't want to mess it up or anything by making a small mistake that could've been avoided with just a little bit of reading." After all, it was better to be safe than sorry. If he broke his camera before he even got to try it, he would've been very mad at himself. "But..." Lifting his hand, he moved to press a small button on the top of it, smiling. "That is the power and..." Setting his manual aside, he let the camera load before using the little button to switch to shooting mode, in which a picture on the screen shown the entertainment center across from them, since that was the direction the camera was pointed in. "And that one right there..." Using his index finger, he pointed to a little bit wider button on the top of the camera. "Takes the photos. I am such a genius!"

"Mm~ Yes, you are," Malik purred, deciding to lay off on the teasing for once. Ryou was right; it was his birthday and Malik was supposed to be nice. Besides, he'd already met his Ryou-Blush limit for the day. "You didn't even need the manual, did you?" Smirking, he lightly tapped at Ryou's temple, "you're so intelligent that you already knew how to work it."

He gave Ryou another brief squeeze before letting him go, leaning back on the couch. "So... should I just strike a sexy pose, or is there something specific you want me to do~?"

"Huh?" Grinning a bit confusedly, Ryou shook his head as Malik actually agreed with him. Really, he didn't think he was that smart. Anyone could've probably figured it out and much faster, without needing the manual. Ryou was just a wuss though and liked to be careful, which tended, alot of times, to be more of a minus than a plus. Lifting his head, Ryou looked up to look at his boyfriend, letting out a soft purr as his nose was tapped. "Oh stop, now you're just being so nice, it's ambiguously synthetic!" Laughing, Ryou kissed Malik on the cheek. "Really, I was only kidding. I probably did need the manual to figure it out. I mean...I'm not that smart, I don't think..."

Biting on his lower lip, he took the camera back in his hands, eyeing it with joy again. He still couldn't believe he actually had one for himself. Now, he could finally attempt to do what he had wanted to do for years. "Well..." At Malik's question, he froze. How should Malik pose? Contemplating this, Ryou lifted his free hand to drum fingers on his chin. "Uhm, uhm..." Waiting until an idea surfaced in his head, the male gave a smile. "I think...I have an idea..."

Squirming, Ryou moved to crawl into his boyfriend's lap, straddling the other's thighs. Smiling, Ryou held the camera up and waited until he had a nice view of a relaxed Malik, snapping a picture as he stayed as still as possible. Grinning, he then leant in further until their noses were nearly pressed, camera moved carefully to the sides of their faces, snapping the picture button again. He really hoped it was actually in the right position so the pictures would come out.

Kissing Malik gently, he let his eyes close and snapped the camera a few different times, making sure he would get the shot he wanted.

Malik's hand moved up to rest on Ryou's hip as he returned the kiss, relaxing even further into the couch. "... Y'know I'm gonna want copies of these, right?" He asked after pulling away, a soft smile on his face. "'Cause if I ever have to wake up in the morning without you, a picture would be the next best thing." Not that it'd really be a problem in the near future, but still - pictures were a nice thing to have.

A shiver ran throughout him as a hand rested upon his hip. He clung a little tighter to the camera, smiling down as Malik fell back further into the plush couch cushion. Giggling at Malik's words, Ryou nodded and leant in again, pressing his nose back against Malik's, taking another picture like that. "Mm?" At Malik's next words, butterflies made their way inside Ryou's stomach, making him feel as if he was flying. Moving the camera out a little more, his eyes turned to the camera, and he snapped a picture like that before capturing Malik's lips again, moaning softly against them.

"...But that isn't something you ever need to worry about. I don't ever plan on going anywhere." Kissing Malik deeper now, Ryou ran his tongue along Malik's bottom lip, camera flashing as he attempted to enter the male's mouth.

Ryou's words made him feel quite warm inside; the idea of him never wanting to leave was just... it was a wonderful thought. Malik's arms coiled around his boyfriend's waist in a tight hug, pressing their bodies together. He was oblivious to the camera's flashes as he parted his lips, allowing Ryou to enter. "Mm..." Malik let out a soft moan as he deepened the kiss, fingers starting to lightly stroke against the small of Ryou's back.

A squeak left Ryou when their bodies crashed against one another, making him writhe in the male's arms. His spinal cord pushed back, even though his mouth was busy attempting to taste all of the Malik it could take. Snapping another picture as he entered, he was starting to get a bit too into it to be able to control Malik and keep him back and the camera at the same time. When fingers ran down the small of his back, Ryou's body pressed itself against Malik's, camera falling to the cushion. Camera now completely forgotten about, he delved deeper into his boyfriend's mouth, tongue brushing against Malik's. "A-Ahn..!" Mewling in delight, he attempted to put as much love into his kiss as possible, wanting to get his feelings through of just how much Malik meant to him.

A shiver ran up Malik's spine as Ryou's tongue brushed against his; he subconsciously reached under the other's shirt, fingers tingling at the feel of the soft skin. He'd completely forgotten what they'd been doing prior to their make-out session, and as far as he was concerned, someone might as well be filming them because he wouldn't notice it at all.

Unfortunately, the need for air took a hold of him and he broke off the kiss, only to press his lips against Ryou's jaw instead. Malik's fingers continued to glide across his boyfriend's back, tongue flicking out to taste Ryou's skin.

Ryou's body arched into the fingers, tickling him, making him let out a soft giggle. He pressed his body further against Malik, trying to swoop in and give the best kiss possible, wanting to show all his thanks and love with it. Even if there hadn't been a camera, his birthday was still the best just to be able to give and get a kiss like this right back.

His hand brushed down Malik's shoulder, getting a needy grip as their kiss continued. It was one of those moments that made him wish time could stop, just so he could keep being with his boyfriend like this forever. Purring at the kiss to his jaw, Ryou's eyes remained closed as he caught his breath, winded from the strong kiss. "M-Mali..k... I'm going to make sure your birthday goes just as good as mine is..." Giving a soft moan, Ryou's eyes opened to reveal affectionate chocolate depths, busying himself with looking over all that was his and his alone.

Malik's arms tightened around Ryou in a warm hug as he gave one last kiss to his chin, and he pulled back, gazing intensely at the boy on top of him. "I think... just having you there with me would make it as good," he said, a warm smile forming on his face. He leaned up to peck Ryou's lips again, holding the other closely. "Happy birthday, Ry."

Smiling happily, Ryou hugged warmly right back, arms curling around Malik's neck in a loving embrace. Leaning forward, he nuzzled his own cheek against Malik's, eyes closing in bliss. "Well, it'll definitely be good then." And it would be even better than Malik would hope for because Ryou would go all out for it and try to make it just as great as his was.

Kissing back, Ryou gave a soft purr. "Mm, thank you..." Resting his head on Malik's shoulder, he glanced down to the forgotten camera on the couch cushion. Reaching a hand down, he picked it up, wondering exactly how his pictures had come out. Switching modes, he smiled when he saw himself and Malik, up so close, kissing. These were pictures he was definitely not going to waste. Only two of the five or so were really good but that didn't matter; they were still memories and it was their first real picture that he could remember them being in together and for him, that meant something. "Some of them actually came out...pretty good!"

As his boyfriend leaned down to pick up his camera, Malik sat up a little, propping himself up on his elbow so he could see better. "Hey, you're right," he said, grinning. "And you were all worried that they were going to suck." He playfully ruffled Ryou's hair, giving the white strands a light tug. "I can take a couple of those into Photoshop and touch them up a little. Just to clarify them a little, maybe brighten them up... it'll be fine."

He looked up at the boy, smirking. "Don't worry if they're not perfect. Sometimes it takes more than one person to make something perfect."

"Well, I was more talking about when I wasn't shooting at random like that but yeah!" Closing an eye at the ruffle, he buried himself further into Malik's shoulder. "Mm, that'd be neat I suppose. As long as uhm...no other eyes see them, then that'd be kinda weird..." A light brush crept to his features at the thought. What if Malik or he had them posted up on their journals or myspaces? What would their friends say?

Nodding softly, he gave a slight shrug, further cuddling into his boyfriend. "I suppose so..."

Malik laughed a little, draping his other arm around Ryou's waist. "Yeah, I think our brothers would go into Too-Much-Info mode and poke fun at us about how we're complete saps. Or something." He shook his head in exasperation, imagining Marik, Bakura, and Diabound just pointing and laughing at them. "Y'know, if we are, then we're really sexy about it. But hey... people don't really have any business seeing what goes on in our private life, so I don't plan on showing anyone if you don't."

"Or just be disturbed because secretly, our private life is naughtier than theirs?" Laughing at this, Ryou had to shake his head. The day he became more extreme than either Bakura or Diabound was the day of the Apocalypse. Besides, taking pictures of a kiss, it wasn't exactly sexy, was it? Pondering over the photo in his head, he did think looking at it kind-of turned him on a little...

So maybe it wasn't that bland? Either way, it was definitely for his own satisfaction and no one else's. Shifting positions, Ryou rummaged on Malik's lap, letting himself fall back against the sofa arm instead of sitting altogether on Malik. Besides, then maybe Malik would catch his drift and come to lay beside him? Stretching over, Ryou placed the camera atop the table to keep it safe, not wanting to risk smashing it somehow by laying on it. "I think...keeping that to you and me is just fine..."

Malik nodded and shifted around a bit, arranging himself next to his boyfriend. He hooked one of his legs around Ryou's, leaning over to place a kiss on the boy's cheek as he snuggled up next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Yeah... I'm fine with that. I'd actually rather it be that way... that way, I'm the only one who knows how sexy you can be."

He was very happy when Malik changed positions to lay down beside him. If he could've imagined a perfect way to spend a birthday, this would definitely have been ideal. Smiling at the kiss, Ryou closed his eyes and just hugged onto Malik close, nails lightly etching their way over one of his shoulders. "I don't know if I'd call myself...uhm...'sexy' but...I only like you to know... I only want to be this way for you so that only you can enjoy it as much as I do..." Giving a low purr, he let himself relax, deciding maybe a quick nap wouldn't be so bad before he begged his boyfriend to feed his hungry belly. That could wait - right now, he just wanted to be next to Malik.

And next to Malik he would remain, because Malik didn't plan on moving for a while.

Letter to all students!

Thu, 21 Sep 2006 00:18:33 GMT

On the 27th of September, each student currently registered at Domino Uni should have received a thick package containing a letter, a list of items, and a school badge, generously provided gratis.

Letter to all students.

List of apparel needed:

1. Kilt Shirt, in white .
2. Super-Ultra Mini-Kilt . 10", females only. Loch Ness tartan.
3. Sport Kilt . Male only, to be worn for everyday clases. Loch Ness tartan.

Acceptable footwear are black boots, thigh high for extra warmth. Knee/thigh-high socks are recommended, as are black suit jackets. Leather jackets, sweaters, sweatervests, jumpers, 'hoodies' or anything of that ilk will not be tolerated. Caps of all sorts are banned, as are hats and all forms of jewelry. Students on financial aid will have the uniform sent to them.

Fri, 25 Aug 2006 03:05:09 GMT

Characters: Malik [scarred_bronze], ~~someone who isn't Ryou for once BUT IS STILL ONE OF THE BAKURAE~~ Diabound [goldenfetish], and Yusra [NPC]

Rating: PG-13 for snark and probably some potty language.

Summary: While out doing grocery shopping, Malik happens to run into Diabound. Like all friends who haven't spoken to each other in a hella long time, they catch up a tiny bit and poke fun at each others' lives ~~or lack thereof~~.

Usually, whenever Malik was off work, he was at home lounging around with his boyfriend. And sometimes they were doing a lot more than just lounging. Although this time, there was no lounging-and-then-some to be done yet, because Malik's apartment currently lacked one thing: food.

This explained why he was pushing a shopping cart through the produce section, looking more than a little irritated. This could've been because the price on daikon radishes had been upped to five hundred yen each, though the fact that he was not at home with Ryou was probably more likely.

Oh well. The faster he got his shopping done, the faster he could get home.

The only reason Diabound was out doing the grocery shopping was that Mahaado had developed enough of a backbone to force him out to purchase his own diapers (and then of course, on the way out, had added that Diabound should pick up one or two things and thrusted a list in his hands). So now, that left him pushing the cart with one hand and holding Yusra, the giggly little devil she was, with the other.

He turned down the produce aisle, struggling to glance at the list he'd put in the cart and then deciding that he didn't care enough to buy anything but what he wanted to eat, and possibly a few things for Yusra. After all, Mahaado was a big boy. He could do his own shopping.

"Dada~" Yusra grinned, tugging on the fabric of Diabound's shirt. The elder man grunted, but paid no further attention to her.

Holding back a frustrated sigh, Malik decided to bypass the daikon for one week - despite that he was liable to go through withdrawal without it in his salads - and continued down the aisle. He started to stop next to where the cabbage was, but a flash of white hair caught his eye.

He looked up, spying a familiar face a bit further down the aisle. "Well, look who it is," Malik called, pushing his cart down to where Diabound was. "You come here often, or is this a one-time thing?"

Diabound glanced over to Malik, smirk on his lips. "I have to eat, too, you know," he informed the other, "but no -- I originally only came here for diapers." He wouldn't add that Mahaado was the reason the rest of the items were in his cart.

Yusra cooed, blue eyes obviously focused on Malik's earrings, a smile on her lips. "Dada!" She reached out to grab the earrings, but Diabound held her back (not that Malik was close enough that she could have reached, but he wasn't about to risk dropping her).

Malik blinked for a moment and eyed Yusra, then tugged his hair in front of his ears, effectively hiding the gold earrings from view. ~~His earlobes throbbed just looking at her.~~ "By the look of your shopping cart, I'm guessing you were roped into getting more than just diapers," he said with a smirk, leaning against his cart. "Groceries aside, how are things? How many nights have you gone without sleep in the last week?"

Diabound snorted at the other's reaction, but refrained from commenting. "How are things?" he repeated idly, watching from the corner of his eye and Yusra gave a disappointed huff and rested her head on his shoulder. Well, at least she hadn't started crying. "Fine. I haven't slept decently since Ryou last babysat her, but that's not entirely Yusra's fault."

Raising an eyebrow at his response, Malik reached into the icebox and grabbed a decent-looking head of cabbage, stuffing it into a plastic bag. "Oh really?" he asked, trying to block any images of owls from his head. "I'd ask, but I'm probably better off not knowing." ... Or he'd just draw his own conclusions, which was just as bad.

Diabound shrugged his shoulders. "Probably are," he replied, stifling a yawn. Yusra followed suit and yawned as well. "Good, maybe she'll fall asleep by the time we get home," Diabound murmured, mostly to himself. "So, what about you? What have you been doing?" Then with a sly smirk, he added, "Other than my brother, of course."

It took Malik a second to respond to that; his face flushed a bit, and he averted his eyes from Diabound, giving an idle cough. "Um. Y'know. Working, spending time with Ryou, all of that stuff." 'Spending time' had several connotations of its own, but he decided to spare Diabound from any... unnecessary mental images.

Diabound just gave a slight scoff and nodded. "How exciting." He gave the shelf an idle eye, seeing nothing that he particularly wanted. "So, Ryou has you doing the grocery shopping?" he teased.

"Not exactly," Malik said, moving down the aisle a bit to eye some carrots. "I do my own shopping anyway. I'm just shopping for two at the moment."

"Not exactly?" Diabound grunted as Yusra tiredly grasped his hair, tiny fingers wrapping around his silver strands with strength that a child should not have. "Well, whatever. I could care less."

"Hey, you asked." Malik shrugged and picked up a bundle of the carrots, tossing them in his basket. He looked over at Yusra, smirking a little as she tugged on her dad's hair. "She does that to everyone, doesn't she? Or just those with white hair?"

"Everyone, from what I can tell," Diabound snickered with a light shrug, trying to work her fingers from his hair. "Did you not have this trouble with her?" Of course, chances were, Malik hadn't gotten close to Yusra while Ryou was watching her, but hey, one never knows.

Malik smirked. "Ryou definitely did, but she tended to go for my earrings instead. Which is a lot more painful." He made doubly sure to keep his earrings well-hidden behind his hair, lest Yusra - or Diabound - get any ideas.

"Mm, it's a shame she didn't get ahold of them then. I might have been able to get a little money," Diabound replied with a grin.

"Yeah, but then I'd just have you get me some new ones." Not like he didn't have any other pairs, but those were his favorites. Plus it would be amusing to see if he'd actually get them.

"That'd work out well," Diabound snorted. Yusra gave her own squeal in response, squirming out to turn and look at Malik, apparently just then recalling they weren't alone.

"Dada?" she spoke, turning her head back to her father. Diabound paid no attention to her.

"... She's just off in her own little world, isn't she?" Malik asked, raising an eyebrow.

Diabound gave his daughter a skeptical glance and then replied, "Yes, though I wish she'd stay there."

"Don't we all." Malik let out a snort, rolling his eyes. He glanced down at his watch, then his shopping cart. "I should probably finish up and get back home before Ryou starts to think I died or something."

Diabound nodded, half wondering if his brother had already drawn said conclusions, given how much he worried, but deciding to not say anything. "Alright. Tell him I said hello."

"Will do," Malik agreed, giving him a nod in return. "Try not to kill your kid or something, okay?"

Diabound snickered. "We'll see," he replied with a wave, before turning back to his cart.

Malik waved back and started heading down the aisle again, feeling a bit better about the shopping - and much more amused.

Thu, 10 Aug 2006 08:31:36 GMT

Characters: Ryou [__sarak], Malik [scarred_bronze]

Rating: NC-17 for m/m sex, and lots of it. 8| ~~Shoot us now.~~

Summary: Takes place back after Ryou drew his little picture for Malik, in which Varon and Shaadah piss Malik off like crazy. ;D Ryou decides to offer Malik some stress relief; one thing leads to another, and then another, and yet another... and all while Ryou's little niece is asleep in the next room.

Part one is here. Because it is impossible for us to do a log that doesn't require two posts, apparently.

Blinking confusedly, Ryou stared at the other. He didn't understand how Malik could always be so forgiving and gentle with him even when he did something wrong. It just didn't make sense; shouldn't Malik have been mad or at least a little irritated about the marks upon his back? After all, they were a little deep. Frowning as the other kissed him, he still felt a little horrible for it. Next time he had to pay more attention to his actions and be gentler.

"Hmm?" Nodding aptly, Malik let Ryou take his wrist, not wanting to get his bloody fingers upon the male. Even if it was Malik's blood, it was still a little cruel to make someone have to hold hands with someone disgusting. Following Malik, he hopped off the bed and led the way down to the bathroom. Peeking into his Dad's bedroom to check on Yusra, he gave a slight smile when he found her to still be asleep. 'Good', he thought. After all, there was no way he could take care of her this messy. Flicking on the light, he let go of Malik to go and wash his hands first. "I'm still sorry about that. I mean...I really didn't mean to..."

"I've been through worse," Malik said, kicking the door shut. "It's just a couple of flesh wounds." He turned his back to the mirror, trying to look at them over his shoulder. "We'll clean them off, slap a couple of band-aids on them, and they'll be just fine."

He smirked and walked up behind Ryou, pressing a soft kiss to his bare shoulder. "Besides," he breathed huskily, moving up to Ryou's ear, "I like it rough."

Nodding softly, Ryou vigorously rubbed his hands with soap and water. Even if Malik said that, he still felt a bit embarrassed he couldn't help himself and keep his body under control. Sighing, he only perked up when he felt warm arms curl around him, unable to keep himself from giving a small smile. Purring as the kiss was pressed to his skin, Ryou leaned back, eyes closing. Malik liked it rough? So did that mean their first time, when Ryou had been so subtle and confused, that hadn't been as good? Either way, it didn't matter. Next time he'd just try his hardest to give Malik exactly what he wanted.

"Then...was that even good enough?" Now that he thought about it, he was pretty sure Malik hadn't even-did that mean Ryou had been right before in him not thinking he was attractive? Maybe something Ryou did was annoying or was really not attractive to see. Trying his hardest not to appear too worried, he didn't look at the other and instead left his hold to go and start the water. What if Malik really didn't think he was good looking after all?

As Ryou left him to go turn on the water, Malik blinked after him, frowning slightly. He looked like he was a little bit worried about something. Had Malik said something wrong? "It was good," he replied, waiting for the water to come on before stepping into the shower. "But then, everything I do with you is good... and really, I was trying to please you. I wasn't focused on whether I was feeling good or not, because you'd already taken care of that."

Malik rubbed his hands together as the water gradually started warming up. He let out a sigh, eyes closing in relaxation for a few moments, before opening them and looking down at Ryou, a content smile on his face. "Don't worry about that, Ry... every moment I spend with you is enjoyable, whether it's rough sex or just sitting there cuddling with you," he said, blushing faintly. Guh, he sounded so cheesy sometimes.

As Malik spoke, he listened intently. Still, even know Malik said it was all about him, he still felt a bit awkward for not even being able to make Malik as happy as he had been. Sure the boy had climaxed before that but Ryou just felt like he could've done a better job and made the boy do it twice. After all, wasn't that only fair? "I know but...I just wish I could've made you feel as good as I had. That's all. I feel kind-of guilty for not giving you what I could've..." Stepping into the shower, Ryou walked under the water, letting his hands weave through his hair, washing all of the sweat out of it.

Reaching for the shampoo, Ryou poured a small amount out onto his hand, rubbing it into his white locks. Hands lifting, he gave a soft smile and dabbed suds onto the tip of the other's nose before reaching up to shampoo his hair as well. "And I love every moment we spend together too but...I just think I should be able to feel good enough like that all the time. I just feel like...I'm selfish or something. I would've rather had you happy instead of me..."

"Mm." Malik leaned down a bit so he could have better reach - their difference in height was at least five inches. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of Ryou's fingers running through his hair. "But that would've just made me feel selfish, since I'd have came twice as opposed to you only doing it once," he murmured, reaching up to rinse some of the soap out of Ryou's hair. If there was one thing that Malik especially loved about his boyfriend, it was his hair; it was so long and fluffy, and was always soft to the touch.

As his hand threaded through white strands, the other one rested on Ryou's hip, thumb gently stroking the skin. "If you're really that concerned about it, you could finish me off here. If you want to, I mean." Even though it had been a few minutes, Malik was still quite aroused, if only because of their current activity. "It's really okay."

Blushing a little at Malik's words, he gave his head a light shake. "It's not really the same though. I mean, well...uhm-I just...I don't know. I feel lousy if you don't enjoy the sex as much as I did," he mumbled softly, one hand falling to settle at Malik's side. Even if Malik didn't care, well, it still didn't make him feel any less terrible about it. After all, it -had- felt so good for him, hadn't Malik felt the same? Maybe he just always let himself go too early before Malik even had the chance; oh, that was so embarrassing. He couldn't even control himself!

"WHA-" Pausing to flush heavily, Ryou turned his head away so Malik couldn't see his cherry hued face. Why did Malik have to phrase it like -that-? Stepping forward to cuddle into his boyfriend's shoulder, Ryou closed soft eyes, nudging his warm, damp nose against Malik's tanned skin. "O-Only if you want me to..." he whispered softly, hugging himself a bit closer to the other, suddenly feeling a little warm on the inside again, like before.

His hands continued to weave through Ryou's hair, though now it was more out of affection than getting the soap out. "Ryou, I did enjoy it," Malik said, resting his chin atop the shorter boy's head, "if only because I could just be close to you like that. It's not always about climaxing or anything, even though it does feel nice... but just to be able to do something that intimate with the person you're in love with. That's what it's like to me, anyway."

Malik couldn't help but chuckle a little at Ryou's reaction. He wrapped his arms around his lover's waist, holding him closely. "If it would make you feel better, then I want you to. I'd still love you if you didn't."

Unable to keep from showing his pleasure at the hands running through his white locks, he let out a light purr, nudging against the other. He couldn't help but feel cuddly right now. Even though they'd only done it a few times, every time after, Ryou always felt so needy, like he'd die if Malik wasn't near to hug on him. "I..." he paused, going over in his head with what Malik had told him. It made sense, what Malik said. Feeling horrible because he had been wrong, one of Ryou's arms fell to his sides. It shouldn't have only been about the pleasure but about being able to do it in the first place and being so close and intimate with someone you absolutely adored. That enough should've been able to make a person happy and now that Ryou saw it his way, he supposed it was really enough and it made him overjoyed to know that Malik thought about him like that. Over and over, Malik always found new ways to make Ryou feel like the luckiest person alive.

Lifting his head, absolutely beaming, Ryou kissed Malik forcefully, giving in all his love into that kiss. "Mm," he murmured softly, laughing some when he heard Malik do the same. "I...think you're right. I'm sorry I was so silly about it. I think it's enough too, just to be able to make each other feel like that and so happy!" Leaning up to kiss at Malik's temple, Ryou gave a shrug. "It really is up to you though..." Taking his hand, Ryou ran dainty fingers in between them, grazing finger pads over Malik's groin. "I love you all the same either way."

When the kiss broke off, Malik leaned his head forward, forehead resting on Ryou's shoulder. He closed his eyes, letting the water rinse the soap from his hair. "Go ahead, then," he mumbled, pressing his lips against Ryou's wet neck. His hands ran up and down the other's back as he let out a quiet groan at the light strokes. "You really are silly sometimes, Ry. But that's part of your charm."

As his neck was kissed, Ryou let out the softest little mewl, an arm encircling around the other male tightly. When he heard his boyfriend groan, something inside Ryou flickered; suddenly that dominating power he had felt earlier began to reside within him again. Smiling a little darkly, he went in and began to kiss along Malik's neck, moaning against the tanned skin just because he knew the sounds would help Malik along the way. Hand cupping the other's growing erection, Ryou began to teasingly stroke it along, letting out mewls every now and again just to excite the other. "And you're so irresistible sometimes, but that's just part of how sexy you are. Mm, Malik..."

Pressing himself up more against the male, he began to stroke the other's erection even harder now, coaxing it. He just had to have the other at his knees one more time before he could truly be alright. The only problem was this, sadly, was making him just as hot and bothered as before.

Malik lifted his head to look Ryou in the eyes, reaching up to brush wet blonde bangs out of his eyes. "Ryou..." Taking the smaller boy by the shoulders, he turned around a bit, pressing Ryou up against the wall of the shower stall. He gazed at the other intensely for a moment before roughly pressing their lips together. Malik let out another groan, attempting to thrust into Ryou's hand; the steam from the shower was making his mind a bit foggy - or was it just clouded with lust?

As soon as their eyes met, Ryou knew something was different. Caught up in the intense stare, Ryou's hand halted moving and he suddenly was lost in a pair of extremely lavender hues, cheeks flushing, feeling unbearably lucid under that stare. A high pitched moan left him as he was slammed up against the wall, arm clinging around the male's neck. God, his heart was beating so fast; was this what Malik meant by rough because right now, Ryou felt extremely turned on by the male's actions.

When a mouth pressed against his own, another whimper left and he kissed back just as fervently, tongue attempting to fight with Malik's to win and take over Malik's mouth, tasting all of his boyfriend he possibly could. Lifting a leg, he attempted to curl it around Malik's waist, wanting to be pressed up as close to Malik as he possibly could. Fingers stroking up and down Malik's shaft, he was having such a dilemma right now struggling with all of Malik's actions. He wanted Malik so badly right now but then again, he wanted to just please Malik. Would Malik be mad if...? But he wanted it so badly right then. Moaning, he lifted his head and let it drag out until he met Malik's wet ear, dragging his tongue against the sensitive inner skin. "Please, Malik...need you again, r-right now. Want you i-in me..." It was so hard to say, even a little mortifying, but it's what he really wanted; he wanted to feel that again and be able to satisfy both of them at the exact same time.

Malik bit his lip and held in another groan as he felt Ryou's breath against his ear; Ryou may have been embarrassed about this situation, but damn he knew how to be sexy while he was embarrassed. Ryou did have a point with his suggestion as well - he could satisfy them both at the same time, and then they'd be even. Malik disentangled himself from the smaller boy before turning him around, so that his chest was pressed up against Ryou's back.

Leaning down to nibble at Ryou's shoulder, one of Malik's arms tightly clutched the boy around the waist as the other hand slid up toward his chest. "Nnh, Ryou..." He ground his hips into the body beneath him, reaching up to lightly pinch at one of Ryou's nubs. He pulled away from his boyfriend slightly, only to slowly push himself back into the other a second later. "Anything you want, love," Malik breathed, giving his ear a light suckle.

Ryou followed Malik's lead, turning back up against the wall. Pressing himself up against it hard, he braced himself for what was to come. As soon as the other pressed up against him, his body temperature seemed to rise, just being able to be so close to the male. It was almost too much just to be able to be this close to Malik, really. "Mm, Malik..." he breathed, eyes closing as his nose stayed pressed up against the wall, just waiting for the treat that was about to be unwrapped for the both of them.

Purring at the nibbles, Ryou leaned back into the male's touch some, wanting more. He really couldn't wait for it to go on further. Just thinking about him made him want to shake; he couldn't wait to have Malik have him again. It was weird how someone could be so scared of something but then suddenly love it only seconds later. Moaning as hips pressed up against his backside, Ryou opened up hazed eyes and stared up to the ceiling at nothing, beginning to fully indulge in the pleasure. "Ahn, only you," he lulled back, giving a whine at the suckle.

Soon after he'd pressed himself inside his boyfriend again, Malik began to thrust - it was somewhat easier this time, given that they'd only done this a short time before. That and the fact that he was still so aroused from their previous activities that he could barely hold himself back.

He held Ryou tightly as he moved, arm braced just under the other's chest; Malik trailed several nips down his neck as he reached down, starting to stroke Ryou's length. Their current position wasn't the most comfortable, but he didn't care. Malik wasn't about to take it elsewhere and further delay it when Ryou had asked for it so kindly.

As soon as Malik began to thrust in him, Ryou let out a loud scream. His body pressed forcefully against the wall and his mind found itself begging for more of the other's touches, wanting to be drenched in the feel of Malik. It was so hot suddenly, especially under the lucid water pouring in from the shower. Even through the humid temperatures, all Ryou could think about was his boyfriend and getting more affection. In a way, it made him feel selfish, yet it was a selfish he knew his boyfriend enjoyed.

His head crooked back as nips were trailed up and down his flesh, only making Ryou moan for the other more. "Ahn, Malik..!" Having to work hard to keep his body in it's upright position, Ryou began to grow frustrated. All he could think about doing was falling back, lust taking over his body, making him unable to control his movements. He only hoped the other wasn't feeling the same because the wall and Malik were the only thing keeping Ryou stable.

Finishing off with another small bite to the neck, Malik leaned his head forward, chin resting on Ryou's shoulder as he continued his movements. He pressed up against his boyfriend as closely as he could, tightly clutching the smaller boy. He hoped that he wasn't hurting Ryou - he was pressed up against the wall pretty closely - but the screams of pleasure coming from Ryou made him think otherwise.

Malik's breathing grew rather labored as he buried himself as far as he could go inside the other. As hot as it was getting inside the shower, he was really hoping that they wouldn't pass out before finishing up; that would just suck. But even with that thought in mind, Malik quickened his pace, eager to please his lover as much as possible.

As the biting stopped, Ryou rested his head back on Malik, letting his eyes close so he could just focus on the activity at hand. His body only wanted to sink further, wanting to rest against Malik further to feel the male deep inside of him.

He was beginning to feel a little bit dizzy thanks to the heat but then again, it was possible it was just the astonishing feeling inside of him growing. Letting out another moan, he attempted to thrust along, wanting to press his lover in even further to hit against -just- the right spot to make both of them be satisfied.

Malik paused in his thrusting to tug Ryou up some; the boy had slipped down slightly, making it difficult to get a good angle. Once he'd pulled Ryou back up, he started moving again, continuing to stroke Ryou's erection. He wasn't sure how far along his boyfriend was, but as aroused as he was, Malik didn't think he'd be able to last much longer. "N-nnnnh, Ryou..."

As he was held back up, Malik slipped in to a better position, making Ryou squirm with delight. The further it pressed in, the better it felt and the more it both relieved and drove Ryou crazier. Thirsting for more, Ryou tried to keep himself at a level position so Malik could get the best access possible. As soon as his erection was stroked, Ryou could feel the climax coming on. A few more simple touches like that and he would almost be there again, thanks to his boyfriend's sensual touches. "Oh, Malik..!"

As he felt his own climax rapidly approaching, Malik lifted his head from the other's shoulder, leaning in to lick at Ryou's ear. His strokes and thrusts sped up again, and for a second, Malik felt like the steam was getting to his head - however, he kept his pace, knowing it was entirely too late to stop now. They were both so close; it would be downright cruel to stop now, even if the heat was overwhelming by this point.

"Oh!" he mewled, body quivering as his ear was lapped at, making him want to writhe in pleasure. Ryou was so hot and bothered by all of Malik's actions, he really wasn't sure how he was even holding up. Pressing himself back into Malik again, Ryou tried to lean in against the wall and let Malik penetrate him as deeply as possible, making him whine for more. He was so close currently; only a little more stimulation and he was sure to give out any second.

By this point, Malik was pretty impressed - Ryou seemed to be holding out a bit longer than he had the last couple of times. This was actually pretty pleasing; it meant there was more pleasure and more fun for the both of them. Tongue trailing along Ryou's ear, he reached up with his free hand to graze his fingers across a nipple. He was thrusting in time with his strokes, and now it was only a matter of time before they were both sent over the top.

At the trailing of the tongue, Ryou let out a heavy moan, falling back against his boyfriend again. The pressure within him was growing to extremes. He couldn't even believe he was holding out this long, truthfully. Usually, he would've already been gone! Maybe it was partially from the heat and the slightly dizzy air that seemed to be revolving around him. Either way, he was cracking, second by second. Before he even knew what was happening, he was letting himself go, falling back against his boyfriend with a soft cry. "M-Malik..!"

Once he felt Ryou tense up around him, that was about all that Malik could take, and after a few more thrusts, he was losing himself as well. His knees buckled slightly as the wave of intensity crashed down over him; he braced himself against the wall with an arm, the other still clutching Ryou around the waist.

He stood there silently for a few moments, just content with holding his boyfriend until he snapped back into reality and realized just how hot it was in the tiny room. Pulling himself out again, Malik reached over to turn the water down a bit, so that it flowed cool instead of hot. It was actually rather soothing after what they'd just done. "Mm... love you," he purred, gently nuzzling Ryou's neck.

With Malik pressed up against him, blocking his airways, it was a bit harder to breath, making him feel a little bit sick with the heat. He felt especially dizzy now that most of his energy was drained from him. Gasping for breath, his eyes closed as the other finally pulled out and gave him a bit of space. At the words, Ryou smiled and leant up to give the other male a soft kiss, along with a nod.

"Mm, love you too," he said happily back, now able to use his legs again, taking a step away into the cold water a bit more just so he could cool himself down. Grabbing for the body soap, he poured a small amount into his palm and began to lather himself, stepping backwards to be out of the water a bit more. "You know, right after I get out, I'll be exhausted and then Yusra will wake up, right?" he asked, giving a soft laugh.

"...oh yeah, with our luck, that's exactly what'll happen." Malik rolled his eyes, but then a grin formed on his face. He was too happy at the moment to let something like that get to him. "It shouldn't be too hard to get her back to sleep though, right?" he asked, reaching for a washcloth and some of the soap.

He scrubbed at himself for a couple of minutes, making sure to get thoroughly clean, but he paused, frowning as he got to his back. "...can you get my back, Ry? I can't quite reach it." Malik turned around, revealing the short trails of blood from where Ryou had clawed his back earlier.

Shaking his head, Ryou gave a slight smirk. "No, wrong. She's been napping, you can't just force her back to sleep. She'll probably be up a few hours before she even thinks of napping." Rubbing the soap up and down his arms, he stepped beneath the water to rinse himself, ridding him of the sweat from earlier.

"Of course I can!" he chimed, turning around to find Malik's back. He frowned naturally when he saw the damage he had done. "Ack..." Gently, he soaped beneath and above the cuts, keeping a right mind to cleanse the wound after they got out with something that was antibacterial and meant for cuts. "That looks so horrid. I hope it doesn't hurt that bad," he commented, gently washing the skin off, pressing soft kisses against Malik's shoulder blades when he was officially cleansed of the suds.

"Nnn..." Malik leaned into the light touches, smiling at Ryou in gratitude when he was finished. "I'll live," he said, winking slightly. "It'll scab over and it'll be fine. I'm not gonna die from a couple of scratches I got during sex with my boyfriend." He turned around to wrap his arms around Ryou again, pressing a light kiss to his forehead.

"I know! I didn't say you were going to die, just wanted to make sure they were taken care of is all," he countered, giving a slight pout. Had he really been that annoyingly worried over it? He didn't think he was being unrealistic, at least. Mewling at the kiss, Ryou gave a small smile, tilting his own head up to kiss Malik's nose tip. "Don't be so cruel. You know it's only because I worry about you so much!"

Malik chuckled a little before stepping into the stream of water, rinsing the rest of the soap off. "I know, and I'm glad you care so much. I really am. And I know they'll be taken care of as long as you're here." He flashed another smile at Ryou, reaching out to stroke his cheek. "So when we get done here, we can get them all cleaned with disinfectant, and get some band-aids on them, and all will be well. Okay?"

Nuzzling against the hand, he gave a small smile and nodded. "Sounds good to me!" As soon as he was completely rinsed off, he stepped out of the tub, hurrying over to grab two towels. Wrapping one around his waist, he toddled over to Malik and set one atop the toilet seat for when the male was finished. "I'm going to go and get some clean clothes, okay?"

"Okay." Shortly after Ryou got out of the shower, Malik turned the water off, stepping out as well. He took the other towel and wrapped it around himself before heading back into Ryou's room to get some clean clothes. "Mm... that felt good, huh?" Malik thought so - in more ways than one.

After leaving the bathroom, Ryou had gone down to his bedroom to find new, clean clothes. Heading straight for his dresser, he wasn't exactly surprised to find most of them empty since all his stuff was at Malik's. Grabbing a striped polo, boxers, and a pair of jeans and socks, he began his journey to get dressed, done within a few seconds. Just when Malik had entered, he had finished putting on his final sock. "Mm, hey you! And of course it did, dummy!" Laughing, he picked a pillow up off his bed and tossed it at his boyfriend.

"So, did you need some clothes to use? I don't know if you'd like mine the best or anything but uhm...I can always go search my Brother's rooms for something you'd like better?" He offered, standing up and padding over to the other, wrapping his arms lightly around him. "I don't really think I've ever had a shower that good though..."

Blocking the pillow that was thrown at him, Malik let out a laugh, shooting a halfhearted glare at the other. "Tch, cheap shot, getting me while I'm wearing nothing but a towel~." He stuck his tongue out for Ryou before shaking his head, a grin on his face.

As his boyfriend approached him, he wrapped an arm around Ryou's waist, the other one holding his towel up. "I dunno how well I could fit in your clothes. I'd probably stretch them out," Malik said, leaning down to kiss the tip of Ryou's nose, "so maybe if you can find something of Bakura's... I think we're pretty close in size. I really should've brought more clothes than I did."

"Well, sadly it's probably the only time I'd ever have half a chance at actually hitting you with it." And that was true enough. Ryou never had really been one for sports of any kind. Anything athletic tended not to be something Ryou excelled at.

Smiling at Malik's comment, he gave a playful roll of his eyes. "I doubt that. You aren't that much bigger but okay, I'll go scour Bakura's room just for you!" Purring at the nose kiss, he daintily pressed a soft peck to the corner of Malik's mouth before running off, heading upstairs to his brother's room. Searching the bedroom, it didn't take him long to find a pair of black pants and a dark hued shirt to go along with it. Grabbing a pair of socks, he then toddled back down the stairs, rushing back to Malik to give him the clothing. "Here! I hope this works out okay."

Malik grinned and nodded, taking the clothes. "Thanks, these'll work," he said, starting to get dressed - making sure to pick up the boxers he'd been wearing before, because that'd just be weird if he went commando in someone else's pants...

He started to pull the shirt on, but then paused, remembering the scratches on his back. "Oh yeah... did you want to get those cleaned? Probably should do that before the shirt." Malik looked over his shoulder, trying to see the cuts. "Don't wanna get your brother's shirt all bloodied up, now."

"You sure?" he asked, just to make sure. Turning his head to give the other privacy, he went to go and jump on his own bed, curling up in a tired little ball. Even without the sex, he was a bit exhausted from Yusra, having to be up and keep her entertained, even at odd morning hours. Giving a soft yawn, he let his eyes close, waiting for his boyfriend to hopefully join him.

"Huh?" Lifting his head, worn eyes gazed to the lacerations on Malik's back. He had completely forgotten about those! Hopping up from the bed, he dashed past his boyfriend to the bathroom to find exactly what he needed. Bending down to the sink cabinet, he opened up the door and searched out some hydrogen peroxide and Neosporin. Once he found what he needed, he headed to the towel closet to find himself something he could use to apply the stuff to Malik's back. "I'm sorry! I forgot all about those!" he apologized, making his way back to the bedroom to find his boyfriend.

Malik had situated himself on Ryou's bed, sitting with his legs crossed. Once the other boy re-entered the room, he looked up, flashing a smile at him. "It's okay," he said, "no harm done." He looked over his shoulder again, but like the several times he'd tried before, he couldn't see them.

"Are they still bleeding? I can't really tell..." Truthfully, they had started to sting a tiny bit, but he wasn't going to tell Ryou that, lest his boyfriend start worrying and blaming himself for it again. It wasn't entirely Ryou's fault; he'd just gotten caught up in the heat of the moment.

"If you say so," he said back softly, walking across the room to seat himself upon the bed. Once on the bed, he crawled over behind Malik and began to let everything fall from his arms, eyeing the cut with regret. Even if it wasn't entirely his fault, he didn't like to see his boyfriend hurting any.

Shaking his head, Ryou grabbed the hydrogen peroxide and a napkin, and poured some onto the napkin, soaking it. Dabbing it over the little abrasions, Ryou made sure to get off any leftover dried blood. Once he was done, he tossed the napkin into his garbage and undid the Neosporin. Taking a small amount onto another tissue, Ryou wiped the cream onto Malik's back, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. "There, that should hopefully clear it up a bit by tomorrow." Setting the medicine aside, letting it fall to the floor, he bounced and fell back onto his bed, sprawling out across it. "Mm, you wore me out today..."

Malik flinched a tiny bit as the peroxide made contact with the scratches, but he made no other indications that it hurt at all. He simply grit his teeth and waited patiently for Ryou to get done; once he finished, he tugged Bakura's t-shirt on, then laid down next to Ryou, draping an arm around his waist. "Thanks," he said, brushing a quick kiss against his cheek in gratitude.

He propped his head up on his elbow, looking down at his boyfriend. "Did you like it?" Malik asked, a curious expression on his face. "I mean, I know the sex takes a while to get used to, but... was it enjoyable?"

Smiling happily, Ryou gave a soft purr and nestled close to Malik, draping an arm around him. "Welcome, of course," he said, leaning in to take a quick peck at his chin. He wasn't sure Malik really needed to thank him. It was Ryou's job to take care of him, being his boyfriend and all.

Peering up to Malik, Ryou began to trace his fingers over the male's lower back. "Hmm?" Blushing slightly, Ryou gave a little nod, eyes closing as he came in to lay down a bit closer to the male. "Yes...a lot actually. It was...really good, just like everything with you turns out to be." Not to mention it was exciting, for Ryou anyway. Never in a million years did he think he would ever do something so risqué.

"Mm..." Malik let out a soft sigh as Ryou cuddled closer to him, smiling at how warm he was. Latching one of his legs around Ryou's, Malik lay down completely, curling up against the smaller boy's side. "Good. I want you to feel good... I guess you could consider it sort of a thank-you for putting up with me," he joked, resting his forehead in the crook of Ryou's neck. "...or just another way to show how much I love you. Your pick."

Giving a soft murmur, he let Malik's leg wrap around him, feeling even more comfortable than before, now that he was even closer to the male. "Mm as well," he countered back, tiredly hugging the other a bit closer, letting his eyes close again, resting them. "My 'thank you' is sex?" Laughing, Ryou peeked an eye open to peer to the other, smiling adoringly. "Well, uhm, if it is supposed to be a gift, I guess thank you?" He sighed happily when Malik got even closer, eyes shutting exhaustedly again. "I think I like it better if it's given to me 'cause you love me. I don't think it's a very good gift because who knows? You could be giving that a gift to anyone who put up with you!"

Malik would've smacked his forehead if it wasn't currently buried in the other's neck. Instead, he settled for a snort and a wry smirk. "Ooookay, let me rephrase that," he said, lifting his head to look down at Ryou. "I mean like... making you happy and making you feel good is in return for making me feel that way." His face flushed faintly, but he shook it off, leaning down to lightly peck the corner of Ryou's mouth. "But I agree, giving it because I love you is a better reason."

"Alright." Waiting to hear this rephrasing, Ryou picked up his hand to begin to run his fingers through Malik's hair instead. It was still a bit damp but that didn't keep it from being any less soft to the touch. "Well, either way, thank you. I enjoyed it..." Peering up into the other's eyes, a soft yawn escaped him. "Mm..." Taking a small kiss back for himself, he wrapped his a arm over the other's shoulder. "And a reason I'm very happy for since I love you just as much."

Smiling brightly, Malik leaned down to give Ryou another kiss - a longer one this time. After pulling back, he situated himself against Ryou's side again, nuzzling into his boyfriend's shoulder. "You look tired, Ry. I guess between me and Yusra, you must be completely spent... you should probably try to get some rest, before she wakes up."

Kissing back, Ryou let out a soft little moan, just to let Malik know how much he enjoyed it. Hugging the male close, he smiled as his shoulder was nuzzled. It was too bad every day couldn't have been this nice. "Mm...I want to but are you even tired? I'd feel bad leaving you awake here by yourself..."

Malik nodded a little, snuggling closer. He was a little tired, now that Ryou had mentioned it, but he knew the other boy had to be even more so, given that he'd been babysitting in addition to all they'd done. "Yeah... I could use a short nap too, I think. But even if I wasn't tired, I'd go and grab my laptop and stay here with you in case you need a pillow or something," he said, eyes closing.

"Yeah, I know but..." Letting out a deep breath, he further snuggled into the other, getting comfortable to the point of no return. His eyes felt so heavy and all he could think about was letting himself relax and nod off. "Still, I should be entertaining you or something if you weren't tired..." Nudging against Malik, he gave him a slight hug. "Mm, love you..."

"It's okay, Ry, don't worry about it," Malik said, returning the hug. "Just get some rest, and I'll stay here with you." He pressed one last kiss against Ryou's jaw, holding him closely. "Love you too."

Nodding, Ryou listened to his boyfriend and took his words to heart. Almost immediately, he was halfway there to sleep, all huddled up warm and close to Malik. "Mmph..." One last murmur and he went silent. Within the next couple of minutes, Ryou was out like a light.

Thu, 10 Aug 2006 08:30:39 GMT

Characters: Ryou [__sarak], Malik [scarred_bronze]

Rating: NC-17 for m/m sex, and lots of it. 8| ~~Shoot us now.~~

Summary: Takes place back after Ryou drew his little picture for Malik, in which Varon and Shaadah piss Malik off like crazy. ;D Ryou decides to offer Malik some stress relief; one thing leads to another, and then another, and yet another... and all while Ryou's little niece is asleep in the next room.

Part two is here.

As soon as he finished writing up his last comments to Ryou, Malik shut down his laptop and stuffed it in its case. He'd actually gotten a little bit nervous reading some of Ryou's last comments; his boyfriend seemed to be just a little bit cross to him. Or maybe he was just being paranoid. But whatever the case was, he was quite interested in seeing what sort of "anger management therapy" Ryou could provide.

Malik made his way toward Ryou's room, checking in another one on the way - good, Yusra was asleep - and when he got there, he walked up behind the smaller boy, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. "Ryouuuuu," he purred, nudging his head against the other's, "are you mad at me?" Part of him was actually wondering whether he was or not.

Laughing as he read his boyfriend's comments from his bed where he was currently sitting, Ryou shook his head. Sometimes Malik could exert off just a little too much frustration on such silly things. Sure, he hadn't been happy that Varon and others were calling Malik a female but he saw no reason to get outraged over it. After all, it was only what they thought; he knew and Malik knew that ridiculous statement was -far- from true. He hated how Malik got so worked up about it; he didn't want the other to get into a rotten mood over something so little. Besides, it was all his fault, if anyone should've been made fun of for the drawing, it should've been him. Closing down his laptop, he decided he was finished for the time being and was more than ready to have a little time with the person he had been missing horridly only the day before.

Arms stretching out above his head, he stood up, about to head out to find his boyfriend. Surprise found Ryou, however, when warm arms wrapped around his waist. Malik had made this almost too easy; he had come to him instead of having to take the few extra steps just to lead him back to the bedroom, anyway. "Mmm?" he lulled back, leaning back against the male. Giving a roll of chocolate hues, he moved to turn around in Malik's arms, leaning up to kiss at the corner of his mouth. "Of course I'm not. Why would I be mad at you? In fact, I was just getting up to come and get you. Was getting lonely..."

"Mmf," Malik uttered, leaning in to take a peck of his own. "Thought you might be mad 'cause I'm an easily annoyed ass who mouths off at people who piss him off and occasionally makes lewd or suggestive comments." He rested his chin in the crook of Ryou's neck, hugging the boy closely. "I'm just paranoid though, aren't I?"

His hands slowly moved up and down Ryou's back as he lifted his head a bit, pressing his lips against the other's ear. "And. Apparently we're on the same wavelength if you were going to come get me just as I came for you. 'M sorry you were lonely, in any case. Dunno why I was in the other room anyway..."

Kissing back happily, Ryou's eyes closed in the process, arms coming up to set themselves at Malik's shoulders, fingers lightly pawing in his shirt. Laughing as his boyfriend went on, he shook his head, nose nudging against the other's head, eyes still shut, savoring the moment. "You are not an ass, Malik. And even if you do say some slightly cruel things about them, I wouldn't get mad at you for it. I don't get mad easily, you should know that. That isn't worth getting mad at you over." Wrapping his arm fully around the other, he opened his eyes slowly, head lifting, giving a low murmur as a hand lightly brushed up and down his spine.

"Mm..." Shuddering as warm lips met his ear, Ryou began to press himself a little closer to his boyfriend, tilting his own head to press his lips a bit roughly against his boyfriend's own. "Don't be sorry, you're here now and that's all that matters..." Giving his boyfriend's lower lip the lightest little lap of his tongue, his hand fell to the other's abdomen, slowly lifting up his shirt. "So, I think it's about time I show you a good way I learned to calm stress..."

As he felt his shirt being lifted, Malik let out a purr, his arms raising slightly so it could be pulled up further. "You know, I do get stressed pretty often, between work and internet wars and other things~..." His arms draped around Ryou's neck as he leaned in again, pressing their noses together a little. "And I'm quite interested to see what methods of stress relief you have to offer."

Malik's fingers played with a few strands of Ryou's hair, eyes locked with his. "After all, the less stressed I am, the less I take things seriously."

Smiling mischievously, Ryou licked at his lips and began to remove Malik's tee shirt, taking it up off Malik's arms and tossing it to the floor. "I know you do, that's why I've been so worried lately." Giving Malik's nose a light nuzzle, he leant in and pressed a gentle kiss against the other's lips, quite amused with the way things were going. "Trust me, they -are- interesting. I've been working for so long to get the method just right and I think I might finally have it down."

Laughing a bit racily, Ryou's hand began to trail fingers lightly down Malik's chest, making sure to brush over his nub, giving it a light push in with his finger pad. "Then I guess there's no sense in waiting, is there?" Biting onto his lip, Ryou inched them closer to the bed, waiting until Malik's back was to it. Forcefully, with a flirtatious giggle, he pushed the other onto the bed, situating himself atop the other's hips, straddling them. "So, ready to begin then?" he purred, eyes watching the other with a certain hunger.

Malik let out a quiet groan as he felt Ryou's fingers brush against his chest, and his eyes closed in content; however, he yelped in surprise as Ryou shoved him down onto the bed. That surprise quickly diminished as his boyfriend climbed up on top of him, and he smirked, hands coming up to rest on Ryou's hips.

"I'm ready whenever you are," Malik replied, thumbs gently brushing the other's sides.

Once he was mounted atop the male's thighs, Ryou gave a little laugh at his boyfriend's reply, letting his hips crush into Malik as his sides were rubbed. It felt unbelievably good to have his boyfriend's hands on him, lavender eyes only ever on him, waiting for his next move in full anticipation. Whenever Malik treated him like this, it made him feel unbelievably sexy and sure of himself - something he often wasn't. Maybe it was just in the way the male encouraged him but either way, he loved doing these kinds of things with Malik because he knew they both loved it equally and both got something good out of it. "Then, what am I waiting for?" he breathed, eyes dead set on Malik's own as he lent down, watching the male's reaction as his palms slowly ran up Malik's abdomen, stopping at his shoulders. Lightly pressing himself down, he gave Malik a rather tainted smile before attaching his mouth to a perky nipple, tongue flicking repeatedly over it. "Mm, Malik...you always taste so good..."

As his mouth assaulted the male's nipple, his hands had another agenda. While one kept him stabilized, the other began to dust down Malik's side, fingers daring to slip beneath the other's pants waistband, drumming them there for a moment teasingly. "So, what do you think I should do first, huh? I've got a lot of ideas but..." Pausing to roughly press his groin against Malik's, he gave a soft mewl, head lifting to meet the other's eyes again lustfully. "I'm just not sure where to start..."

Malik's head tilted backward as Ryou latched onto his nipple, his eyes sliding shut. "Nnh..." Inexperienced as Ryou may have been, he damn sure knew how to turn Malik on. Malik slid his hand up his boyfriend's shirt, stroking the smooth skin as he opened his eyes again, locking them with Ryou's.

He groaned again as their hips clashed together, nails just barely digging into the other's back. "I'm sure anything you do will be pretty effective at relieving my stress... so just do the first thing that comes to mind, I guess," he replied, smirking seductively.

His back arched to the sky as Malik's fingers ran over his porcelain skin, making him mewl as he continued to suckle on the nipple. As nails drove themselves into his back, Ryou couldn't help but let out a slight gasp, hips pressing down against Malik's even rougher. It was strange how even know it was painful, the plight of Malik's nails digging into his skin still felt good in a sensual way. "I think...I just might be able to manage that..." He whispered, body stretching a little more, pushing down on Malik as his mouth moved to attach itself to his neck, giving it a little nibble for a moment. Tongue striking across the supple skin, he began to notice something; it was beginning to get -much- too warm.

Of course, having his shirt ridden up like it was happened to be slightly annoying also so Ryou decided it was time for it to go. Mounting himself back upon Malik's hips, his hands slid the shirt from his body, tossing it to the floor. "Mm, much better," he murmured, leaning back down to capture Malik's lips with his own, tongue stroking at his bottom lip, attempting to enter. His hand had maneuvered itself between them as they kissed, fishing for Malik's zipper. Undoing his jeans button, he then began to slowly unzip the jeans, fingers then sneaking beneath to run them gently over Malik's groin, giving it a caressing rub soon after, hoping to please his boyfriend utterly and completely.

Malik's lips parted compliantly for him, tongue eagerly prodding at Ryou's as he firmly latched an arm around the other boy's neck. His other hand slid down to grasp Ryou's backside in an attempt to tug him closer; however, that motion was halted as soon as Ryou's hand entered his pants.

As soon as permission was granted, Ryou's muscle slunk in, immediately basking into the hot cavern, tasting and lapping wherever he could. It wasn't long until Malik's tongue met his own, making him moan into the other's mouth as the muscles collided, tangling with one another. At the feel of Malik's hands on him, Ryou arched up into it, savoring the contact, getting as much out of it as he possibly could.

He moaned into the kiss, trying to thrust up into the hand, but Ryou's weight on top of him kept him firmly pinned down on the bed. Malik pulled back and broke off the kiss, only to latch his lips onto his boyfriend's throat instead. He gave the skin a firm suckle, biting at it slightly as another moan escaped from his throat. He continued to squirm beneath Ryou, trying anything he could just to get closer to the other.

When Malik attempted to jerk into his hand, Ryou gave a soft murmur, lips pressing themselves against Malik's once more. "No, no..." He lulled softly, eyes closing as soon as Malik's mouth attached itself to his neck. Another moan escaped him as the male kissed the sensitive skin, making him melt and want to plead for so much more. However, he couldn't lose his train of thought; this wasn't -for- Ryou, this was for his boyfriend and he was going to keep it that way even if he had trouble with losing himself in all of Malik's affections. Hand pressing down on his boyfriend's erection, Ryou slunk down a little lower to the point where he was out of reach of Malik's mouth; that way Malik couldn't get him sidetracked. Kissing down Malik's chest, his hand ticklishly trailed long appendages upward to the rim of Malik's boxers. Sneaking in, as soon as he felt Malik's heat beneath his palm, he gave a wanton moan, fingers working themselves around it. Stroking his boyfriend, he tried to keep his mind off how pleasing this was, not wanting to give himself up too soon before he even got to do what he wanted. Tongue circling around one of Malik's nubs, he tried to keep his free hand pressing Malik's hips against the bed so as to tantalize his boyfriend a little further.

Malik gasped as he felt fingers wrap around his length; he bit down on his lip as he continued to squirm, desperately trying to get more feeling out of Ryou's ministrations. He reached up to tangle his fingers in the soft white strands, attempting to pull Ryou closer against him. The other hand dipped beneath the waistband of the boy's pants, and he let out another groan as he felt Ryou begin to stroke him.

"Dammit, you're... teasing me on purpose," Malik breathed, gripping Ryou's hair tighter. He wanted to do the same things to his boyfriend, thinking it to be a little unfair that Ryou was doing all of the work, but clearly, Ryou would have none of that. He seemed completely intent on making him feel good, and he wasn't complaining about that at all - okay, Malik's train of thought had been completely derailed, and he tugged on the other's hair lightly, urging him to go on.

Having his boyfriend squirm beneath him, Ryou decided, was actually kind-of fun. He enjoyed seeing the other so pent-up from all the affection he was giving him. After all, usually it was the exact opposite and Ryou was the one all flustered, always waiting on Malik's next move. It was nice to have the tables turned. Besides, doing this made him feel almost sexy knowing he was able to turn the other on, his growls making Ryou's moves more confident.

Moaning as his hair was tugged on roughly, in a fit of passion, Ryou countered the act by giving his boyfriend's erection a jarring rub. The adrenaline in his body was starting to rise and he was beginning to be turned on to the extreme by Malik's body language. It was almost hard to keep himself calm, tantalizing Malik thanks to all of his little tugs. Ryou really wasn't sure how Malik managed; it was almost too much for him to take. "But you...like it, don't you?" he breathed back, still lowering himself a little further down, kisses being pressed down Malik's chest. Using his free hand, he tugged Malik's jeans down further to have better access to his boyfriend, kisses trailing all the way to his belly button now. Gentle finger pads stroked over Malik over and over again, a soft mewl letting itself out of Ryou, beginning to give his boyfriend just what he needed, giving his heat longer, harsher thrusts.

Malik finally managed to hold himself still as Ryou continued to pump him - it was pretty obvious that Ryou was in full control here, so it was best to just sit back and take it... it would last longer that way. Extracting his hands from Ryou's hair, since he was sure he'd end up pulling the white locks out at the rate he was going, Malik reached up behind him and clutched the headboard. His head had tilted back again, but he looked back down and almost came right that second due to the sensory overload. Hearing his boyfriend make all of those sounds, seeing just how sexy he was down there, still tasting Ryou on his lips, and the feelings of intense pleasure he was receiving... all of it almost felt surreal.

"Gods, Ryou..." He threw his head back again and looked up at the ceiling, breathing the other's name again. "Nnh... I love it. You know I do."

Tongue sneaking out, Ryou began to flick the muscle around the rim of Malik's navel, giving the skin a small love bite. His free hand was busy working itself up and down Malik's side, taking a break every now and again to rub into his hip. He couldn't believe how much this was exciting him. He already almost felt like he was about to climax, just watching the other male. He refused to let himself go so fast though; after all, he had barely even started and he hadn't even done what he had started up wanting to do.

Shyly, he kissed even lower, mouth stopping at the waistband of Malik's boxers. Hand working itself all over the arousal, finally, the time came to let it go, fingertips ghosting over the tip of it. "Good," he whispered back, fingers beginning to tug the edges of Malik's boxers down, "I think...I love doing it too." Fully tugging the boxers down Malik's hips, Ryou's mouth maneuvered itself just above the male's nads, pressing fluttery kisses around them. "Mm, Malik," he moaned softly, mouth slowly making it's way down, tongue sliding down to lap at the underskin of Malik's length. At first, Ryou had to admit he was a bit scared of the idea of sexual contact but now, he knew it was so much more exhilarating once you had actually done it. There was so little to be afraid of, especially since he was doing it with someone he completely loved from head to toe. If it made Malik happy and made him feel good, well...Ryou'd do it. Kissing the tip of Malik's erection, Ryou dared to just barely take it into his mouth, giving it a weak suckle, body absolutely trembling from wanting his boyfriend so badly. Still, he tried to hold it in and finish what he started before worrying about himself.

"...ohfuck," Malik gasped as he felt warmth surrounding him. For a moment, he was surprised that Ryou was actually doing this, since he'd always seemed a little shy about doing anything sexual, but that surprise was quickly discarded; his mind was becoming foggy with pleasure. And it wasn't just from what Ryou was doing to him, but the fact that he even wanted to - Ryou was tossing his inhibitions aside in order to make the person he loved feel good.

Biting his lip again, Malik looked down at his boyfriend, feeling a wave of emotion and bliss wash over him. One of his hands let go of the headboard, and he reached down to affectionately stroke Ryou's hair as he worked, fingers weaving through the pale strands. He resisted the urge to push him down further; he'd let Ryou go at his own pace, even if it felt like he was about ready to give out.

Hearing the other curse out in such delight from what Ryou was doing, he couldn't help but smile, though it was quickly forgotten as he attempted to concentrate on making his boyfriend reach his peak. Going further down on the male, Ryou's hands pushed Malik's hips down to stabilize the male as he gave his heat a sound suck, eyes closing. As he engulfed the other, he let his tongue flail around, letting it taste wherever it so desired. Giving a soft moan himself, he pushed down further, bobbing back and forth a little, attempting to find out what exactly his boyfriend liked most.

One of Ryou's hands fell to lightly stroke at one of Malik's inner thighs, thinking that it could possibly make the other feel even better. He knew he was inexperienced at this but it wasn't like he wasn't trying his hardest. He hated to be such a novice compared to his boyfriend who was always so sure of his moves; whatever Malik did made Ryou feel good. Ryou only wanted to pay his boyfriend back by being able to give him just as much and giving it his best. After all, his life, whether it was pathetic or not, was all about pleasing his boyfriend and doing his best to keep him his happiest because that's exactly what Malik did for him.

Once again, Ryou went down low on Malik, taking as much of him in as possible, mewling as his head began to be stroked. As the fingers tangled, Ryou's heartbeat began to increase again, loving the feeling of having his hair tugged gently, knowing it was all out of the frustration Malik was feeling and all because of him.

As heat engulfed him completely, Malik threw his head back again, letting out a loud moan - and then his mouth snapped shut, his face flushing in embarrassment. He'd only just remembered that Yusra was still in the other room, and if she were to wake up at a time like this, it would be most inconvenient and result in lots of frustration (particularly of the sexual variety) on Malik's part.

One hand still tangled in Ryou's hair, he brought his other one down to his lips, biting down hard on his knuckle. It'd help him keep a bit quieter; not to mention, the slight pain would help distract him from the pressure building in the pit of his stomach. Not that he needed the distraction at all, but maybe Malik would be able to prolong the pleasure he was getting if he was focused on something else in addition to it. "N-nnnnh..." His hand was starting to quiver slightly as his fist tightened in his boyfriend's hair.

Hearing Malik release such a booming moan, Ryou couldn't help but suck harder, wanting to make his boyfriend feel whatever he had felt all over again. He liked it a lot when the other moaned so audibly, making his self esteem grow, knowing he was doing something right. Tongue flailing back and forth, he tried to keep his pace, starting out slow and getting faster and faster. It was hard though, especially now because his whole body was going out of control and functioning steadily was increasingly difficult. If he hadn't been so busy pleasing his boyfriend and he had felt like that before, there was no doubt he would've thrown himself at his boyfriend in a moment, barely needing anything just to get off. He almost couldn't wait to get done just so he could hear Malik climax and then have his hands all over himself again, just like he liked it.

Bringing his mouth completely off the erection, he gave Malik a lust-filled smile before delving down again, taking him in as deep as possible, mouth engulfing around the hard length, sucking as hard as he possibly could. If this didn't work, nothing else possibly could.

Back arching as his hair was pulled, Ryou himself moaned upon Malik, trying his absolute hardest not to give out and keep on going, wanting to give Malik -everything- he possibly could.

When he suddenly felt cool air against his length, he looked down at Ryou, a confused look on his face. Malik swore he felt his heart skip a few beats when Ryou smiled at him, but as soon as the other boy went down on him again, his mind clouded over again. He definitely wouldn't be able to last much longer at this rate.

And he was right; as soon as he felt the slight hum around his length, Malik had just about all he could take. He tensed, babbling out a string of Arabic as he climaxed, spilling himself into Ryou's mouth. A rush of complete and total ecstasy surged through his body, and the fist in Ryou's hair loosened.

As his orgasm subsided, Malik looked down at his boyfriend again, his head still quite fuzzy. A warm smile formed on his face, and even though he'd climaxed, he felt more than ready to go for it again, if only if it meant pleasing Ryou as much as he'd been.

Ryou was a bit sad; Malik sure could last a long time compared to him. If it had been him, he wasn't sure he couldn't taken very much of anything. Thanks to Malik, he had learned just how anxious he really was. It never seemed to take a very long time; no matter what, within a few minutes, he was bound to give out even when he tried not to.

A few minutes later, surprise filled Ryou whenever his boyfriend began to curse out in a different language. Moaning softly, his mouth was soon filled to the brim with Malik's seed, swallowing it down as fast as he could. Waiting until Malik was absolutely finished, he pulled himself off of Malik, peering up at the male, a hand lifting to wipe any substance left over off Ryou's lips. Smiling shyly, feeling a bit awkward and unsure of what exactly to say, he crawled back onto the bed, deciding like Malik, to ditch his clothes along the way, throwing off his jeans before he moved back onto the bed fully again. Crawling atop Malik, he let his body press down against the other male's, kissing him softly, very happy he had pleased him. "Mm...love you," he mewled softly, giggling softly as he pressed their noses together, eyes closing, heart so full of warmth and happiness, pretty sure Malik had enjoyed it even know he wasn't sure if it was good or not.

Arms curling around Ryou as he crawled on top of him, smile widening as a warm, light feeling came over him. Malik returned the kiss just as softly, not really caring that he could taste himself on Ryou's lips. "Love you too, Ry... so much," he muttered, pecking his lips again. He sighed, fingers idly moving up and down the other's back, lightly scratching.

"I feel kinda bad, though," he said, "'cause you went to the trouble of doing that for me, and you've gotten nothing in return so far." Malik moved his head to the side a bit, pressing another kiss against Ryou's ear. "I just might have to fix that."

Purring as he was kissed back, Ryou only let out another goofy laugh, momentarily forgetting about just how caught up he had been. At the scratches, Ryou arched up against the hand, kissing at the corner of the male's mouth again. He couldn't have been any happier at the moment really; he was just so glad Malik had liked it, even if he wasn't the best or anything close.

"Mm? Why?" he murmured, peering down to the other a bit confusedly. As far as he knew, Malik really had nothing to feel bad about. As his ear was kissed, suddenly he remembered something. Shuddering, he pressed his ear a little closer to Malik's mouth, letting out a slight moan. His momentary wave of joy had made him forget about just how -badly- he needed Malik. "I...I'd...love it if you did..."

"Mm, okay, love," Malik purred, tongue trailing along Ryou's ear as he sat up, taking the smaller boy with him. He felt unusually energetic tonight - most of the time, he'd be completely spent after something like this, but this time he felt as if he could take on the world. Or just Ryou, who he completely intended to satisfy. After all, it wouldn't be fair to leave him hanging like that, and it was difficult to deny his boyfriend anything. ~~Ryou just had to give him The Eyes and he'd cave in.~~

Malik's fingers continued to trail across Ryou's spine as he gave his ear a light suckle. "Just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

Gasping as the tongue glided over his ear, Ryou let out a soft little cry, arms settling around Malik's neck needing something to keep him stable. His adrenaline was beginning to pump again and he was feeling overly antsy as he laid there, so susceptible to Malik's assault. He began to wish he were on the bottom so he could curl his legs around his boyfriend because at the moment, it just felt like he needed something to wrap them around to keep them under control.

"Wha...?" Cheeks warming slightly, he gave a soft smile as Malik sucked on his ear, head arching further into the mouth. What did Ryou want though? Really, he didn't mind as long as he was with Malik. After all, no matter what the male did it was bound to feel extraordinary and fulfill all of his needs. "Whatever you want to give me is good with me..."

Malik nodded, tongue moving down to flick at Ryou's jaw. "Alright." He pressed a kiss to Ryou's cheek before pulling back, looking him in the eyes for a few moments. "Do you have anything that can work as lube, or...?" he asked, fingers gliding over the other's pale cheek. "'Cause I kinda didn't bring any."

He actually hadn't brought a lot of things when he'd come over; he'd been so anxious to see Ryou that he'd only packed his laptop and a few pairs of clothes.

Mewling at the feeling of the warm tongue, Ryou's eyes met Malik's, giving them a slightly desperate look. The more Malik tempted him with little things like kisses and nibbles, the more his need for the other seemed to increase. Moving to straddle the other again, just so his hips could be pressed down against the other male's, Ryou sat up after the little kiss, giving a soft murmur. "Mm..." Cheeks tingeing a bit at the thought, he shook his head. No, he wouldn't have had any of that lying around. He really didn't want to have to search his dad's room for any of that because that was embarrass--and ahh; Diabound and Bakura. Eyes lighting up, he gave a happy nod, rolling off the other. Laughing, he leaned in and took a quick peck for himself before hopping off the bed.

"One second! Let me go search my Brother's rooms!" Bounding out of the bedroom, he made his way first to Diabound's room figuring the male would be more than likely to have some; at least, moreso than Bakura though really, he was almost positive both of them would have -plenty-. Making his way into his Brother's bedroom, he quickly began to rummage through his drawer, immediately finding some lube and flavored at that. Crinkling his nose at that, Ryou hurried back to his own bedroom, kicking the drawer shut.

Coming back to Malik, he flopped back onto the bed, offering the other the bottle with a smile. "There! Found some. It was easier than I thought!" Wrapping his leg around Malik, Ryou leant in for a small kiss, pressing his body against the other male's. "So, what did you have in mind, anyway?"

A smirk formed on Malik's face as Ryou rejoined him, and he took the bottle, returning the peck. "Well... as it turns out, I have my own methods of 'stress relief' I've picked up. I figured you might be a little stressed yourself since you've been babysitting..." Malik squirted a generous amount of the lube onto his fingertips, then set the bottle down on the bed, rubbing his fingers together.

Wrapping one arm around Ryou's back, he reached around him with the other, starting to carefully probe at the other's entrance. Although, there was also something else that needed to be taken care of. "... Wanna help me out a little, Ry?" Malik asked, looking down between them at his reawakening erection.

"Oh do you?" He countered playfully, giving a soft laugh. Arm wrapping around Malik, he let his fingers lightly graze through messy blonde locks. "I think I'm a bit interested to see exactly what you have planned for me." Biting his lip is anticipation, he watched anxiously as the other squirted the oil onto his hand, body clenching. After all, he knew quite well what Malik had planned with that lube and he knew how good it'd feel when he was all ready for it but...it still made him a little nervous about the first feel of Malik's fingers inside of him.

Writhing in the male's arms, he gave a soft gasp as Malik's hand delved underneath his boxers, immediately searching out his globe, slippery fingers working their way inside. Letting out a soft mewl, Ryou's hand tangled in the blonde locks a little, eyes closing, attempting to get used to the feel. As soon as Malik asked for help, a light blush drew out across his cheeks and his hand fell to lightly begin to stroke his lover again, giving a wanton moan at the feel of the male beneath his fingers. "Mm, Malik..."

Gently kissing Ryou's throat as his hair was tugged on, Malik paused in his preparations, tugging the boxers off of Ryou's hips. "Sit up a bit," he purred, nipping at the other's ear, "it'll be easier to do this without the boxers in the way." He'd kicked off what was left of his clothing when Ryou had briefly left him to retrieve the lube.

He could tell his boyfriend was a little bit nervous, so Malik pressed a few fluttery kisses to Ryou's shoulder in an attempt to calm him down a little. "Nothing to be afraid of, love... it shouldn't hurt as much as it did the first time."

Shyly, his hips arched up as his boxers began to be pulled downwards. He was completely naked now and no matter what, even if it was just for Malik, it still felt a little awkward at first, knowing he was so vulnerable to his lover's eye. Sure, Malik always -told- him he was beautiful and gave him all sorts of compliments but he always wondered if it was possible his boyfriend was a little bit biased just because he loved Ryou for who he was. After all, loving someone for their personality, well, it didn't always mean they were equally good looking, did it? Sure, Ryou thought Malik was extremely handsome but that didn't mean Ryou was, too. Was it possible he really -had- just gotten lucky?

Soft eyes gazed up to the male in an unsaid worry, keeping his thoughts to himself. Sure there was doubt on his mind but there was no reason to bring it up. After all, even if it wasn't for his looks, Malik did love him and that was what he was sure of. Still, he only wanted to be perfect in every way already. He just wished he could've done it a better way. "Mh'm," he murmured softly, working his body exactly as Malik instructed, sitting up a little to make it easier for his boyfriend. As kisses were pressed against his flesh, he finally began to calm a little, head arching back some, willing his eyes shut. He didn't want to think about the beginning pain; after all, it was what came after that was the thing that made it all worth every last second. "Not afraid, not really. I trust you Malik, I know you'd never hurt me purposely..."

As Malik finished preparing his boyfriend, he sat up straight and scooted back against the headboard, situating Ryou on his lap. He wrapped an arm around Ryou's waist, reaching up to rest his hand against a pale cheek. His fingers trailed over the soft skin as he locked his eyes with Ryou's, gazing at him intently. "It means a lot that you trust me, Ryou. It really does," Malik said, smiling warmly. "Dunno if I've told you that before... but if I did, it's a reminder."

Reaching down to grasp the other's hips, he leaned forward a bit to catch Ryou's lips again as he carefully pressed himself in - slowly, so he wouldn't hurt his boyfriend.

As Ryou was tugged up onto Malik's lap, he snuggled in close, wanting to feel the other's body against him because it seemed to calm him a bit. Even know he knew he was going to enjoy it, it didn't keep him from being a bit nervous. Feeling his boyfriend's hand on his cheek, he nuzzled against it, scooting up a little bit closer to just be able to kiss at his cheek. Smiling slightly at Malik's words, he gave a small laugh along with a slight nuzzle. "Why wouldn't I? I love you, I trust everything you do."

Kissing back a tad heatedly, Ryou moaned against his lips, forgetting about any amount of anxiousness as the kiss dragged on. It always felt so mind-numbing to be so close and affectionate with Malik; it was a feeling he hoped to never, ever lose. Losing Malik would've been like losing everything. Arms clinging at Malik's shoulders, he tried to deepen the kiss. A cry left him as soon as Malik entered him yet he still tried his hardest to keep his mind off of it and onto the kiss instead. Even if it felt weird and slightly painful, it would definitely improve.

When he heard Ryou cry out, Malik pouted into the kiss, soothingly running his hand up his boyfriend's side. He gently massaged the skin in an attempt to get him to relax a little, knowing that this was still quite a new feeling for Ryou. Malik eventually broke the kiss off and buried his face in Ryou's neck, wrapping his arms around the other's slim waist.

He held Ryou closely for a few minutes as he let him adjust, and then Malik slowly began to move; their position was slightly hard to work with, but it was something different, and would likely be quite pleasurable once they actually got going.

When hands began to circulate over his skin, he felt himself begin to calm, getting more and more used to the feeling. Letting out a deep breath, he tried his best to relax and forget about everything but the warm, affectionate hands roaming over him. Head tilting back at the kisses, he was finally sure he could take a little more, completely soothed. "Mm, Malik..."

A soft shudder ran throughout him as his boyfriend began to actually thrust slowly, upper body crashing against Malik's own. Gasping, he let his head fall to the other's shoulder, needing something to press his head against feeling rather frictioned. As the movements went on, he began to grow used to them and the slight pain began to clear up, leaving him feeling a bit stressed. Pressing down a bit on Malik, Ryou let out a rather audible screech as Malik hit a spot that made pleasure surge throughout Ryou's body. Panting, he began to feel desperate, wanting to feel that -again-. Attempting to have Malik hit the spot again, Ryou began to push up and down as well, wanting much more.

As Ryou began to move along with him, Malik lifted his head, hands starting to run along his lover's back again. He groaned as he moved, still a little bit sensitive from his previous orgasm, but he was determined to give Ryou much more pleasure than he'd been given.

Nails digging in to his back slightly, Malik leaned down to trail his tongue along Ryou's collarbone, pressing a few kisses along it to further stimulate the other. Ryou was always so responsive to his kisses and licks that since it wasn't just teasing anymore, any reaction was likely to be quite fulfilling.

Back writhing as fingers trickled down, he let out a soft moan against Malik's neck just to let him know how good he was beginning to feel. Was there anything else in the world that could be -this- enjoyable? Pressing himself down a little harder, Ryou's fingers began to dig into the male's skin some, unable to contain his inner frustrations.

"Malik...!" he cried, eyes opening to stare up to the ceiling in nothingness, mind overwhelmed with the feeling of Malik's tongue against his neck. Shuddering, hazed eyes closed and he further pushed and thrust down against the other male, trying to get to just where he wanted to be. Ugh, that feeling... It was so desirable and fulfilling; he just couldn't -wait- for it, to that good all thanks to the person he loved most. "Need you," he breathed huskily, mewling as the pain from the nails began to sink in. It was so strange how that kind of pain could be -so- satisfying.

Malik quickened his pace a bit, wanting to help bring Ryou closer to his limit. He was actually starting to feel tension build up within him as well, due to the tight heat surrounding him. Arms hooking around his waist, he pushed Ryou back a bit to kiss his way down the boy's chest, tongue flicking out to bat at a nipple.

Mouth latching around the nub, Malik gave it a light nibble as he continued to thrust up into his boyfriend. Ryou's moans and cries only further encouraged him; they were rather pleasing to the ear as well, as they let Malik know that he was feeling good. Smirking around the nipple, he reached down between them to ghost his fingers across Ryou's length.

As Malik's pace quickened, so did Ryou's heartbeat. Suddenly, the room seemed thousands of degrees hotter. Ryou could feel the stickiness rising upon his forehead and back; the sweat felt as if it were just pouring down like rain. It was getting so hard to breathe evenly and all Ryou wanted to do was scream for mercy, wanting this building feeling to resolute itself. All of Malik's affections were only making it worse; the more Malik kissed and nibbled, the louder Ryou wanted to yelp. "Oh, M-Malik...!" he whined out, legs attempting to wrap around the other, needing something to keep them stable.

When Ryou's nipple was lapped at, a howl left the boy and suddenly, he was working ten times harder, grinding himself down upon the other, wanting nothing but to end all the build-up of tension. His head threw itself back in a fit of moans and suddenly, the whole house was filled with screams when his length was groped. He was trying so hard to hold on and wait it out just a tad longer since it felt so good but it was nearly impossible. All he could think about was his boyfriend's warm voice and soothing hands which were currently all over him. The thought only made it worse; he couldn't stand it, he wanted Malik so badly. Nails grating along the other's skin, Ryou let out another shriek, knowing it would only be seconds before he'd let go.

Malik's arm reached up to pull the other closer as his tongue continued to swirl around the nub; he bit down hard, starting to stroke Ryou's erection. The younger boy sounded absolutely enraptured, as if he would just explode with pleasure any second now. Malik wasn't really that far off either, though he didn't particularly care if he climaxed again - his focus was on Ryou, and making sure Ryou was thoroughly satisfied.

One thing was certain, though: any nervousness Ryou had felt before was definitely gone now.

As soon as the bite happened, Ryou lost everything. He couldn't hold on any longer. Malik had made him feel too good and once again, Ryou was already climaxing so soon, unable to contain himself from Malik's touches. "M-Malik! Malik!" he cried out, head falling back as tears welled from his eyes thanks to all the overwhelming emotions running through him. He gave a few last thrusts before falling against the other, absolutely out of breath and energy. Even if he was tired from it, he felt unbelievably good all over.

As soon as he heard Ryou cry out, Malik detached his mouth from his boyfriend's chest, looking up at him. He stopped his movements, feeling something warm spill over onto his hand. Once Ryou leaned up against him, his free hand reached up to thread through the other's sweat-soaked hair.

"...you feel good?" Malik asked with a smile, withdrawing his sticky hand from between them.

As he met Malik's eyes, he gave him a warm smile, bloody fingernails finally leaving the marks they had left on the other's shoulder blades. Letting them fall to his side, he kissed the side of the male's mouth, giving a soft purr. Now he was beyond happy and satisfied and all he wanted to do was cuddle with the other and spend the rest of the day by his side, like always. Malik always made days the best.

"Mm?" he mewled softly, nuzzling against the other's ear. "Of course I do. You always make me feel good," he finished huskily in the male's ear, brushing away hair to kiss softly against it.

"Mmm..." Malik turned his head to press a kiss to Ryou's damp forehead. "I'm glad," he said, weaving his fingers through Ryou's hair as he slowly pulled himself out. Malik's erection was still present, but it would wilt away after a while. "You made me feel good, so I figured it was only fair that I return the favor." He smirked playfully, tugging on a lock of Ryou's hair with his teeth.

He sighed as a sense of relaxation settled over him, mingled with a little bit of pain from where Ryou's nails had dug into his back. "So messy, though. We should probably take a shower; don't wanna smell like sweat and sex for the rest of the day." Or maybe that was just Malik's inner clean-freak coming out.

As Malik pulled himself out, Ryou gave a soft murmur, trying to ignore the slight pain that ran through him when it was removed. As soon as he was emptied though he curled back atop Malik, laughing as his hair strands were pulled on with teeth. "Mm, yeah but I didn't really deserve it like you did though. I do hope it completely emptied thoughts of certain people though!" Giving his boyfriend a playful wink, he kissed at his chin, fingers curling at Malik's sides.

As he lifted his hands, his eyes widened. There was actually a bit of blood caked beneath his nails which didn't belong to him. Getting worried, Ryou immediately jerked up, eyeing down the other worriedly. "A-Are you okay? I didn't mean to be so rough! We really should go shower and clean those out. I don't want you to get infected because of me and dumb things I did!"

Malik was a bit taken aback at the other's outburst, and he blinked for a moment before flashing a reassuring smile. "Really, it's not that bad," he said, brushing his bangs out of his face, "it just showed me how much you enjoyed it." He leaned forward for a quick kiss, then turned around to slide off of the bed.

"But you're right, we should shower. I dunno about you, but I feel more comfortable if I'm clean." Malik extended his hand - the clean one - out to his boyfriend, a half-smirk on his face. "C'mon."

Wed, 26 Jul 2006 03:36:25 GMT

Characters: Diabound Bakura (goldenfetish) and Mahaado (deja_blue_)

Rating: NC-17 (Surprise, surprise. XD)

Summary: Again, somewhat backdated. Takes place the day after the previous log. After a long day of unsuccessful house-hunting, Mahaado and Diabound come home and try to de-stress. This, of course, means getting drunk. Mahaado decides to show Diabound what it's like to be on the bottom, for once, and Diabound makes a not-quite-coherent-confession.

Mahaado sighed lightly as he opened the door to his apartment. He, for one, was exhausted. They'd searched high and low on Diabound's last day without Yusra for potential places to live, and each time, the place had been shot down by one of them (but mostly by Diabound). He was looking forward to a rest, after this, though he knew that, with Yusra returning to their lives the next day, that rest would be hard to find again.

Walking in past Mahaado, Diabound made a beeline for the couch, collapsing on it and sprawling across to make himself comfortable, blue eyes focusing on Mahaado, a lazy grin on his face. "I still don't see what bothered you about that one house," he muttered, tongue trailing boredly across his lips.

"Except for that it was two feet from a bar and reeked of alcohol and smoke, and that the previous owners were killed in a robbery attempt, nothing," Mahaado said tiredly, sinking into a nearby chair and letting the plastic bag he held in his hands settle on the ground - just as well they'd bought some alcohol; he had a feeling they'd need it, after all this.

Diabound only shrugged. "Wasn't that bad. I liked the location, personally, and it was small enough..." He smirked, sitting up slightly. "What? Don't think I could protect you from a robbery attempt?"

Mahaado flushed faintly, running a hand through his hair. "Well, considering you said you were planning on coming home late sometimes, I think I'd be more worried about a robber coming when you weren't there," he mumbled, sinking into the chair a bit more.

Rolling his eyes, Diabound nodded towards the bag. "We didn't buy that for nothing," he noted, stretching. "And fine, point, but I still thought it was a nice place."

Mahaado sighed lightly, reaching into the bad and pulling out a bottle of beer. He offered it to Diabound, gazing at him. "Well, there were a lot of nice places," he muttered.

Thankful this particular brand of beer didn't require a bottle opener, Diabound popped the cap, letting it fall onto the floor. "They were too big. I'm not paying money for space I'll never use," he muttered.

"We can look for somewhere smaller, later," Mahaado murmured, taking his own bottle as he pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He sighed and settled back in his chair, opening the bottle and taking a swallow.

Diabound followed suit though his swallow was more of a swig. "Later?" He gave a bitter chuckle. "If you find me time, then sure." Eyes rolling, he leaned back against the couch, kicking off his shoes and letting them clunk noisily against the floor.

"Perhaps your brother wouldn't mind taking her just for the day, sometime, so we could go," Mahaado murmured, taking another slow swallow as he closed his eyes. The alcohol, at least, was somewhat comforting.

"Maybe," Diabound scoffed, taking another long drink, "but it certainly seemed like we searched everywhere today. Reminds me why I hadn't looked for a house before now."

Mahaado smiled faintly, despite himself. "True. It was hard enough finding this place for just one person." He exhaled lightly, taking a swig of his drink and wondering if they didn't need something more potent.

"Mm... We don't need anywhere huge, though. Two bedrooms, right? Kitchen, bathroom... that other place was perfect, you know." Diabound took another deep drink. "And so, there was a murder. Big deal, install security." Another shrug, "I actually liked the bar being in walking distance."

"Mmm," Mahaado replied intelligently - there were other reasons he hadn't like the house, but he was too tired to list them now, and he didn't really feel like arguing over it when they were back home, anyway. "Guess we'll hafta see."

Diabound wouldn't have cared either way. Taking one last drink, Diabound finished off the bottle before replying, "Either way, I just want out of that hotel room. It's not easy sharing a bed with an infant."

Mahaado nodded, slowly standing and moving to sit beside Diabound, bringing the bag and his bottle with him. "Well, you know, you're welcome to stay here 'til we find a place," he said, before taking another swig.

Grabbing another beer, Diabound just nodded idly, almost wanting to turn down the offer and then realizing if he was going to buy a house with the man, he might as well test the water first. "... I suppose so, but do you really have room for a baby?"

Mahaado smiled faintly, sheepishly. "About as much room as there is for one in a hotel room," he said, shrugging lightly. He glanced around the apartment briefly, judging. "If we shifted things a bit, I think we'd be all right..." Vaguely, he wondered if he was going to be able to keep all of his books when (or if) he moved - he didn't want to, but there were quite a number of them.

"Point," Diabound muttered as he opened his drink, fingers running along the rim of the bottle before taking a sip. "Well, the problem is where would she sleep? She's been sleeping in bed with me..."

"Well, you'll have to buy a cot, eventually, no matter what you do. You could buy one now and bring it here? There should be enough room in the bedroom." Mahaado quickly finished off his bottle, setting it down on the nearby coffee table before he reached for another.

Giving a simple shrug, Diabound took a quick sip before muttering, "I need to sleep with her. Otherwise... she might get uncomfortable. Or something." A very long drink now and he leaned back into the couch.

Mahaado smiled faintly at that, opening his second bottle. "It's all right, Diabound. She'll be perfectly safe in a cot, and we can put it right by the bed." He took a drink, a warmth starting to fill his body.

Diabound frowned slightly but brushed it off; it was something that could be dealt with later. For now, there was alcohol and well... Sliding an arm around Mahaado, Diabound flashed that trademark smirk, dark and cool and oh-so-tempting. "In that case, there's nothing to worry about, hmm?"

Mahaado glanced up at Diabound and just barely stifled a faint laugh - somehow, Diabound's come-on expression just seemed funny with alcohol. "Mmhmm," he said with a smile, shifting a bit closer to Diabound before taking another swig of his drink. Strangely, more than anything, Mahaado had the desire to get good and drunk that night, if only to lighten the stress that had been building the entire day.

Diabound gave a lazy kiss to Mahaado's cheekbone before returning to his ~~true love~~ drink. Taking a long swig, he gave a sigh, deciding that for now, silence was best. Mahaado didn't seem wary tonight of drinking, so why not take the chance? How bad could getting completely wasted be with someone you were about to move in with?

Mahaado made a content noise, settling against Diabound's shoulder as he drank slowly from his bottle. His head was already starting to buzz pleasantly, as he hadn't eaten much that day, and he nuzzled into Diabound's neck a bit.

Second drink now finished, Diabound let the bottle fall to the floor, one arm resting around the other shoulders, tanned fingers playing with the fabric of Mahaado's shirt. "You really didn't see anything decent?"

"You didn't like the ones I thought were decent," Mahaado murmured before finishing off his second bottle as well, setting it nearby on the couch. He shifted slightly, pressing kisses to Diabound's neck, his eyes half-lidded. "Did you?"

Diabound leaned back to give the other more access, a low groan emitting from his throat. "Mm, no, not really..." Idly, he wondered if they'd ever be able to agree on a place, as different as they were. "Hold up, I need another beer." Leaning forward and away from Mahaado, Diabound fished for the bag, finding it and opening his third drink, taking a quick sip before resting back once more.

Mahaado smiled lazily, resuming his trail of kisses and light nips up Diabound's neck, the alcohol soothing his mind and his usual insecurities. After a moment, he shifted, grabbing his own third drink, opening it, and taking a swallow. "Maybe we'll get lucky," he said as he straddled Diabound's lap, bottle in hand.

Also a bit tipsy, Diabound simply smirked back up at him, lazily replying, "I think I already have," before taking another long drink and holding the bottle out to his side, giving the other a rather sloppy kiss.

Mahaado smiled into the kiss before deftly taking control of it, pressing Diabound back into the couch as his tongue pried past the other's lips. All thoughts of sleepiness had quickly flown out of his mind in lieu of a need for Diabound.

Diabound's eyes widened considerably, sitting in sheer shock of what had just happened. Never before had Mahaado taken control of any situation. Just last night he had been worried over...

And now this? Regaining his senses as much as his hazy mind allowed him to, he let his free hand rest against Mahaado's side, desperate not to lose a dominance battle against him. Tongue pushing roughly against the others, he fought against it, fingers rubbing against the other's side.

Mahaado moaned lightly into Diabound's mouth, tongue sliding and pressing against Diabound's hungrily. It felt strangely familiar, the calm, clear state of his mind that the alcohol seemed to bring on - once again, he could think without hesitation or doubt, and it was thanks to this that he knew he wanted Diabound, wanted to have him the way he himself had only been had.

His hands slid roughly over Diabound's chest for a moment or two, before he finally withdrew from the kiss, panting. He smiled, chuckled breathily, and took another drink.

Still more than just slightly surprised, Diabound returned the kiss, his own mind racing with two opposing thoughts: one at just how wonderful this was and the other about how awkward and wrong it was (not to mention, a bit damaging to his own pride – after all, Mahaado?).

As Mahaado broke the kiss, Diabound panted heavily, inquiring almost breathlessly, "What was that?"

"What was what?" Mahaado asked easily between drinks, silently musing over why they hadn't bought anything stronger. Once he'd downed about half the bottle, he resumed kissing at Diabound's neck again, one hand fisting in his hair.

Diabound groaned at the contact, vaguely reminded of his own daughter's fetish for pulling hair and then deciding that was the last thing he'd want to think about at the moment. Quickly gulping down his own bottle, finishing it in a matter of moments and letting it fall to his side, he grinned at the other, tongue trailing across his lips, the smell of alcohol obvious on his breath, strong and a hint to just how drunk he was becoming.

Mahaado smiled almost coyly at the noises Diabound was making, biting lightly at his skin - at least, it seemed, Diabound was enjoying himself. He withdrew again for a moment or two to finish off his own bottle, before dropping it aside on the couch and pressing closer to Diabound, letting their hips grind together none-too-subtly. He smiled at Diabound, kissing him again with a light moan.

Another moan and Diabound seemed to realize just how off the situation was, slowly pushing Mahaado back or a moment, studying him warily and then leaning in to kiss him himself, a kiss that he'd be in control of, not Mahaado.

Mahaado, however, had other ideas. Even as he let Diabound control the kiss he'd initiated, Mahaado slid his hands under Diabound's shirt, raking his nails lightly up his sides and exploring the muscles there. He mentally counted bottles, and realized that they'd already managed to finish off the six-pack they'd just bought; although, in a way, this was beneficial, as Mahaado distantly remembered he had some alcohol of his own, and hopefully something a bit stronger than the beer they'd been drinking.

The touch startled Diabound and his kiss became a bit more sloppy and less focused on, blue eyes trying to glance down to his sides to watch Mahaado's hands. No, this had definitely never happened before. Pulling back from the kiss, Diabound gave the other a skeptical look. "... Just how drunk are you?" His voice was slightly soft, teasing even.

"Mm?" Mahaado smiled lazily, tilting his head as his fingers drifted over Diabound's sides. "Not very. Should fix that," he murmured, leaning in and nuzzling at Diabound's jaw.

Diabound gave a slow nod, tongue wetting his lips once more. "Y-yeah, I wouldn't mind that." Perhaps if he drank a little more this would all sort of meld together and make sense.

Mahaado smiled and planted a soft kiss to Diabound's lips before he slid down at to his feet. He didn't feel drunk, and, rationally, he shouldn't have been that drunk, anyway, with only a few bottles of beer, but he was still finding it took quite a bit of concentration to walk steadily to the kitchen and find something alcoholic.

Diabound leaned back into the couch, trying to conceal the dazed expression on his face for a moment. Was that really Mahaado? ~~His Mahaado? Sweet, innocent, not like that Mahaado?~~ It couldn't be, but who else would it be?

Taking a deep breath, Diabound straightened his stance a bit, trying to peer into the kitchen and catch a glimpse of what the other had gone after. Alcohol, yes, but what kind?

Mahaado rifled through his cabinets, withdrawing a few bottles and eyeing their labels. "Wine, bit of brandy, bit of vodka," he mumbled as he set down and put back different bottles. He glanced around toward where Diabound was sitting, calling, "What do you want?"

"Vodka," Diabound replied, deciding they might as well go for something heavy. He moved to stretch across the couch, back resting against the arm, arms folded.

Mahaado nodded and pulled out a couple of shot glasses, bringing them and the vodka bottle back to Diabound. Distantly, he thought that, for someone who usually didn't drink much, he certainly had a well-prepared kitchen. "Here," he said, offering Diabound a glass and opening the bottle.

Diabound held his glass out, smirking up at the other. "I'm beginning to find I like you best drunk," he noted absent-mindedly, the statement only partially true.

Mahaado glanced at Diabound silently, not bothering to respond as he filled the other's glass, and then his own, setting the bottle on the coffee table. "I'm not drunk, yet," he muttered after a moment, sitting beside Diabound.

"Really?" Diabound taunted as he took the shot, partially hazy eyes only becoming more so. "Well, either way, you've certainly never kissed me like that before." He smirked, lapping anything extra off his lips.

Mahaado took his shot in two goes, wincing and exhaling heavily. "Was it dislikable?" he asked after a moment, shifting over to nestle his head against Diabound's neck again, one hand drifting over his chest.

"No, I thoroughly enjoyed it," Diabound responded, arms wrapping loosely around Mahaado's waist. "Unexpected, though. I didn't know you had it in you." After all, it'd been quite some time since Diabound had been kissed quite like that.

"Maybe I just wanted to be in control, for once," Mahaado breathed, before licking at Diabound's neck, hands sliding lower. His fingertips passed over the front of Diabound's pants, teasingly, before moving to his hips, stroking them lightly.

Diabound, rendered speechless for a moment, quickly regained composure, snickering, "After all those times you persuaded me to take control?" Truth being that there weren't really all that many 'times', Diabound shrugged that trivial matter off. He'd made his point, hadn't he? "It's almost as if you've lured me into your grasp, gotten me drunk, and now plan to have your way with me. Can't say it's suave, but I guess you've gotten the job, or most of it, done, haven't you?"

Mahaado laughed softly, setting his glass down and pressing close to Diabound's side. "Actually, I didn't have any sort of plan," he murmured against Diabound's skin. "Never would've tried anything like this 'f I wasn't 'drunk'." He kissed Diabound ear lightly, smiling. "But, now that you've brought it up..."

"Ah, but you're not 'drunk', remember?" Diabound teased, a light and eager moan escaping his lips. "How horrible of you to take advantage of me..." His own hands roamed over Mahaado's back, lifting the shirt slightly, fingers tracing across the tanned flesh.

"You've done it yourself enough times," Mahaado whispered, shifting into Diabound's lap again and sliding one hand over Diabound's crotch, stroking him lightly. "Mm, besides, I can tell you're enjoying it," he teased with a faint smile, coy to the point of being a smirk. He leaned in, kissing Diabound again.

"Well, of course I'm--" Diabound cut off as Mahaado stroked his already sensitive crotch, gasping lowly. This was almost too much. "'Haado, what exactly are you planning--?" He spoke in between the kiss, words slurred and messy.

"Mm, that's a secret," Mahaado whispered against Diabound's lips before reclaiming them, tongue once again pressing in. His hands, meanwhile, were already deftly undoing Diabound's pants, sliding in and stroking him through his boxers instead.

Disappointed in the answer, Diabound half-heartedly returned the kiss, tongue fighting with the other's, though movements were sluggish, confused. Did alcohol really change the other that much? Not that he minded, of course, but...

Mahaado hesitated and withdrew from the kiss, gazing at Diabound questioningly - his eyes were darkened with the effects of the alcohol and the feel of Diabound, but a flicker of concern, and his old self, still ran through them. "What is it?" he murmured.

A bit more comfortable, Diabound smirked. "There's the man I know," he teased, kissing him lightly, almost abnormally so.

Mahaado closed his eyes at the light kiss, almost surprised by the gentleness. "I thought you preferred me drunk," he breathed after a moment, smiling faintly as he touched Diabound's cheek. "Sounds more like you were worried I was someone else."

"Only..." Diabound stopped himself, a bit of a snarl on his lips. "I do... It just takes some getting used to," he snapped at last, blue eyes resting on the other.

Mahaado didn't flinch under the sharp tone, instead pressing his lips gently to Diabound's again. "Do you want me to stop?" he breathed against the other's lips, one hand still in the other's pants, though stilled.

Diabound was silent for the moment. He wanted Mahaado, the Mahaado he knew and was attached to, however deeply said attachment ran and yet he also wanted this. Sex, probably mind-blowing in quality. "No, don't stop..."

Mahaado gazed at Diabound silently before he shifted his hand again, stroking Diabound slowly. "Mmn..." He leaned in to kiss at the other's neck again, trying to move gently and soothe Diabound's doubts, though he wasn't even sure why he had any - he'd stopped hesitating, stopped worrying over ever action, and wasn't that what Diabound wanted from him?

Diabound gave a light moan, urging the other on, trying to conceal his previous uneasiness. He had no reason for this, or at least no reason he'd admit too, so why act skittish? He ran his fingers through Mahaado's hair, head leaning back and pressing against the couch.

Mahaado shivered lightly, licking at Diabound's neck before drawing back again. His freed his hand from the other's pants, tugging at his shirt. "This, off," he murmured, before reaching back for the vodka to refill their glasses.

Another light moan and Diabound reluctantly let Mahaado pull back, curiously removing his shirt and letting it fall to the ground, covering one of the empty beer bottles. Reaching forward clumsily (the alcohol had finally really begun to sink in), Diabound grabbed his glass, once again downing it in one go.

Mahaado downed his own glass, making a soft noise at the taste, before he refilled their glasses once more and set the bottle down again. "Mmn..."

And again, Diabound drank it quickly, a lopsided grin on his lips, light pink hue to his tanned cheeks. The cool air on his bare chest made him shiver slightly, free hand reaching to weakly pull Mahaado back to him.

Mahaado, too, downed his shot, before setting the glass aside again, moving in where he was pulled. "Mm, Dia..." He shifted in, kissing at Diabound's chest instead, hands sliding over his hips.

Hips bucking upward at the contact, Diabound blindly tried to set the glass back on the table, releasing a few seconds earlier and the glass it the floor with a lucky thud. Deciding it hadn't broken, Diabound ignored it, falling onto his back and pulling Mahaado along with him, smirking and barely whispering a cocky (and breathless), "Yes?"

Mahaado smiled faintly, sliding up to breathe into Diabound's ear, "I want to have you," before he slid down and off the couch entirely, kneeling between Diabound's legs. Yanking Diabound's pants and boxers down his hips as far as he could, Mahaado took his length in without hesitation, sucking lightly.

It was now that Diabound seemed to catch on just how far Mahaado planned to go. Not that it would have been disturbing were it anyone else but this was Mahaado. This was the man who had almost started crying the previous night because he could possibly do something wrong.

Those thoughts were interrupted as he felt Mahaado's mouth around his length. This was almost too good to be true. "Ah, yess..."

Mahaado moaned lightly around Diabound, swallowing him in as much as he could and stroking his hips gently. Distantly, he knew he was just running on instinct, at this point - he, or, rather, the sober he, had never done anything like this before, but Mahaado wanted Diabound to know how it felt to be on the receiving end, for once.

Diabound lightly bucked into the other's mouth, fingers intertwining with Mahaado's hair, as if holding him in place. It'd been a while since he'd been on this end of things and for the moment? He couldn't see why not.

Mahaado continued this for a few more minutes before he finally withdrew, tongue trailing up his length lightly before pulling away completely. "Lie down," he breathed, shifting and pulling off his own shirt.

Disappointed at the sudden lack of contact, Diabound stroked himself for a moment before obeying, back against the cushion and blue eyes lingering lustfully on Mahaado.

Mahaado smiled faintly at Diabound expression, before shifting over him, pressing him down until they were lying length-wise across the couch. He shifted and pressed his lips to Diabound's once again, hands sliding down to fiddle with his pants, trying to get them off.

Kissing back roughly, Diabound gladly helped with Mahaado's pants, tongue forcefully probing into the other's mouth, not capable of playing a truly recessive part.

Mahaado moaned lightly into the kiss, kicking his pants aside before setting to work on Diabound's, working them down and stroking his length teasingly.

Back arching anxiously, Diabound gave a small moan himself, tongue prodding through Mahaado's mouth, claiming the increasingly familiar terrain as his own before slowly slipping back to tease, "My, for a new mother, you have no shame."

"Only for you," Mahaado whispered before drawing back, pressing his fingers to Diabound's lips instead. "Suck."

Diabound obeyed, tongue running along the tanned fingers before pulling them into his mouth, sucking lightly, offering a light moan in approval.

Mahaado smiled, a shiver running down his spine at how attractive Diabound looked beneath him at that moment. His free hand slid down Diabound's chest, tracing the muscles there gently.

Diabound continued to suck, drawing the fingers deep into his mouth, one hand cupping around Mahaado's wrist, blue eyes grinning up at the other, finding that Mahaado looked rather attractive in his current position as well ~~which left the question why hadn't they done this before~~.

Mahaado chuckled softly at the action, reluctantly drawing his fingers away again after a few moments, replacing them with his lips over Diabound's again. "Y'look so good," he breathed against the other's lips, settling between his legs and easing them apart.

Diabound spread his legs, wary for a moment on just what this was going to feel like. It wasn't as if he'd been topped any time recently, after all. Eyes closing for a moment to compose himself, he smirked up at Mahaado, "Same goes for you."

Mahaado gave another lazy smile, shifting back and gently pressing his slicked fingers to Diabound's entrance. "You think so?" he murmured, sliding his free hand over Diabound's length to distract him as his fingers started to press in.

Diabound winced for a moment, giving a deep breath before muttering a low, "Yeah." His back arched slightly, chest pressing against Mahaado's, gasping.

Mahaado gave a breathy moan at the sight, before shifting, pressing his lips to Diabound's neck hungrily. He stroked Diabound a bit harder, twisting his fingers and easing two of them deeper in.

Still wincing, Diabound ran his fingers through Mahaado's hair, trying to distract himself at the feel of that and not the -- another wince, shoulders hunching slightly as he moaned. He really should have thought more about what this was going to feel like.

"Feels different bein' on the other end, mm?" Mahaado breathed against Diabound's skin, though he slowed the motions of his fingers, allowing Diabound to get used to it.

Diabound forced a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "It's been a while is all... Not that bad," he promised.

Mahaado gently let go of Diabound's length to stroke his cheek affectionately, twisting his fingers gently. "Mmm, good..."

Diabound frowned for a moment as his member was left unattended but the expression quickly faded at Mahaado's touch. He licked his lips for a moment before leaning in slightly to kiss the other.

Mahaado leaned into the kiss with a gentle moan, pressing his fingers deeper for a moment or two before he withdrew them completely. Pressing Diabound's legs back a bit further with one hand, the other sliding through his hair, he drew back from the kiss. "Ready?"

Diabound matched the moan, tongue quickly licking off any saliva that had remained from the kiss. Giving a quick nod, "Go for it."

Mahaado smiled before shifting back, guiding his length and pressing into Diabound with a low moan. "G-god..." He gently thrust to get deeper into the other, gazing down at him with sheer hunger in his eyes.

Diabound's own expression was one mixed with pain and pleasure, cliché but true in the given situation. Fist gripping the bed sheets tightly, he tried to keep his smirk steady, not wanting it to falter.

Mahaado shuddered, pressing kisses to Diabound's jawline. "Relax," he murmured, between slightly labored breaths, "it'll feel good soon." He thrust slowly, reaching down and stroking Diabound again.

"I am relaxed," Diabound snapped, though the tightness of his muscles seemed to prove otherwise. He, too, was breathing heavily, slowly forcing himself to let go of the bed sheets and loosen up as he felt Mahaado's hand again, an approving moan escaping his lips.

Mahaado shivered, stroking Diabound a bit harder to try and help him relax and ease the pressure around his length a little. He gave a breathy moan into Diabound's shoulder before starting to thrust again, trying to find a sensitive spot inside him.

Back arching slightly, Diabound gave a small moan that only deepened when Mahaado successfully completed his mission. "Nngh..." Pleasure coursed quickly throughout his body, fists once again clenching the sheets, this time for a different reason.

Mahaado smiled at Diabound's reaction, thrusting again, a bit harder. "Better?" he breathed, stroking Diabound in time with his thrusts.

"Y-yeah, better," Diabound breathed, gasping as he spoke, eyes closing as he felt himself nearing release. Already? It seemed almost sad, but not like it was his fault he hadn't done this in a while.

Mahaado shivered, thrusting harder still as he, too, felt his release close in coming. He'd never felt anything as good as being inside Diabound, taking him, and it was almost too much for him.

With a loud moan, Diabound did release, eyes flickering open and breathing still heavy. "'Haadoo..."

Mahaado cried out softly as he felt Diabound suddenly clench around him, clinging to him as he found his own release sharply. "A-Ahn, Dia...!"

Leaning his head back against the arm of the couch, Diabound looked up at the other, chuckling and shaking his head. "No one is to find out about this..."

Mahaado smiled, pulling out of Diabound with a heavy breath and sliding into the space beside him. "Mmhmm," he murmured, head resting against Diabound's shoulder. "Was nice, though..."

"For you, maybe," Diabound snorted. "I'm going to hurt like hell tomorrow." He slid his arm around Mahaado, slightly glad to be back in what seemed a more normal position for the two of them. "Should I call Ryou and tell him to bring Yusra here tomorrow? Otherwise... he'll call the hotel."

"Don' know if I'll even remember, tomorrow," Mahaado breathed, shifting a bit more comfortably against Diabound and nuzzling his neck. "Mm, sure."

Diabound snorted, "You're going to forget me that easily? And here you said you weren't drunk." He eyed the phone for a moment, deciding calling was a little too much effort for the moment. "I'll do it later... If I remember."

Mahaado reached up, gently stroking Diabound's cheek. "Mm, I lied." He kissed Diabound's shoulder softly, smiling. "If I remember, I'll remind you."

"And now you're lying to me, too? I'm crushed," Diabound replied sarcastically, kissing the top of Mahaado's head for a moment. "... Alright. Worst case, he calls the hotel and I'm not there."

"Mmm," Mahaado murmured in agreement, hand sliding through Diabound's hair and working out the kinks gently. He still felt a content warmth running through him from the alcohol they'd drunk, and a bit drowsy against Diabound. "Still on the couch..."

"Still on the couch?" Diabound repeated, yawning as the motions soothed him. "Any chance you're tired?" he teased, nuzzling the other for a moment.

Mahaado smiled faintly, closing his eyes and snuggling close to Diabound. "Sleepy," he breathed. "Guess y'have to carry me back to the bed..."

Diabound smirked, "Or leave you on the couch." He closed his eyes as well. "We're fine like this. I don't feel like walking."

Mahaado cuddled against Diabound's chest, murmuring contently. "All right..." He slid up, kissing Diabound softly. "'Night, then."

Diabound returned the kiss, already well on his way to falling asleep. "Night, luhyew." The words weren't drawn out and really, he hadn't a clue what he had sort of said, but they were spoken nonetheless.

Mahaado hesitated a moment before snuggling tighter against Diabound's side, closing his eyes. The barely mumbled words didn't quite sink in as he slipped into sleep, though they brought a smile to his lips, regardless.

---

The next morning, a sharp pain awoke Diabound causing the half-Egyptian to curse loudly, jerking up from his sleeping position, pushing Mahaado unintentionally to the side. It didn't help that he had a pounding headache and...

Just why was he hurting there? Trying to think back to last night, he growled realizing the entire event was a blur. He looked to his side, studying Mahaado and making sure it was Mahaado and not some stranger, he gave a small frown. Well, now the pain definitely didn't make sense.

Mahaado made a soft noise as he was suddenly dropped from against Diabound to the couch, blinking sleepily. He tried to shift and sit up as well, only to find that his head didn't seem to like that idea, and was pounding sharply in protest. "Nngh..." He rolled onto his stomach, burying his head in the cushions as he tried to work out why he was on the couch in the first place, and why he felt like there was something drilling into his skull.

Diabound looked over to Mahaado who seemed to be feeling a similar pain and pushed him aside, lying on his stomach. He definitely was not going to sit like this. Head buried in the cushion as well, he muttered, "Just what the hell did you do to me?"

"Nnn...?" Mahaado questioned intelligently, tilting his head to squint at Diabound. He frowned, trying to think back... "Don' remember," he mumbled, curling up a bit.

"Lovely," Diabound murmured, rubbing his temples for a moment. "Well, whatever we did, I don't want to do it again, that's for sure."

"Mrrph." Mahaado slowly, reluctantly, squirmed up a bit, the couch a bit too crowded and his head still aching. He blinked blearily at the bottles and glasses scattered around nearby. "Di' we get drunk?" he mumbled, though he had a feeling he already knew the answer.

Diabound snorted, rolling his eyes though the other certainly couldn't see. "Gee, I wonder," he snapped sarcastically, "and before you ask, yes, we fucked, too."

"But..." Mahaado shifted uncertainly - he didn't feel the usual discomfort that followed a night of sex, though he certainly felt the aftereffects of the alcohol. "Mmf, I need a shower," he mumbled, crawling over Diabound and getting to his feet, somewhat unsteadily.

"But?" Diabound asked, head turning to watch the other as he climbed over. "Well. Go on then. I think I'm going to try and sleep it off."

"Nothing," Mahaado mumbled, grabbing his boxers and pulling them on, somewhat uselessly. He glanced at Diabound a bit worriedly before gathering up the empty bottles, trying hard to ignore his headache, and set them on the coffee table to take out later. He shuffled to the closet and pulled out a blanket, unfolding and draping it over Diabound. "Here."

Diabound gave a small grunt of thanks, shoulders shifting slightly to pull the blanket up closer to him. "Yeah, thanks," he muttered, glancing back at the other for a moment.

Mahaado smiled faintly at him before turning, heading back towards the bathroom to take his shower. Strangely, despite the headache and the fact that his stomach was starting to churn a bit, there was a strange feeling of happiness lingering in Mahaado's chest - he just couldn't entirely remember why.

Diabound, however, had no fluttery happy feeling in his chest, instead stuck with disgust and a severe hatred for the pain in his backside. One he couldn't do much to take care of at that, or it'd mean confessing to Mahaado just what was wrong with him and...

Well, it was embarrassing enough to think that maybe he had been dominated by Mahaado. He didn't want the other thinking it, too.

One shower later, and Mahaado was feeling a bit cleaner at least, and he figured a pot of coffee would at least help so that every noise didn't sound like it was physically drilling into his head. One towel wrapped around his waist, another he was using to dry out his hair, he headed out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen, glancing at Diabound on his way. "Coffee?"

Diabound looked up as the other spoke, head pounding with each syllable. "... Uh, sure..."

Mahaado winced and rubbed his temple as he headed into the bathroom and set about making a pot of coffee. As he waited for it, he tried his best to think back to the night before, but all he kept drawing up were fuzzy, barely distinct memories.

Diabound made no effort to recall the previous night, figuring that if he hurt like this he didn't want to remember. Forcing himself to sit up and grunting loudly, head leaned back against the couch, eyes squinting up at the light.

At long last, the coffee brewed, and Mahaado poured it into mugs, mixing milk and sugar into his, but leaving Diabound's as it was, figuring the other would want the strongest possible. He sighed and took a quick sip of his, although all he seemed to gain from it was a slightly scalded lip, before he carried his and Diabound's out to the living room. "Here..."

Taking the cup graciously, Diabound gave it a cautious sip, deciding it wasn't too hot and tilting a bit more into his mouth. Licking the extra from his lips, he sighed heavily.

Mahaado sat down beside Diabound, drinking his own coffee slowly. He was silent for a long moment before he glanced at Diabound. "Do you remember...?"

"No," Diabound spat quickly, taking another sip before shaking his head. "Don't and probably don't want to."

"Mm..." Mahaado looked away again, drinking thoughtfully. "Funny, it doesn't hurt as much as it usually does, after," he mumbled around the rim of his cup, gazing at the wall across from him. "Guess I must be getting used to it."

Diabound snorted. "Could say that," he muttered bitterly, rolling his eyes as he took a drink. The headache was still pounding but compare to earlier, it had calmed a bit.

Mahaado glanced at Diabound curiously for a moment before he settled back into the couch, exhaling lightly. He hated the feeling that he'd forgotten something, and he had a feeling Diabound knew more than he was letting on, but he didn't dare push to ask for more information.

Diabound rubbed Mahaado's hair roughly. "Oh, quit worrying, would you? We got drunk, had sex... How important can it be?"

Mahaado winced slightly at Diabound's rather forceful show of affection - or, perhaps affection wasn't the right word - but smiled nonetheless. "Yeah, I know, I know. Just feel like I've forgotten something important..."

"Well, I'm sure whatever it was, it wasn't that important or you wouldn't have forgotten it in the first place," Diabound muttered, drinking his coffee once again.

"Mm..." Mahaado drank slowly, closing his eyes and settling into the couch again. "What time is Ryou dropping Yusra off...?"

"I think he said he'd call," Diabound replied, squinting as he tried to remember back to a few days ago. "I'm pretty sure, at least. I should probably give him a call to let him know where I am but... Did I bring my cell phone?"

"You can use my phone, if you want," Mahaado said, opening his eyes again. "It's in the kitchen."

Diabound sighed for a moment, thinking this through. Walking wasn't exactly the thing he was looking forward to at the moment. "Eh, I'll wait. I'm sure he assumes I'm hung over."

"Well, you are," Mahaado said lightly, smiling. He took another drink before he said, "So, are you going to stay here, or...?" He remembered their conversations before they'd gotten really drunk, about Yusra and staying at the apartment, and he glanced at Diabound curiously.

Diabound thought for a moment, shrugging slightly. "I... don't know," he replied at last, taking another quick sip of coffee before continuing. "It seems like it's asking a lot of you and while I don't doubt that you'd be a wonderful mother... I'm not sure if it's a position I should really put you in."

Mahaado blushed, reaching out to touch Diabound's hand lightly. "That's sweet of you," he murmured, smiling. "But, at least this way we could...give it a test run, I guess? Before we go through with getting a house and all that, we can...make sure we'd really be able to stand living together."

"Not a bad idea, I suppose," Diabound replied after a moment of silence. "It'll be nice not living out of a hotel room, too, I'm sure." He chuckled dryly as he finished off his coffee, setting it on the coffee table.

Mahaado nodded. "And it'll be nice having you around. So long as you can put up with me reading late into the night, I'm sure we'll get along fine." He shifted a bit closer, sliding his hand into Diabound's.

"If you can put up with my constant whining to Yusra, then I'm sure we'll be just a delightful match," Diabound teased. "Maybe I'll even let you change her diapers."

"Oh, but I think that's her daddy's job," Mahaado teased lightly, resting his head on Diabound's shoulder. "I wouldn't want to take away that honor from you."

Diabound rolled his eyes. "And a delightful job it is... Come to think of it, I really should buy her more than just two outfits." He snickered, nuzzling into Mahaado. "And possibly a toy or two so she'll give me my shirt back."

Mahaado laughed softly at that. "In that case, I think I'd best help you with the shopping. I'd be afraid of what you'd buy for her, if left unattended."

"Oh? Mommy can pick out clothes but can't change a diaper? I don't think that's fair," Diabound taunted, kissing the other lightly against his lips and then giving a rather skeptical look. Were they really beginning to resemble a married couple that much? ... Or even just a couple for that matter.

Mahaado leaned into the kiss, smiling teasingly. "Oh, but shopping is always the mother's job." He chuckled, moving to set down his own cup before settling against Diabound's side.

"And so is diaper changing, usually," Diabound shrugged, arm draping around the other. "This is getting disgusting, you know?"

Mahaado chuckled, nuzzling into Diabound's side a bit. "Think of something else to talk about, then," he murmured, stroking Diabound's chest lightly.

Diabound frowned for a moment, wondering if something like this is what had started last night before brushing the thought away. "My head hurts too much to come up with a conversation."

"Mm, then just...stay right there," Mahaado murmured, closing his eyes and tucking his legs onto the couch, leaning against him. "You're comfy."

Diabound sighed, leaning back and relaxing, fingers rubbing small circles on Mahaado's shoulder. He said nothing more, not wanting to bother with a trivial conversation when his head was still pounding in the manner it was.

Mahaado felt warm and comfortable against Diabound, and the lack of movement at least served to calm his headache and allow him some amount of peace, for the moment. He felt himself drowsing off a bit against Diabound, much as he tried to stay awake, his hand stilling against Diabound's chest.

Diabound glanced down, seeing that Mahaado was already drifting into sleep and chuckling lightly. "Why don't we go lie back down in your bed? It may be more comfortable and serve both of us better."

Mahaado blinked sleepily and nodded, yawning softly. "'Kay," he murmured, slowly squirming a bit, though he found moving only reminded him of his headache, and he winced.

Watching the other wince, Diabound frowned, squirming slightly himself and pushing himself to his feet only to stumble forward and grab the arm of the couch, a bitter, "Fuck," escaping his lips. That had hurt a little too much. "... Maybe the couch is a better idea after all."

Mahaado slowly clambered to his feet, sliding an arm around Diabound, supporting him gently - vaguely he wondered why being hung over would make walking painful, but he decided not to question it. "I'll help; we can make it."

Diabound shot him a glare but it softened quickly as he realized the bed probably was a lot more comfortable than the couch. "Alright, alright. Lead the way."

Mahaado smiled faintly and guided Diabound to the bedroom, supporting him as much as he needed. Once they finally made it to the bed, Mahaado shifted and took Diabound's hand, crawling onto it with a faint yawn.

Diabound crawled on the bed quickly, more than thankful to finally have reached their destination and lying on his stomach. "Nng...." With a groan, he turned his head slightly to look at the other, forcing his usual smirk. "Aren't I just delightful hung over?"

Mahaado laughed softly, pulling out and crawling under the sheets with a soft sigh. "About as much as I am," he murmured, smiling at Diabound. He reached out, running his fingers lightly through the other's hair.

Diabound snorted, relaxing a bit at the touch. "Can't imagine you're this way often. Used to be every morning for me." Not so much anymore, of course, but that went without saying.

Mahaado smiled wider, fingers brushing gently over Diabound's bangs. "I don't think I'd be able to handle it as well if you weren't here, so." He shifted a little closer to Diabound. "Coming under the covers?"

Diabound rolled his eyes before replying, "I don't plan on moving for a very long time." He was in enough pain as it was. No use to make himself more miserable, right?

"And here I thought you were used to hangovers," Mahaado teased gently, sliding over and curling up next to Diabound, still under the covers. "But suit yourself."

Deciding to pretend it was indeed the hangover, Diabound simply gave a loose shrug. "I haven't had one in a while. What can I say?" The other felt warm at his side, a rather comforting feeling.

Mahaado gently found Diabound's hand with his own again, squeezing it lightly. "Well, I'm here for you," he murmured, smiling, before he closed his eyes, settling down.

Diabound sighed, squeezing back before lacing their fingers together. "Mmhmm." He followed suit, closing his eyes as well with a tired yawn.

Mahaado smiled faintly, curling up and drawing their joined hands together, nuzzling them gently. Content, he found himself once again drifting off, and this time he let sleep claim him, warm and, for now, free of the repercussions of the night before.

Sat, 22 Jul 2006 17:57:38 GMT

Characters: Diabound Bakura (goldenfetish) and Mahaado (deja_blue_)

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Somewhat backdated. While Ryou's taking care of Yusra, Diabound takes the chance to go out drinking. He runs into Mahaado, they go together, and then head back to Mahaado's apartment. Talk of moving in together and sex ensues.

Mahaado was taking the stairs two at a time on his way to Diabound's hotel room, unable to shake the feeling that he had to hurry. In the past three weeks, despite his promise to help, he hadn't seen as much of Diabound as he would have liked, and then personal matters had started arising and taking even more of his time, and - he took the stairs a bit faster, breath coming heavy, until he was finally striding down the hallway to Diabound's room. He wasn't sure what he was so anxious about, but then, when it came to Diabound and not seeing him - once bitten, twice shy.

Perfect timing really; dressed in a rather shabby t-shirt and baggy pair of jeans, Diabound looked less than ideal, worsened as he grabbed a ragged sweatshirt and slid it over his head, blue eyes occasionally darting to the mirror only to decide he didn't care what he looked like. (After all, didn't he always look perfect? Of course.) Figuring he was ready, he grabbed his wallet, sliding it into his back pocket and moving to open the door to the hotel room, face taking on a neutral expression as he caught sight of Mahaado. "You're a little late you know," came the blunt comment as Diabound shut the door behind him. "She's not here. Could have tried anytime earlier these past few weeks though, really."

Mahaado was startled by Diabound's sudden appearance at the door just as he'd been about to knock, and took a couple of steps backwards, lowering his eyes. "Sorry," he murmured. "A lot of things came up at once and I...I tried to reach you, but then you weren't in, or..."

"Or a little busy myself," Diabound corrected, agitated sigh escaping his mouth. "Is there something you wanted?" Go figure the one time he had any free time, Mahaado would show up. Not that it was an entirely bad thing but -- No, it was. He wanted out of here. He wanted his ~~well deserved~~ drink.

Mahaado shook his head slightly, adjusting his glasses. "Just...wanted to see you. See how you were doing, and..." He trailed off, sighing lightly. "I won't keep you."

Diabound glanced him over for a moment, containing what would have ended up being a loud groan. "I'm doing wonderfully, thanks for inquiring." For a moment, he seemed unsure of what else to say; he wanted out of there, right? Wanted his drink, wanted away from Mahaado? So why hadn't he walked off yet?

Mahaado gazed at Diabound for a moment, feeling rather awkward as he realized Diabound didn't seem to be leaving. "I--I can come back, some other time, if you're doing something. I mean, I just came to--but you're obviously busy so--" He blushed, staring at the carpet. "Sorry."

Eyes rolling, Diabound just nodded. "I'm going out for a drink." Stating the fact for no reason at all? That wasn't like him. Another moment of awkward silence and Diabound gave in, "You want to join me?"

Mahaado blinked, not having expected the invitation - somehow, it seemed more of Diabound's style to drink alone. His face split into a smile, and he walked over to Diabound. "Sure," he said.

Not having expected to be turned down (but still slightly hoping) Diabound only nodded, "Shouldn't be far from here. We can walk." That said, he turned his back to Mahaado and started for the elevator.

Mahaado followed Diabound, smiling faintly to himself. While it may not have been much, Diabound's sacrifice of pride and private drinking time for his sake was a lot to Mahaado, who knew that it wasn't the sort of sacrifice Diabound was used to making for anyone.

Diabound didn't bother speaking to Mahaado in the elevator, blue eyes focused on the door instead, trying not to let his mind wander too far, as it'd been known to do lately.

Mahaado kept the silence up for a little while, before a thought occured to him. He glanced at Diabound and risked breaking the silence to ask quietly, "Do you know what you're going to do about next year?"

"For school?" Diabound inquired, looking over to him and folding his arms across his chest. The elevator stopped once, doors opening and revealing no one on the other side. Closing again, he idly glanced to the number. 12 more floors. Just lovely.

Mahaado nodded, letting his gaze wander to the rest of the elevator. "I mean, I know managing school and a child would be hard, but, unless they do decide to make everyone repeat last year over again as they've been talking about, this next year would've been your last."

Shrugging, Diabound replied, "Either way, I'll probably drop out. I don't have the time for both and I'm not just going to stuff her in some day care center." He'd given the situation some thought himself and really, what other option did he have? He was having enough trouble (though he wouldn't admit it) now, why add on college courses to the mix?

Mahaado nodded, smiling distantly. "I figured you probably would." He leaned against a wall of the elevator, watching the numbers change slowly. "It'll be strange, not having you in my class."

"I was rarely there anyway." He sighed for a moment, fidgeting awkwardly and obviously not yet used to Yusra not being with him. "The money I got -- I've got enough for a decent house and I can live off of it for a while, but..."

The elevator reached the bottom floor. "Never mind, let's go."

Mahaado paused a moment before he followed Diabound out of the elevator. He chewed on his lower lip, mulling over his next words before he finally decided to just take a risk. Catching up in stride with Diabound, he said, "I...because we didn't have a last semester, I didn't get paid, and if the school doesn't get restarted again, I'll have to look for a new job, which could take a while, and... Well, I have some money saved, but, if you bought a house, maybe we could, uhm..." He blushed, stumbling over his words. "I mean, never mind, that's a stupid idea."

Diabound gave him a rather confused look, before it returned to a nonchalant stare. "I'm not going to take your money," he replied stiffly before walking to the hotel door. Mahaado couldn't be serious. Why offer to support someone else? Someone else who clearly didn't deserve it?

Mahaado blushed lightly, shaking his head. "It's not so much that as it is... We could pool our resources?" He glanced up at Diabound before continuing, "Since it would be cheaper to share one place than to continue paying for two different places, and I could help with Yusra, and--" And I could see you more often than once a month, he finished silently, lowering his gaze again.

Diabound scoffed at that, "Yes, help like you've been helping, I take it?" He shook his head, "Don't bother. I can manage on my own."

That one had stung worse than Diabound had perhaps intended, though even Mahaado wasn't sure why - Yusra wasn't even his responsibility, and yet a part of him had almost started to believe that she was, and it hurt when Diabound stated the truth, that he couldn't even keep good to his word in helping him with her. He didn't say anything more, lowering his eyes and slipping his hands into his pockets.

They made it to the bar in silence, Diabound pushing open the door and stepping inside, inhaling the delightful scent he'd been without these past few weeks. Wasting no time, he moved straight for the bar and took a seat, ordering his drink and turning his attention back to Mahaado.

Mahaado ordered as well, the strongest thing that came to mind - funny, before Diabound had entered his life, and before everything had started unraveling, Mahaado had never been very fond of the taste of alcohol. He glanced at Diabound once he ordered, smiling faintly.

Diabound nodded, his only acknowledgement of Mahaado's smile as he gulped down his drink almost as soon as it reached him.

Mahaado, however, handled his drink more slowly. He took it in both hands and held it for a while, taking occasional sips as his mind started to wander. "You're doing a good thing, keeping Yusra," he said at last after a long silence, quietly as if he didn't intend for Diabound to hear.

Diabound, however, did hear it and only nodded, "Of course. Not like I'd willingly get rid of her." More than he liked to admit, but thankfully, the alcohol was already kicking in.

Mahaado smiled faintly, swallowing down a good portion of his drink before releasing a shaky breath. "I know," he said softly, smiling to himself. "And I know you'll take good care of her. And...I promise I'll be around more often, to help. Now that things are taken care of, I don't have to go anywhere again."

Diabound shrugged, accepting the next drink the bartender brought him, and sipping quickly. No use reflecting on that now. "Where were you anyway?"

Mahaado's smile dimmed faintly with sadness as he traced the moisture gathering on his glass. "My mother - rather, my foster mother - was in the hospital, so I said I'd go down and see her. It was all last minute, unexpected sort of thing, so I didn't get a chance to tell you before I left."

"It's fine," Diabound replied, waving his hand dismissively. "I didn't expect you to stick around anyway, really." He took another sip, free hand running through his hair. Family first, right? Tch.

Mahaado paused, glancing at him. "Didn't expect me to...?"

Diabound returned the glance, simply shrugging yet again. "No -- it's not your mess, I can't see why you'd want to bother with it."

"Because I want to," Mahaado said, gazing at him with a serious expression. "I said I would because I want to, because I want to help you and because I like you both, you and Yusra."

Diabound finished his drink, setting the glass aside and watching Mahaado silently for a moment. "How do you think moving in with a student is going to look as far as your teaching career is concerned?"

Mahaado glanced at Diabound, smiling almost wryly. "If you're dropping out, you won't be a student anymore. But," he paused, faint surprise flickering over his features, "I thought you said you didn't want to move in together."

Diabound smirked at him for a moment, "Hypothetically speaking. Even as a former student... It'd do wonders for your image, you know?" Not that, of course, wonders hadn't already been done.

"I think my image is already wrecked beyond repair, even without your help," Mahaado said, smiling faintly, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Diabound nodded slowly, tanned fingers moving to trace along Mahaado's chin. "I don't know why I'm even considering this," he laughed.

Mahaado blushed under the touch, reaching up to touch his hand lightly. "Maybe because it would mean I'd always be nearby when you wanted sex?" he teased lightly, kissing Diabound's fingertips.

"Mm, yes, that was the first thought that crossed my mind," Diabound replied, fingers pressing against Mahaado's lips before he bent down and pressed his lips to them. "Convince me that it's worth my time?"

Mahaado leaned into the kiss, a warm shiver running down his spine. "What, right here?" he breathed, reaching out to run his fingers through Diabound's hair.

"Well, here or we could go back to the hotel, though really, I don't think I've had enough to drink..." Diabound smirked, breath hot against the other's lips before his tongue darted across them.

Mahaado swallowed lightly at that, lips parting almost subconciously. "I think the hotel might be smarter," he breathed. "Can't we take anything to go?"

Tongue flickering into Mahaado's mouth and then out again, running playfully along the other's lips, Diabound snickered, "Alright. Worst case we'll just order something in the hotel."

Mahaado was almost frozen under Diabound's ministrations, though he leaned in slightly, shyly letting his tongue peek out to meet Diabound's a little. "Sounds good," he whispered once he'd returned his tongue to his mouth, blushing from both the effects of the alcohol and the effects of Diabound.

Diabound pulled back, climbing from the barstool and taking Mahaado's hand in his, only to tug him along, moving quickly to the entrance, stumbling slightly.

Mahaado laughed lightly, following after Diabound as best he could. "I think you're already a bit tipsy," he said, squeezing Diabound's hand lightly.

"Not enough," Diabound noted, eyeing the hand for a moment before shrugging it off. He pushed the hotel door open, quickly making it to the elevator.

Mahaado stumbled a bit as he was pulled into the elevator, and he fell into Diabound's arm as the younger man stopped. "You really want to be drunk before we even get to do anything?" he asked, half-teasing, as he continued to hold Diabound's hand.

"We can wait until after, I suppose," Diabound smirked, turning Mahaado to face him. "But I will get drunk."

Mahaado blushed, shifting forward and sliding his arms around Diabound's neck. "I might just join you in that," he admitted after a moment. "But first, I think I was supposed to convince you of something?" He smiled, stroking Diabound's cheek and drawing him in closer.

Diabound's hands went to Mahaado's hips, pressing against him, leaning in and kissing him lightly. "Oh? Here?" Not that he minded, of course, and technically, this was the hotel... So they'd reached their destination.

Mahaado smiled lazily, pressing a soft kiss to Diabound's lips in return. "Maybe not here, but...it is a long ride up." He pressed his body against Diabound's, leaning into his chest and sliding his hands through his hair, gazing at him. "What do you propose we do to pass the time?"

Diabound smirked against the other's lips for a moment. "Well, I certainly wasn't against this," he explained simply, shrugging.

Mahaado smiled faintly, drawing Diabound in and kissing him again, merely giving a small, pleased noise of assent as his response.

Diabound turned them so Mahaado's back was against the side of the elevator, pressing his lips against the other's roughly, tongue hungrily lapping against the skin. His hands drifted to the other's sides, resting there and holding him close. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad after all.

Mahaado moaned faintly in return, lips parting to draw Diabound's tongue in as he pressed up tighter against Diabound, spikes of arousal running through his body. His hands fisted in Diabound's hair and shirt as he kissed him back as best he could, shivering.

Tongue eagerly probing into Mahaado's mouth, Diabound rubbed slightly up against the other, eyes half-lidded in lust, lips curved (as much as possible) into a smirk.

Tensing slightly, Mahaado gasped as the motion made contact with a place that was getting rapidly more sensitive, and he squirmed a little to return the pressure. His tongue slid against the intruding one, the taste of alcohol and Diabound enough to make him hazy with a growing lust.

One hand snaking around to rest on the small of Mahaado's back, Diabound continued to rub against him, eyes remaining open if only to keep an eye on Mahaado's expression. His tongue probed against the others, hips moving almost rhythm-like against Mahaado's.

Mahaado was finally forced to withdraw from the kiss as he found it harder and harder to breathe, clinging desperately to Diabound as he moaned breathily. "God, Diabound..."

Diabound smirked, own breathing labored as he rested his forehead on Mahaado's shoulder. "How did you ever survive without me?" he taunted.

Nestling his face in the crook of Diabound's neck to hide his dark blush, Mahaado murmured, "Only you make me like this." He trembled slightly, vision hazed with arousal, but still he was able to make out the numbers above the elevator doors, slowly climbing their way up. "Almost there."

Grinning against the other, Diabound pulled back then, glancing to the number as well. Sure enough, one more flo--

Ah, there they were. Back turned to Mahaado, he left the elevator and made his way to his room, unlocking the door and frowning at just how small it really was. Surprising he'd spent his last few weeks or so in here, but eh, didn't really matter.

Mahaado was forced to take a moment to recover and readjust his skewed glasses before he made his way out of the elevator after Diabound, and even then walking steadily was difficult. He stopped in the doorway just behind Diabound, glancing up at him. "What is it?"

"Nothing," came the quick reply, Diabound moving to shut the door behind Mahaado and then flashing him a predatory grin. Attention back on Mahaado, or more what he wanted to do with Mahaado, he nodded towards the bed. "Don't waste time." That said, he took a seat himself, back pressed against the headboard.

Mahaado felt his cheeks burn at that grin that never failed to make his knees weaken. He followed after Diabound, hesitating only a moment before pulling off his glasses and then his shirt. Clambering onto the bed, he slowly shifted over him, straddling his legs and gazing at him, waiting for what he should do next.

Hands wrapping around Mahaado's waist, Diabound pulled him closer again, landing another rough kiss on his lips. Tanned fingers traced along the lower part of Mahaado's back, blue eyes settling on the other's for a moment, a hint of a smirk dancing in them.

Mahaado shivered again under the touch, half-sprawled in Diabound's lap from being pulled in, and he withdrew from the kiss if only to meet Diabound's eyes better. After a moment, his hands found the other's cheeks, and he kissed the Diabound's skin lightly, lips brushing over his scar, before his lips found Diabound's neck, almost shyly.

Watching for a moment with an interested expression, Diabound contained a snicker that threatened to escape his lips. Leaning back to expose his neck better to Mahaado, his head rested against the headboard as well, eyes open and focused on the ceiling.

Mahaado, though he had very little idea of what he was doing, slowly trailed kisses and licks down Diabound's neck, hands slipping under his shirt to brush over his muscled chest appreciatively.

Idly, Diabound moved one hand, fingers running through Mahaado's hair, giving a small grunt of consent. Relaxing moreso than before, his eyes flickered shut, glad for a chance to have company other than his sniveling daughter. ~~Yes, instead it was a sniveling Mahaado, but much like with Yusra, Diabound didn't entirely mind the company.~~

Encouraged, Mahaado continued his gentle ministrations, hands sliding up further as he daringly nipped at Diabound's skin instead. He tried to think what Diabound would enjoy, desperate to - even if he couldn't in any other way - make him happy here.

Moaning softly, Diabound's smirk shifted into almost what could have been considered a smile. Fingers continued to trail through the other's hair, relishing in the sheer softness of it, a comforting feeling.

Mahaado relaxed a bit under the touch, letting his teeth rake lightly over Diabound's skin. He finally let one hand wander downwards again, stroking the skin just above the hem of Diabound's pants questioningly.

Diabound arched slightly, free hand running along the contour of Mahaado's back. "Go ahead," he murmured, breathing heavily.

Mahaado shivered and slowly undid Diabound's pants, his free hand working up his shirt in the meantime. He shifted a bit, so his mouth was near Diabound's ear before he murmured, "What do you want me to do...?"

Diabound smirked slightly, eyes opening halfway and focusing on Mahaado. "No creativity of your own?" he teased.

Mahaado blushed, lowering his gaze a little. "I just...don't know what you like," he mumbled, fiddling with hem of Diabound's now-opened pants. "I don't want to do something stupid."

Diabound had to laugh at this one, shrugging slightly as not to his Mahaado. "Can't think of a single thing? I'm almost disappointed -- you know, this really isn't a good way to convince me to let you be Yusra's mother." He flashed him a cocky smirk, his way to show he was teasing -- at least, sort of teasing.

Mahaado blinked, eyes widening a little - he didn't recall mentioning wanting to be Yusra's mother - and he drew back, gazing at Diabound. "It's not that I can't," he protested, somewhat weakly. "It's just I... If I do something, and you don't like it, I'll..."

Diabound snorted at the reaction. "Kidding, of course, but really. Aren't you supposed to be convincing me all on your own that we should share a house together? How will I have any fun at all if you ask me to pick each time?"

Mahaado was silent for a moment, chewing his lower lip as he debated internally, before he nodded slightly. He rested one hand on Diabound's shirt, tugging at it lightly. "Take this off...?"

Diabound obeyed, pulling the fabric up over his head and tossing it to a chair at the side of the bed, tongue trailing across his bottom lip.

Mahaado quickly lowered his eyes to Diabound's chest so he wouldn't stare at his tongue, fingers tracing over the muscles lightly. Gathering his courage, he leaned in, kissing and nipping at Diabound's chest as he slipped one hand into his opened pants, worming it under his boxers and stroking him lightly.

Diabound bucked into Mahaado's hand, back arching at the touch and a low, appreciative moan escaping his lip. "That's more like it," he murmured, resting on hand on the other's shoulder.

Mahaado shivered and continued, trailing his lips lower and lower. He paused for a moment so he could squirm his knees backwards and kneel more comfortably, before he glanced up at Diabound. "These, too," he said, tugging a little at Diabound's pants.

Diabound chuckled, moving to slide out his pants, tossing them aside as well, though they didn't quite make the chair. He relaxed against the headboard, smirk never fading. Yes, not a bad evening at all.

Mahaado, trying not to let his normally reserved behaviour get to him, slid downwards again, gently easing Diabound's boxers down as best he could. He placed a soft kiss on Diabound's stomach, hands slowly stroking his arousal, before he shifted further down and replaced them with first tongue and then mouth.

Diabound arched slightly at the touch, a small gasp escaping his lips, smirk fading ever so slightly to be replaced with a more neutral expression, one hand moving to trail through Mahaado's hair, pushing him down slightly.

Mahaado made a soft noise as he took Diabound into his mouth, going slowly to accomodate the size, despite Diabound's eager push. His fingers stroked what he couldn't take in, one hand sliding over Diabound's hip and leg meanwhile.

Moaning, Diabound's fingers intertwined in the other's hair. Shaking slightly at the touch, his eyes squeezed shut, waves of pleasure rocking his body.

Encouraged by Diabound's moans, which were starting to make Mahaado's pants uncomfortable as well, he started sucking lightly, using his tongue experimentally to try and figure out what drew the best reaction from the man beneath him.

Diabound pressed his own head into the headboard, breathing heavily and obviously pleased. He lasted a moment before moaning again, gripping tightly on the other's hair.

Mahaado continued his actions with a growing fervor, nearly breathless and aroused, but determined to finish what he started. He sucked harder still, hands sliding over his skin and faint moans escaping his throat.

Slightly amused that Mahaado was enjoying this almost as much as he was, Diabound loosened his grip on the other's hair, only to quickly tighten it again, moaning loudly as he released into the other's mouth, hunching forward slightly.

Mahaado hadn't been expecting Diabound's release, and he nearly choked at the sudden rush of liquid, withdrawing himself carefully so he could swallow it. Much as he disliked the taste, he had a feeling spitting it out on the bed sheets was a bad idea, and he doubted he could even walk at this point, let alone get to the bathroom. He panted lightly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and rubbing his slightly sore jaw.

Eyes now open, Diabound watched him with a humored expression on his face. "Was it that bad?" he teased, pushing Mahaado backwards and crawling over him, legs on either side.

Mahaado blushed, shifting where he was pushed, his eyes never leaving Diabound's. "I was going to ask you the same thing," he murmured, reaching up to thread his fingers through Diabound's hair.

"Well, I certainly enjoyed it on my end," Diabound murmured, tongue trailing across his lips, grinning darkly at the other before kissing along his jawline, hands fiddling with the hem of Mahaado's pants.

"I'm glad," Mahaado breathed, tilting his chin up slightly. He trembled slightly in arousal, arching his hips upwards a bit to encourage Diabound onwards. "Nn..."

Savoring the feeling of having control again, Diabound watched the other for a moment before unzipping Mahaado's pants, pulling them down as far as possible without having to move and trailing eager, rough kisses along his jaw and neck.

Mahaado quickly shifted to help him with the pants, reaching down to work them off and squirming his legs until they were kicked aside. He did the same with his boxers, until at last they were both naked, and he moaned faintly under the kisses.

Diabound's hands trailed over Mahaado's body as his kisses continued, moving lower still, stopping at the collarbone and biting softly against the flesh.

Ah..." Mahaado gasped softly at the bite, sqiurming a little under his hands, desperate for contact. "D-Dia...mmn..."

Diabound's right hand made contact with the other's erection, stroking softly. "Yes?" His tone had an almost taunting ring to it, though his eyes hinted to an almost smile.

Mahaado arched, moaning in relief as his arousal was finally tended to, his arms wrapping tight around Diabound's neck. He gazed up at Diabound, catching a hint of softness in his eyes, and smiling somewhat dazedly. "Please," he breathed.

Diabound only smirked in response, inserting one finger into Mahaado's entrance, a bit quickly, gentle ministrations gone. His lips met Mahaado's again, tongue hungrily probing into the other's mouth.

Gasping, Mahaado groaned and squirmed a little at the unexpected intrusion. The contact was much rougher without lubrication, and it took Mahaado a bit longer to adjust, his fingers pressing into the skin of Diabound's back.

Second finger joining in, Diabound took careful notice of Mahaado's expression. Huskily he whispered, "You okay?"

"F-fine," Mahaado whispered, though he tensed a little at the next finger, breath coming quickly. He desperately tried not to let his discomfort show - after all, it couldn't be that long before it would start feeling good again, and Mahaado could bear it until then.

Kissing the other again, fingers making a scissoring motion, Diabound let his unoccupied hand trace Mahaado's hips, receiving a small sense of delight from the feel of the elder man.

Mahaado kissed Diabound back in an attempt to distract himself, gripping his hair in one hand and his shoulder with the other. Slowly, he started to adjust to the feeling of the fingers inside him, and he moaned gently.

Not breaking the kiss, Diabound replaced his fingers with his erection, containing a small gasp of pleasure, thrusting softly, letting the other get used to the feeling.

Mahaado choked back a soft cry, the friction of Diabound's arousal a steady burn through his insides, and much greater than just two fingers. He shuddered, legs wrapping around Diabound's waist for a slightly more comfortable position as he fought not to squirm.

Tongue darting through Mahaado's mouth, Diabound slowly increased his pace, searching for that particular spot that would have Mahaado thinking little about the pain.

Mahaado's tongue pressed back against Diabound's desperately as he started to relax at last. However, he tensed only a moment later as he felt Diabound's arousal brush against a sensitive spot, causing his spine to arch and a sharp groan to loose from his throat into the kiss.

Breaking the kiss, Diabound gasped for air and thrust again into that spot, a throaty moan escaping his lips as well. Pleasure coursed through his body, sweat glistening on his brow.

Mahaado cried out softly as his nerves were pressed into hard, and it was all he could do not to writhe beneath Diabound, desperate for release. "G-god, Diabound...!"

Another hard thrust, the rhythm became quick and rough. A smirk danced on Diabound's lips, though pleasure was obvious in his eyes. "Yes, professor?" he teased.

Mahaado moaned softly, pleadingly, his nails leaving shallow indents in Diabound's skin. "Can't--can't for much longer," he breathed sharply, shuddering.

Diabound grinned, his own back arching inwardly, one hand stroking Mahaado's erection. He gave a small moan as well, cutting himself off as he kissed the elder.

Mahaado's gasp was muffled against Diabound's lips as he found his release, arching into Diabound's hand with a low moan. He was forced to break the kiss quickly in order to breathe as he fell back into the bed, dazed.

As Mahaado's muscles tightened, Diabound released as well, moaning and resting a moment before pulling out and moving to rest beside Mahaado. He brushed his fingers across the other's cheek, a strong sense of comfort in just being able to feel the other.

Mahaado closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, feeling sated and warm against the other. He gently shifted closer, until he was curled against Diabound's chest, head nestled against his neck.

Diabound wrapped his arms around Mahaado, holding him for a moment before noting, "We're on the wrong end of the bed." He made no effort to remedy the situation, far too comfortable and far too pleased.

Mahaado smiled at that, slipping his own arms around Diabound and stroking his back slowly. "I don't mind, here," he breathed. He mentally noted that Diabound never had gotten more alcohol, but he decided not to mention it, not wanting Diabound to move away.

"Mmhmm," Diabound murmured, the other's presence almost enough to relax him entirely. "You weren't serious though, were you? About moving in with me?"

Mahaado fell sillent, eyes lowered, as his fingers traced spirals over Diabound's skin. "It was only a silly idea," he murmured after a long moment, smiling weakly against Diabound's chest.

Receiving mixed messages, Diabound nodded, fingers running through the other's hair. "Alright then," he replied as the answer was finally given, deciding to drop the topic.

Mahaado nuzzled Diabound lightly, closing his eyes - much as he might have liked the idea of living with Diabound, he hadn't much expected the other to go for the idea. They weren't "dating," after all.

Diabound, however, hadn't entirely been against Mahaado moving in with him, but for one reason or another, he hadn't taken the offer seriously. Why should he? His own eyes closing, Diabound frowned, noting carelessly, "I never got drunk."

"Mm..." Mahaado stroked Diabound's back for a moment before opening his eyes, gazing up at him again. "Do you have to go right now...?" he murmured.

"Guess not," Diabound muttered, stretching. A bit disappointing, but he could wait. Ryou had offered to take care of Yusra for two nights, right?

Mahaado slid up a little so he could plant a light kiss on Diabound's lips. "You know I won't make you stay," he murmured, running a hand through Diabound's hair. "Go, if you want."

Diabound returned the kiss, pulling Mahaado back to him. "I can stay," he assured the other, fingers running across the small of Mahaado's back.

Mahaado smiled, settling back down and nestling his head on Diabound's shoulder. "Thank you," he breathed, shivering faintly at the fingers on his back, his own sliding up and down Diabound's back.

"Mmhmm," came the low reply, Diabound shifting slightly to get comfortable. He didn't say anything else, finding that there was really nothing to say.

Mahaado closed his eyes, feeling drowsy from his release and sated against Diabound. "Hey," he breathed softly against Diabound's shoulder. "What would you have said, if I'd said I was serious about moving in?"

"I would have asked what sort of house you'd prefer," Diabound replied, head moving and sinking into the pillow. His tone was matter-of-fact and simple, small smirk on his face, though he knew Mahaado wouldn't see it.

Mahaado was startled out of his drowse for a moment, opening his eyes to glance up at Diabound. Diabound's smirk, however, made him think the other was joking, and he settled again. "A small one," he said with a faint smile. "With somewhere where I can put my books, and a room for us and a room for Yusra."

"So we'd share a room?" Diabound asked, eyebrow raised, hand running along Mahaado's back. "And what about those nights I decided to come home late? Wouldn't that bother you?"

"I'd be all right," Mahaado said with a smile, joining his hands on Diabound's back. "I'm not that light of a sleeper, anyway. Besides, would you rather have seperate beds, and make sex that much less convenient?" he teased.

"True, but how long do you think you could tolerate me waking you up in the middle of the night to sleep with me?" Diabound replied, nuzzling lightly into the top of Mahaado's head.

Mahaado chuckled softly, blushing lightly at the affectionate gesture. "And you're suggesting you wouldn't, anyway, if we slept in seperate beds?"

"True, true," Diabound replied, licking his lips, tanned fingers now running along Mahaado's cheekbone. "Either way though, it's not happening, hmm? So no use wasting our time planning it out."

Mahaado was silent a moment, leaning into the touch and closing his eyes briefly. "Are you sure it...can't happen?" he murmured softly, fingers tightening around each other on Diabound's back.

"I never said it couldn't," came the simply reply, Diabound moving yet again to get comfortable. The touch was nice, relaxing even, and as much as he'd prefer not to admit it, he was glad Mahaado had decided to visit him.

Once again surprised by Diabound's apparent willingness, Mahaado decided to take the risk, shifting and gently nuzzling at Diabound's neck as he whispered, "I'd like it to. Even if it is only a silly idea."

Diabound nodded for a moment. "Well..." Well, it would make things a little more lively, a little more easier, but there was also that fact that... it felt almost like he was recruiting help. Giving up, and asking someone else to take over half of his responsibilty, which flatly, he didn't need, but on the other hand, it was nice having someone around who didn't think you were a ~~complete~~ failure. "... I don't know how it'd all work out, but..."

Mahaado glanced up at Diabound, trying to keep his expression from appearing too hopeful. "But...?" he prompted gently, loosing his fingers from each other to stroke Diabound's back again.

"I don't see any real downside to it?" Diabound offered, sighing as he spoke. "Other than the ridicule I'll receive, but I suppose all of that's worth the extra hour or sleep I may gain if you move in."

Mahaado couldn't help but stare for a moment - the fact that Diabound, Diabound of all people, was willing to put his pride on the line for him... He quickly hid his face in Diabound's shoulder, shivering lightly. He wasn't sure why tears were welling in his eyes, but it was the last thing he wanted Diabound to see, at the moment. "Thank you," he whispered, grip tightening slightly.

Diabound, however, felt the tears and gave a light groan. Tensing at the grip, he sighed, reluctantly muttering, "Sure thing." His eyes opened and he glanced up at the ceiling. "Who knows, might be nice to actually own a place instead of renewing hotel reservations every week."

Mahaado quickly reached up to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand, a silly smile crossing his lips. "Yeah," he whispered, settling against Diabound again. "Might be nice." Despite the tears, Mahaado felt almost giddy, because it was times like this when he could allow himself to believe, just for a moment, that perhaps Diabound didn't just put up with his company when there was sex involved, after all.

"You've really got to quit that though," Diabound sighed. "I'm taking this break to get away from all the crying, remember?" His tone was light and teasing, fingers ruffling Mahaado's hair.

Mahaado laughed, wiping at one eye again. "I know, I know," he said, smiling broadly despite it. "I just didn't think you'd go for it, after all that..."

"After what?" Diabound watched Mahaado curiously. "Eh, it might be..." He paused for a moment, finally just giving in. "Nice to have you around, providing you leave the tears to Yusra."

Mahaado smiled a bit wider, shifting up to meet Diabound's eyes. "Careful, you might make me start up again," he murmured, touching Diabound's cheek lightly. He brushed their lips together as his other hand slid through Diabound's hair, before he continued, "It'll be nice having you around, too."

Diabound made a sound rather similar to a purr. "You bet it will," he teased. "Don't know how you lived without me..."

Mahaado chuckled softly, resting his forehead against Diabound's. "Not very well, I'd say," he murmured, sliding a hand down to find Diabound's and hold it gently.

Squeezing the hand, Diabound kissed Mahaado, almost passionate. He felt a bit awkward; this was so romantic it was sick ~~and yet, with Mahaado it wasn't so bad. With Mahaado, he enjoyed it, wanted it~~. Ugh, maybe he needed that drink after all.

Mahaado shivered, returning the kiss with equal emotion as his free hand threaded through Diabound's hair again. Again and again, Diabound had taken him off-guard that night, causing flutters of hope that maybe Diabound really did feel something for him, and it was all Mahaado could do to repress those hopes again. Still, he couldn't help but feel just a bit happier as he kissed Diabound.

Diabound let the kiss linger a good while before pulling back, breathing heavily. "Mm, are you busy tomorrow? My last Yusra-free day, we might as well look for a place..."

"Mm, I don't have anything planned," Mahaado murmured breathlessly, squeezing Diabound's hand. "Should probably head home at some point, then. This is place is pretty small, even for one person." He stifled a yawn, nestling close to Diabound again.

Diabound shrugged, "We'll figure it out tomorrow." Mahaado's yawn caught on and he yawned as well. "Night."

Mahaado chuckled faintly, nuzzling him. "And we're still on the wrong side of the bed," he murmured, before closing his eyes. "'Night."

True, but Diabound didn't care, eyes closing and breathing slowing a bit as he drifted to sleep, a half-smile on his lips and hand tightly grasping Mahaado's.

Mon, 10 Jul 2006 06:53:09 GMT

Characters: Ryou [__sarak], Malik [scarred_bronze]

Rating: R for pseudo!sex.

Summary: Takes place back when Malik got his scooter, so around three weeks ago. So anyway - they have a pseudo-serious discussion, Malik introduced Ryou to The Scooter, they do the dinner thing, they come back, and ah... relieve a little tension, so to speak.

All in all, it had been a rather good day. He'd had to format three peoples' hard drives, and rid two of them of viruses, but for the most part, Malik's clients had been intelligent enough in the technical aspect. Not like the guy he'd served last week, who didn't know that screen resolution and operating systems were two different things...

He was also now the proud owner of a shiny silver scooter, and that made him pretty damn happy as well.

So Malik had a huge grin on his face as he pulled up into the apartment complex, and it was still there as he walked up the three flights of stairs to his own apartment. After a long day of work, it was now officially Boyfriend Time. "Ryouuu~" he trilled as he stepped in the door, tossing the keys to his scooter up in the air. "I have returned to you~!"

Ryou, like every other warm Summer day so far, had been busy doing absolutely nothing save lazing around Malik's house, attempting to clean any and everything he possibly could. After a while though, there wasn't much else to clean since he did everything and made sure the apartment was spotless since he had nothing else to do. He truly hated to waste away days watching TV but without Malik around and nothing to clean or keep himself busy with there just didn't seem to be much else to do. Besides, if Malik wasn't there, anymore he almost wasn't comfortable doing anything without him or it never seemed as fun because his mind was always -on- him. It was almost enough to drive a person mad really, how one couldn't do anything and was solely reliable on that one person.

Sighing, Ryou let himself sprawl out upon the sofa, face digging into the couch cushion, legs splayed out every which way. What time was it anyways? Time for Malik to come home yet? Jesus, he really needed to find some new activities because it was starting to get (no, it was) pathetic how much he relied on the male for everything, always pining for his attention and love. As the door opened, Ryou's eyes widened and he immediately jumped up, smiling. Dashing to the door within seconds, he was pouncing at Malik, jumping with open arms to him, ecstatic his boyfriend was back. "Malik!"

Malik had to step backwards a little bit so he wouldn't fall over, but he failed miserably and went crashing down to the floor, Ryou landing right on top of him. However, the grin was still on his face as he looked up at his boyfriend, and he wrapped his arms around the other, squeezing him tightly. "Hey there, love," he purred, sitting up a bit. Okay, ow. His rear end was sore from landing on it, and he was pretty sure his back would be hurting before long, but not even that was going to spoil his good mood.

"Miss me?" he asked, picking himself - and Ryou - up off of the floor. As if it weren't obvious enough by the way the boy had bowled him over and was now clinging to him like a life preserver.

As Ryou and Malik fell over, Ryou let out a little yelp, clinging to Malik even tighter as they fell to the ground. Once again, he had forgotten how much Malik could really take and over did it slightly. He hadn't meant to literally throw himself at the other but it had happened either way, and now they were both going to pay for it. His knee was stinging pretty badly and now he felt extremely guilty for what he had just done because Malik had to be in serious pain, falling onto the floor. "Ack, I'm so sorry!" he cried, immediately hugging the other a little gentler, nuzzling into his neck as he sat up. All he had wanted to do was greet the other warmly; he hadn't really meant to actually hurt him in the process. Sometimes he was so clumsy and inconsiderate, he wanted to just smack himself.

Lifting his head and peering to Malik, he gave a bright, yet worried smile, nodding as he leant in to kiss his chin, getting to his feet. Clinging to the other a bit more carefully this time, he nuzzled into his shoulder, fingers gliding along his back. "Yes, missed you a lot. I really didn't mean to take you by surprise like that though. I forget how heavy I am sometimes, sorry. I hope I didn't hurt you too bad..."

"No, it's okay... I'm fine. Actually, I almost saw it coming," Malik said, flashing a reassuring smile at him. He could feel pain seeping up into his back, but he barely even noticed it as he looked down at his boyfriend. He figured it would feel better after a hot shower later, but for now, it was clear that Ryou had missed him, so now it was time to make up for his absence.

He reached up to smooth down a bit of Ryou's hair, as it had gotten a little mussed when he tackled him. "So, what'd you do while I was gone for all of a few hours?" Malik asked, tugging him over toward the couch.

Ryou smiled at his boyfriend's comment, shaking his head. "No you didn't. You can't see something coming when I've never really pounced you before, dummy!" Eyes closing satisfyingly at having his head petted, he leant into the touch, following Malik happily over to the couch, plopping down onto it, Malik beside him.

"Oh, nothing really," Pausing, he leant over to rest his head on his boyfriend's shoulder, arms coming about the other. "Slept, cleaned, missed you, slept some more, missed you... Been pretty boring and similar to every other summer day so far."

"Ah, yes..." Malik purred as Ryou leaned against him, and one of his arms wrapped around the smaller boy as he snuggled down into the couch. "It's just so boring without me, isn't it?" His fingers idly toyed with a few strands of white hair; he leaned down, kissing the top of Ryou's head. "Well, you'll be happy to know that I'm all yours for the rest of the day."

Malik grinned, ruffling his boyfriend's hair. "My day was pretty good. I actually worked with people who knew at least a little about what they were doing. And I have my scooter. And then there's you. And yay."

Nuzzling up against Malik's side, a hazy little smile crossed his face, finally able to relax now that the person he'd been missing so horribly was back. As a kiss was pressed to his forehead, he let out a soft murmur, hand stroking down Malik's side affectionately. "Ahn...are you now? And yes, it is boring without you since there's really no one else to find. It seems these days, everyone is so busy with their own lives, doesn't it? It's been weeks and I still haven't been able to catch up with my Brothers..." Frowning slightly, his eyes closed, further melting into his boyfriend's touch.

"Scoot...er?" Tensing at the news, he wasn't sure he was really happy for him, to be honest. After all, Malik having that scooter meant he'd have to go on it when he would've rather just walked than had anything to do with that piece of machine. "Well, I'm glad you had a good day at least. Makes for one of us."

He felt Ryou tense up and he frowned, looking down at him. Malik knew he was scared of the thought of riding the scooter, and there wasn't really anything he could do about it - except take him on it and prove that it was safe. Though maybe that would work better for a day when Malik didn't have to work... clearly, Ryou had missed him too much today, and to try and get him on the scooter would likely just upset him.

"Yeah... but that's just further proof that people are growing up, I guess," Malik said, sighing. He started to gently rub Ryou's shoulders, trying to make the boy comfortable. "I remember back in high school, I'd see my friends almost every day during the summer. But then we all went off to different universities, so we don't see each other anymore. It sucks, but it's a part of life." He gazed down at his boyfriend, fingers lightly kneading his shoulders and neck.

Peering up to Malik questionably, he pondered what Malik had said. Separating was a part of growing up? Suddenly, his stomach churned. He wasn't sure he was ready to grow up if it meant separating himself even further from the people he knew, letting them go on with their lives. Sure, he had his own life as well but...to him, all he had ever wanted was to be together with everyone and since college had started, there hadn't really been any time to see his friends or, rather, they didn't have much time to see him, one of the two. Sighing, he tried to will away the thought and just rest against the male, happy mood from a few moments ago beginning to diminish. Yet now he couldn't even remember how it had all started. All he knew was he was good at bringing people down.

"A part of life... to stop talking to people you once thought were your best friends?" Frowning, Ryou nudged up against his boyfriend, soft eyes opening to peer up to him once again in distraught. "I don't think...I want that kind of life, one where I can't be close to anyone just because we're all...getting older. It just doesn't seem right, does it..?"

"Well, I'm not saying you can't still be close to anyone," Malik said, lightly touching Ryou's cheek, "I mean... everyone's lives are different when it comes to that aspect. See, you lucked out by having all of your friends go to the same university as you. But I'm just saying... I still love my brother and my sister, but we've all branched out onto our own paths. When I'm not at school, I don't see much of Marik or Isis, and I'm okay with that. It just means I'm ready to face the real world by myself."

He paused, resting his chin atop Ryou's head. "I dunno where I'm going with this. Feel free to ignore me if I'm not making any sense."

Shaking his head, Ryou gazed over to the blank TV screen, staring at the reflection of the two of them. Unlike Malik, he knew he wasn't that certain about the future or where he'd be going and definitely wasn't okay with how distant everyone seemed to be anymore. After all, even if Malik was perfect for him in every single way, there were still things Malik couldn't do for him that friends could. Maybe he was fortunate to at least have one but sometimes he just wished he could have the best of both worlds and not constantly feel as if Malik was his only hope for everything. He hated how dependant he was becoming, especially. Was it always going to be like this? Was he always going to need the other that badly? And if school started up again or if it didn't...

Was it really logical to think they'd both be able to end up at the same school? Biting onto his lower lip, Ryou stayed silent, deciding not to talk about it any longer. He didn't want Malik to think he was whining and definitely didn't want to bring his boyfriend down with his own depressing thoughts. "No...I understand, I do.."

"Ryou..." Malik placed a hand under his chin, gently lifting it up so that their eyes met. "I'm not trying to discourage you or make you feel bad or anything... I just don't wanna lie to you or sugar-coat anything. I feel that it's better to be prepared for the future now, instead of stressing out when it actually gets here, y'know?"

He leaned forward slightly, pressing a soft kiss to Ryou's lips. "I know it's hard to think about, and I'm sorry if it's upsetting you to do so. You... kinda sound like you had a bad day, so I won't make you think about it if you don't want to, okay?" Malik smiled a little, thumb lightly stroking the other's chin. "I'd be more than happy to focus on the present if that's what you wanna do."

Nodding softly, Ryou's eyes lifted to meet the male's own. He knew the male wasn't trying to hurt him per se but...sometimes a bit softer way of telling him that might have been nice or maybe he really had said it perfectly and Ryou just needed some time to think about it. Either way, Ryou wasn't exceptionally sure. "I understand..."

Closing his eyes, he kissed the male back, dawning a small smile. "No, I...my day wasn't bad, just the same as it always is, I mean. I'm just thinking weird right now I guess. That's all." Gazing downward to the fingers upon his chin, Ryou gave a small "yes" and pulled away slightly, moving to stand up. "So, your...thing. Did you want to show me it?"

Malik blinked, thinking about that for a few seconds before a look of enlightenment dawned on his face. "Oh. The scooter. ... Um." He fidgeted a little before standing up, taking Ryou's hands in his.

"Yeah, I wanna show you, but I won't make you get on it or anything 'cause I know you're scared," he said, giving his boyfriend's hands a gentle squeeze. "I promise it's safe, but... I'll let you tell me when you're ready to find that out for yourself, okay?"

Letting Malik take his hand, he led his way to the front door, slipping his feet into his sneakers. When he was finished, he opened up the front door, stepping outside of the quaint apartment.

"I'll be fine, really..." Smiling halfheartedly at the squeeze, he let Malik lead them outside the rest of the way since he had no idea where the thing was parked. "We can just go on, I really don't care anymore." Or maybe he did but since he was feeling a bit down and in an awkward state, he didn't really care about how much going on it would scare him currently.

He started heading toward the end of the hall, but before he could get very far, he stopped and looked back at Ryou. Malik's eyes trailed from his face down to their joined hands, and he stepped back toward Ryou, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Sorry if I upset you or anything, I really am," he said, burying his face in Ryou's hair. "It's just... sometimes I can be a little blunt, and I don't always think about who I'm talking to when I say things." Malik kissed the side of his head before pulling back, looking Ryou in the eyes. Maybe he was just being paranoid, but either way, he didn't like seeing his boyfriend even the slightest bit upset. "I'll make it up to you somehow, if you want?"

Following his boyfriend down the hall, his eyes watched the ground as they went out. He kept to his own thoughts along the way, just trying to keep his mouth shut from upsetting Malik. After all, if he had upset Malik or would in the future, then it really would've been a bad day and he would've really felt angry with himself. Yet, just as they were going, Ryou found himself almost hitting Malik with his head, having not been watching where he was going or when Malik stopped exactly.

"W-What..?" Hugging the other back confusedly, he peered up to the male, only to have a face nuzzling into his white strands. "No Malik, really! I'm fine, honestly and what you said is true so...It's not you who should be apologizing..." Tilting his head downward, he hugged the other a little closer, eyes shutting. "...It's me...I mean, I'm the one acting like this, not you. It's not your fault it's hard for me to accept how things are..." Forced to look up into Malik's eyes, Ryou gave a smile. "There's no need to make it up to me, really. It's fine..."

"... Are you sure?" Malik asked, stroking Ryou's cheek with his knuckles. "'Cause I don't like seeing you upset at all, Ryou. Kinda makes me feel like I'm not doing my job..." He smirked a little bit, resting his hand on the side of the other's face.

He paused, biting his lip for a moment before releasing Ryou, taking his hand again. "There any way I can cheer you up somehow? Take you out somewhere, or something like that? ... At least let me do that much."

Nodding softly, Ryou gave a small smile and leant into Malik's warm touch. Bright eyes meeting Malik's own, his smile widened and his arm curled around the male's neck. "Yes, I'm sure. And you're doing a fine job, it isn't your fault things in my life are like I want them. I mean...that's my own personal fault, not yours; not any where near yours." Turning his head to the side, he gave Malik's hand a few fluttery kisses.

"Are you sure though?" Looking uncertain, Ryou scanned the male's face. There wasn't really anywhere in particular he really wanted to go but if Malik was offering, he figured he should be polite and think of somewhere. At least if they went somewhere it would keep his problems from his mind for a bit. "I...don't really know where we could go though. Maybe...out to get something to eat, like at a restaurant or something? Or...err...just to some store to look at stuff to pass some time? I really don't care." Letting his arm fall, he squeezed Malik's hand and leant up to kiss his temple. "Wherever you want to take me."

Malik smiled and nodded as he started to walk toward the stairs again. "Food actually sounds like a good idea, I haven't really eaten since breakfast... well. If you're hungry, that is." He shrugged and started walking down the stairs, still clutching Ryou's hand in his. If he could at least make Ryou smile again, then he'd take what he could get.

When they got down to the parking lot, Malik led him down the sidewalk a short way, to where a silver-and-black scooter was parked. "Well, there it is," he said, draping his arm over Ryou's shoulder with a grin. "Pretty nice, huh~?"

Following Malik, he watched the male, feeling a bit happier than before. Even if he was feeling down, Malik made him feel a little bit better with the words the male told him. Squeezing Malik's hand, he gave a happy nod, eyes closing in mirth as he made his way down the stairs. "Yes, very hungry now that you're back. I was going to go out and pick up something for us for dinner but...uhm...I didn't want to get you the wrong thing and I figured it'd be more fun to go if it was the both of us."

Feet padding along, following Malik as close as he could just to be able to stick by the male's side. His eyes began to search around for this mysterious bike, yet coming up empty handed when he couldn't find it. He was about to ask where it was when he found himself standing in front of it. The sight of it, well...it kind of unnerved him, knowing he was going to be forced on that monster with absolutely NO protection whatsoever. However, he wanted to seem happy for his boyfriend so he smiled anyways, peering up to the male. "Yeah...I guess it is!"

Reluctantly letting go of his boyfriend, Malik walked closer to the scooter, unlocking a hinge just under the front seat. He lifted it up and reached inside, pulling out a white helmet. "Here," he said, handing it to Ryou, "you'll need this." He felt a little bad about having him get on the thing when he'd said he wouldn't make him do so, but... he didn't seem like he'd have much of a problem with it now.

Malik reached under the seat again and pulled out another helmet - a black one - and he set it on his own head before pushing the seat back down and locking it up. "See, it's got a bunch of neat storage compartments and stuff. So it's pretty useful, too. And this way we don't have to spend money on a taxi." After securing his helmet on, he climbed onto the scooter, patting the seat behind him. "Hop on, love."

As he was handed a helmet, Ryou gave a slightly shaky smile to his boyfriend, setting it upon his head and fastening it. "Thanks..." he trailed a bit unsurely, not quite sure whether he was more happy about it or afraid because the time to get on the bike was looming closer.

"Uhh...yeah, yeah I see." Once again, he wasn't too impressed by the extra compartments. After all, why waste the extra money to put those on when they could've added, oh, side protection or something? Shaking his head, he bit his lip and hesitantly climbed on behind Malik, arms immediately wrapping around his waist, still unsure if he wanted to do this or not. Immediately, he dug his face in Malik's back as if the world were to end when the bike started up. "R-Ready..."

Malik gave Ryou a few seconds to get himself situated on the scooter before starting it up. He started pulling out of the parking lot - slowly, to sort of ease Ryou into it. Well, that and the speed limit was pretty low in the apartment complex, but that was a minor detail.

It was a little hard to breathe, given how tightly Ryou was clinging to him, but he kept on driving, eventually speeding up when he got out of the apartments. Driving was a little bit different now that he had someone else riding with him; he was being a lot more cautious than he normally would, though he was still pretty careful even when riding by himself. But Malik was determined to prove that there was nothing to be afraid of... even if they did crash, they'd be saved by the helmets, after all.

As Malik began to pull out, Ryou clung tighter, almost impossibly tight because he thought it was going to be that terrible that he needed to. Yet, as they moved, Ryou realized something; it wasn't absolutely terrifying, at least not yet. Lifting his head up a little, just so his eyes could peer over Malik's shoulder, chocolate hues widened. It was almost...kinda cool? Of course, they were still going impeccably slow and he realized this but if going faster was just like going slow like this, maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

As they moved onto the actual road, an eep escaped Ryou's mouth. His heart was beating a tad fast within his chest, a little bit unused to this feeling of being so vulnerable to the outside world. Hiding in Malik's shirt again, his eyes closed and he let go just a little bit, enough for Malik to be able to breathe a little better. He decided it wasn't too scary and was definitely something he could get used to with time, and...it almost felt nice. However for now, he was perfectly content clinging to Malik, only seeing a little by peering over his shoulder.

As he reached a stop light, Malik glanced over his shoulder at the other. Ryou was peeking up over his shoulder, and through the visor of the helmet - and the fact that his grip had loosened - he didn't seem to be as scared as he thought he'd be. He smiled a little bit, focusing on the road again.

After a short time, Malik came to stop in the parking lot of a small restaurant. He turned off the ignition, then pulled off his helmet and looked back at Ryou. "That wasn't so bad, now was it?" he asked, a satisfied grin on his face.

As Malik peered back to him, his eyes met the male's and suddenly, he felt that warm feeling well inside of him. Maybe it wasn't such a bad thing to have gotten onto the bike, even if it was still a bit scary. Staying quiet though, he watched the world fly by, feeling a little bit better about himself, over all for even trying this. Sure Malik was probably going to tell his Brothers and he'd be taunted for years to come but...

At least he had tried it and it wasn't -that- bad. As they pulled up to a restaurant, Ryou finally calmed down completely and actually let go of Malik, only holding onto him so lightly it was almost unable to be felt. Parking, Ryou unhooked himself and undid his helmet, meeting warm eyes which he quickly smiled into. "Not too bad I guess. It was almost nice, in fact!"

"I'm proud. You didn't squeeze any of my internal organs out of position," Malik said, leaning in to give him a quick kiss. After getting off of the scooter, Malik took the helmets and stashed them back in the compartment under the seat, then took Ryou's hand as he started walking toward the restaurant. "It didn't scare you so much that you lost your appetite, did it?"

The restaurant itself was just a small noodle shop, offering various dishes like udon and ramen. "'Cause the stuff they have here puts instant ramen to shame."

Kissing him back, Ryou purred softly, hugging the male close for a moment in affection. "Of course I didn't. It wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be and there was no need to have you lose any guts, at least not tonight." Smiling brightly, he took his boyfriend's hand and walked along to the restaurant with him, leaning over to kiss his chin. "Of course not!"

At Malik's comment, he let out a soft laugh, opening the door for them as they made their way in. "Oh really? I wouldn't know, I've never eaten many places downtown. Mostly, I've only been to the same four or five places most of my life so...until now, I really haven't tried many new places. I like it though, much better. Everything about being with you is much better!" Giving a smile, he peered up to the menu, deciding upon what to order.

Malik grinned, giving the other's hand a light squeeze. "I gotta take you more places," he said, "you've been so sheltered. But anyway... when you live on your own, you tend to look for the cheap-but-good places, y'know? I like this one a lot." Looking around the small building, he could see a chef preparing noodles nearby. "You get a show to go with your meal."

After a few moments, he placed his order - a kind of vegetable ramen - then stood back and waited for Ryou to order his own.

Beaming at the squeeze, he realized just how good of a mood he was in suddenly when just a little while ago he had been feeling down. He swore Malik was secretly a magical remedy or at least for him. No matter what he did, he always seemed to make him feel better. Maybe it was because he stuck around, even when Ryou was having a tough time? No matter what, he was always there. "Yeah! I guess I can see where that would come in handy. For my house, it was always just my dad giving us money for groceries and really...Bakura and Diabound had more of a say in what we got and didn't. I can remember a lot of fast food nights, in any case." Even if he had been a bit sheltered, he was still happy because Malik actually wanted to take him to different places and show him a different part of life that he'd never known.

Placing his order as well, he ordered a vegetable flavored ramen as well, deciding that if Malik liked it, and he usually liked what Malik liked, it'd probably be good. After ordering, he took Malik's hand in his own and leant in for a small kiss to the male's mouth corner. "Mm...so, where should we sit to wait?"

Another glance around the room showed that there were only a few open places; Malik spied an open booth nearby. "Over there," he said, pointing. "They'll bring it to us when it's done.

He gave a tug on Ryou's hand, pulling the younger boy over to said booth. "Heh, I know how that feels. Marik or Isis usually got to decide what we ate whenever we all went out together. Not like it really matters that much because we've all got pretty much the same taste in foods, but. Being the youngest shouldn't automatically mean 'pushover'." Malik shrugged and sat down in the booth, pulling Ryou down beside him.

Malik smirked. "At least now I can actually cook, so I don't have to live off of takeout and microwavable stuff."

Nodding, Ryou followed his boyfriend's tug and followed him along, sitting down in the booth next to his boyfriend, preferring it over having to sit across because then it was still easier to get the kisses he liked so much. Laughing at Malik's reply, he gave a soft shrug, giving his boyfriend's hand a light squeeze. "Well, I didn't really mind too much because I'm not too picky and will find something wherever I am but...sometimes it would've been nice if they would've let me handle things so we wouldn't be at a higher risk for cancer now." Unlatching their hands, he set his atop the table, fingers drumming, eyes scanning the small, cozy little place they were at.

"Ehh?" Turning to the other male, he gave a half smile, leaning in to take a little kiss. "Mm, yes you can and it wouldn't matter if you couldn't because I'd cook for you!" Nudging his nose against the male's cheek, he leant against the other for a moment in mirth, eyes closing. "So either way, we still win."

As Ryou leaned against him, Malik draped his arm over his boyfriend's back, gently scratching up and down. "Yes, we still win, even with my picky eating habits," he said, smirk widening. "I've somehow managed to survive without meat for the last twenty years, though I think I'd die if I had to get rid of bread or pasta like those dumb low-carb diets tell you to do." He shook his head in exasperation.

At the scratches, Ryou immediately molded into putty, melting into his boyfriend's arms, eyes closing, letting out a content sigh. "Mm, you shouldn't do that because it makes me want to fall asleep or drool or something..." Smiling, Ryou lifted his head to meet the other's eyes. "Yeah, I think that would be a very depressing diet to do."

"I'm surprised, though. Your brothers' fast food fixation doesn't seem to have effected you all that much." Malik winked playfully at him, looking up as their bowls of ramen were brought to them. He detached his arm from around Ryou and moved to pick up his chopsticks. "At least in the waistline area."

Blinking, Ryou gave a curious gaze, wondering what Malik had meant by that. As their bowls were set down, Ryou moved to pick up his chop sticks, a bit sad that he had to move out of that back scratching though. Laughing once it finally dawned on him, mostly because Malik had told him, he gave a light shrug. "Well, I guess I'm just one of the lucky ones along with my brothers. Even know Diabound drinks so much, the beer belly still hasn't caught up with him." Grinning, he pinched some noodles and leant in to slurp them up, eyes shining with happiness at how delicious it was. "Ahh, these are so good!"

The thought of Diabound with a beer belly caused Malik to start laughing in the middle of a bite. Thankfully, it was just a bit of cabbage from the soup, so there was no danger of flying noodles. "Oh man... I just had the funniest mental image of Diabound sitting in front of the TV with a huge beer gut," he said, once he'd managed to stop laughing.

"Maybe you guys just have good metabolism or something." He cast a sidelong glance at Ryou as he slurped up a mouthful of noodles. "Lucky gits. If I eat a box of Pocky or something, it goes straight to my ass and I have to work like crazy to get it off."

Laughing as well because Malik laughing made him want to join in, Ryou watched him in mirth. "Don't choke now, don't let my Brother win!" At Malik's comment, Ryou also began to laugh, imagining him passed out in front of the TV with a five-year-old daughter drawing on his face. "Mm, he would look attractive like that, wouldn't he?"

Shaking his head, Ryou gave a roll of his eyes. "It does not you liar. You're too thin for anything to do that! And I won't be lucky for too long I'm sure; eventually it has to catch up with me, right?" Half-smiling, he turned back to his ramen, taking another bite, inwardly raving about how good it was.

"Probably not for another few years," Malik said, fishing around in his bowl. "And as long as you stick by me enough, all of the health food will nix the junk food and take-out altogether. So you win and get to keep your sexy figure." He nudged Ryou with his elbow, grinning.

He hadn't really realized how hungry he was until he actually had food in front of him, so in the few minutes after getting their food, he'd already downed half the bowl. "... Man, I was hungry. I should probably start eating between clients or something."

Taking another bite of his ramen, he chewed it up and peered to the other, nodding. "Heh, let's hope, right? I don't want to get huge and have you leave me for someone, right?" he asked jokingly, giving him a wink. At being called sexy, Ryou shook his head and turned away, going back to his ramen.

Eating for a few minutes, he had almost finished all of his ramen before deciding he was full. "Mm, you probably should. Maybe then you could handle them a bit better, ne?" Pushing his bowl away a bit, he rested his head in his palm watching the other calmly.

Malik pouted a little, nudging Ryou again. "Aww, I wouldn't leave you just because you put on a few pounds. That'd just make you squishier and more huggable," he muttered around a mouthful of vegetables.

He finished off his bowl, then sat back in the booth, draping an arm around the other again. "So. That was a nice dinner, huh? Was it worth the terror of enduring the scooter ride?" he asked, fondly scratching Ryou's back again. Malik stifled a short belch with his free hand, then flashed a grin at his boyfriend.

Laughing, he nudged his boyfriend back playfully and leant in to nip at his nose. Rolling his eyes, he shook he head and moved back, leaning against the bench seat.

Leaning into the male's arm, he peered up to the other smiling, now happy and full, and ready for another back scratching. "Yeah, I guess it was kinda worth it now that you mention it. I really liked this place a lot. Some of the best ramen I've ever had probably!" At the scratching, his eyes closed and he immediately leant into the male's touch, head upon his shoulder. He rested quietly for a second until he heard a burp, smiling slightly. "Mm...such a lovely sound, tch."

Chuckling a bit, Malik leaned down to kiss the top of Ryou's head. "I know, every sound I make is just beautiful, isn't it?" he asked, lightly squeezing him around the shoulders. He looked down at the check they'd been given for the meal, then back at his boyfriend. "We should probably get going, in any case. I probably shouldn't be flirting with you like this in public."

He smirked, then leaned down to whisper seductively into the other's ear; "I can make some sexier sounds for you when we get home, if you want~."

Murring at the kiss, Ryou's eye peeked open to peer up at the other, cheek nudging against his cheek. "I wouldn't go that far..." Smirking slightly, he grinned at getting a hug, giving the other male one back, leaning against him and holding onto him for a moment in bliss. "Mm...if you say so."

Blinking at the words whispered in his ear, a blush lightly dusted over Ryou's cheeks. "U-Uhm...I..." Going into a coughing fit, he turned his head and coughed into his hand, moving to stand. "Err...here, I'll get my wallet out and go pay..!" Flustered, he moved to run out to the counter, not sure what to say to Malik's question.

Malik grinned and shook his head in exasperation as he stood up, walking over to where Ryou was. "I can get my own," he said, taking his own wallet out. He'd been completely joking with Ryou when he said that, but he wouldn't exactly complain if he actually had to go through with it...

After paying for their dinner, they headed back outside; it was getting dark out, so all of the buildings in downtown Domino were starting to light up. It'd make a nice sight for the ride back, so Malik hoped that his boyfriend wouldn't be as nervous on the way home.

Not even realizing how much of a rush he'd been in, he'd started to flush a bit more, nodding only. What Malik had mentioned...it wasn't exactly that Ryou didn't want that but talking about it out in public had kind-of surprised the boy.

Following Malik back outside, he stayed close and attempted to grab shyly for Malik's hand, not really liking walking much if he couldn't be touching some part of the male. "Uhm..." Pausing for a moment, he began to feel a little guilty for the way he had acted and attempted to lean up to kiss the male's ear, nudging against it. "Maybe when we get home...you could show me what kind of noises those would be...?"

Malik detached his hand from Ryou's; instead, he wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders and tugged him close as they walked back to his scooter. "If you'd like," he purred, idly stroking his boyfriend's arm. "I'd be happy to do so."

Before long, they were on the scooter again, cruising through the city. It was warm out tonight, so the breeze from riding on the scooter was rather cooling - Ryou's arms around Malik's waist was comforting as well, especially after how flustered the younger boy had gotten earlier. Malik was glad that he'd loosened up, and that he'd helped him feel better, so all in all, he was in a pretty good mood as he drove back to his apartment.

Smiling as an arm was curled around him, Ryou leant into the arm and wrapped his own around Malik, peering up to him in mirth. "Mm...I think I'd like that. It might make me feel even better..."

As they made their way home, Ryou still had his face buried a bit into Malik's shoulder, clinging a little tighter than he probably needed to as well. Of course, it was still an improvement from before but it was obvious Ryou still wasn't all the way used to it quite yet. "So Malik..." Grinning slightly, he moved to kiss at the back of Malik's neck, eyes closing. "How long do you think it'll be before you get tired of me?" he asked playfully, eyes opening to peer out onto the road in front of them. He wasn't really sure he could ever get sick of his boyfriend and since he was finally confident in how Malik felt, he was sure it was the same for the other male as well. "After all, soon, my strange ways of torture might drive you crazy!"

"Mm..." Malik's body relaxed at the kiss to his neck - hopefully Ryou wouldn't go much further than that while he was driving, lest he have to make a... pit stop of sorts. "I'll get tired of you when Hell freezes over," he replied, snuggling back into him slightly. "I'll just counter with my own methods of torture, you realize. Because the Gods know I have my own ways as well~."

Nuzzling his nose against the back of the male's neck, Ryou gave a few of his hair strands a little tug with his mouth, laughing softly. "Should bite you for that one. Your ways can't possibly dominate over mine after all, can they?" Smiling, he lifted his head to rest it atop Malik's shoulder, actually daring to get a full view of the road for once, fear further diminishing.

Riding on the scooter was actually starting to feel nicer than dangerous. He still wasn't sure if he could take the freeway being on one though. That just might've had to have been instant death, or at least in Ryou's mind.

A warm feeling welled up inside of Malik as he felt the other lean in closer to him. He tilted his head to the side slightly so Ryou could have more room on his shoulder. "Maybe not all of the time, but I'll definitely try," he said, a content smile forming on his face.

Snuggling up when more room was offered, he tilted his head just right to be able to kiss at the male's neck again softly, eyes closing for a bit, smiling at the male's words. "That's okay, I don't mind losing a lot of the time. It's always worth it to end up in these kinda positions, don't you think?"

A short time later, they arrived at their destination. Malik pushed the door to his apartment open, flicking on the lights; he kicked his shoes off before stretching his back out, turning to look at Ryou. "Feeling better than you did earlier?"

After staying quiet the rest of the way, busy resting and just enjoying their time together, Ryou followed Malik inside the apartment, gently stepping out of his shoes and setting them aside neatly. Watching the other stretch for a moment, he was slightly dazed when a question was asked. Shaking his head, he gave a soft nod, going forth to wrap his arms around Malik's neck. "Yes! You always manage to make me feel better somehow..." Grinning, he leant up to kiss the male's nose tip warmly.

Malik's arms curled around his boyfriend's waist, one arm gently rubbing Ryou's back. "Mm... I'm glad," he said, nuzzling into the other's neck. He pressed an affectionate kiss into Ryou's throat before pulling away, looking him in the eyes. "Don't like it when my Ryou's feeling bad. Makes me kinda feel like I've failed, somehow."

He stood there, just holding Ryou, fingernails starting to lightly rake down the smaller boy's back. "So... now that I've proven to you that you won't die if you get on the scooter, and we've got full bellies... what do you wanna do?"

Arching against the hand, Ryou let out a soft murmur, inching in a little closer just to feel his body pressed up against Malik's, heat radiating from the male. Eyes closing as his neck was nuzzled, an airy "ahn..." left him, head tilting back slightly to offer up Malik more room to assault. At the kiss, he gave a small, hazy smile, head lifting to meet Malik's, a slight glaze to warm eyes. These were the kind of moments he had no doubt in his mind he was at the right place. Only someone this terrific could make him feel like this with only a few simple touches.

Back writhing further, his fingers curled in soft blonde locks, biting his lip for a moment as he watched the other. "Mmm..." Pausing for a moment, he began to press soft, sloppy kisses on Malik's chin shrugging. "Whatever it is you want to do... You promised noises, didn't you?"

Malik let out a quiet groan as he felt Ryou's fingers in his hair, and his hand slid up the back of his boyfriend's shirt. "Mm, yes, noises..." His fingers trailed along the soft skin for a moment before letting go of the other, joining their hands together.

He slowly pulled Ryou back toward the couch, laying down on his back once he got there. Malik tugged the other down on top of him, wrapping his arms around Ryou's back. "You're the only person who can make me make those kinds of noises, you know," he purred, leaning up to nip at the boy's ear.

At the groan, Ryou gave a slight shiver still surprised Malik would even do that for any touch from him. As his hand slid down the back of Ryou's shirt, the boy murmured gently, silently begging for more, anything he could get even as long as it felt as good as that had. As their hands were joined, he followed Malik carefully to the couch, watching with a slight blush as Malik laid back and he was tugged atop, immediately melting, falling down atop the other male obediently.

"A-Am I...?" he asked a bit unsurely, gasping and forgetting all about any hesitance however as a mouth attached itself to Ryou's ear. Giving a light moan, leg rubbing up against Malik's crotch, he started to feel a bit jittery and under pressure, thanks to only a couple of little things.

Another groan left Malik's throat as he felt Ryou nudge up against him, his body shuddering slightly beneath the other. "Nnh... yes," he breathed, nuzzling Ryou's cheek with his nose. His arms reached back to pull the smaller boy closer, pressing their bodies together.

"I wouldn't be willing to let anyone else do it," Malik whispered, rubbing his hips against his boyfriend's as well as he could. "J... just you."

At the nuzzling, a shudder left Ryou, head moving to instead kiss along Malik's jaw line, making his way to the male's lips. As their bodies were clashed together, Ryou's head lifted and he gave a deep moan, claiming Malik's mouth with his own. Gasping as he tried to kiss the boy as deeply as he could, he was shaken by the male's words, hands clasping at Malik's shoulders, nails beginning to dig themselves in.

"A-Ahn...P-please never let that change, whatever you do... I never, ever want to lose you." Grinding down against Malik with another deep whimper, he pressed his mouth against the male's own again, tears beginning to pine at his eyes.

He held Ryou tightly, returning the kiss with equal passion; his own fingers clutched at the other's shirt, trying not to dig in too much. After breaking the kiss off, Malik stared up into Ryou's eyes, gently reaching up to wipe at the corners of his eyes. "You won't," he said quietly, gazing up at him, "because I don't want to lose you either."

He leaned up and closed the gap between them again - this time, the kiss was soft, and Malik's hand trailed down the smaller boy's back again, fingers moving in small circles.

Blinking as his eyes were wiped, he peered up to the male, hunger showing in his gentle hues. "Never will..." With a last gasp, Ryou kissed back gently, eyes staring into Malik's own as they kissed, arms beginning to tighten around him, giving the slightest thrust.

His tongue snuck out to softly brush up against Malik's lower lip, noses pressing together lightly. His fingers began to cling again as he kept pressing his body harder and harder against his boyfriend's own, wanting to give Malik as much pleasure as he possibly could.

A light moan escaped from Malik's throat as he thrust back, curling one of his legs around Ryou's. He reached up to tangle his fingers in the white hair, pressing their heads close enough to effectively deepen the kiss. Malik's other hand trailed downward, slipping underneath Ryou's shirt, pushing the fabric up slightly.

Their bodies were pressed so closely that they might as well have been one entity; to say that Malik was feeling absolutely warm was an extreme understatement.

As a leg was curled around his frail body, he let out a soft moan at the feeling of being even closer to his boyfriend. Tongue stroking against Malik's lips as the kiss deepened, he gave a cry and went as far in as he could wanting to get the biggest taste of Malik possible.

"M-Malik..!" Crying out into the male's mouth his eyes shut tightly, tears beginning to form once again due to all the pent-up frustration. Nails beginning to dig even deeper as the feeling within him began to feel too powerful, he crushed himself further into Malik, loving the sense of relief he got. "N-Need you so bad..!"

Both of Malik's hands were now underneath Ryou's shirt, and as they continued to move together, he pet and stroked the skin beneath his fingers. His lips fused to the other's throat again, slightly muffling the deep moans that were coming from his own throat.

Pressure and warmth continued to build within Malik, and he could feel sweat starting to run down the back of his neck as he kept on grinding himself into his boyfriend; eventually, pleasure exploded within his body and he tensed up, subconsciously biting down hard on the side of Ryou's neck. "N-nnnh..."

Arching into Malik's fingers, he silently begged for more having the desire for the nails to delve down deep into his skin. Eyes opening, he stared out to nothing, lips quivering as Malik's mouth began to invade his neck, sending him into a fit of whining. "Hoh, M-Malik...!" Pressing himself violently against Malik, he let out another cry as he was ground hard against.

Beginning to feel the pressure building within himself, Ryou pressed his body roughly against Malik's, screaming as his neck was bitten. "M-Malik..! A-Ahn!" Tears falling from soft eyes, Ryou was almost sure he was about to give out.

Malik was now thoroughly spent, but that didn't mean he'd let his boyfriend go unfinished. With a tired sort of growl, he grabbed a hold of Ryou's shoulders and sat up, pushing him over so that their positions were inverted. He had to sacrifice a bit of their closeness, but it would be worth it in the end.

Once he was situated above Ryou, Malik leaned down to catch his lips again, hand vigorously rubbing at the lump in the other's jeans.

Giving a yelp as they were flipped over, Ryou fell back onto the couch, immediately clinging to Malik, wanting him to stay close. "Ahn..!" Kissing the male back roughly, he yelped as his erection was rubbed, almost sobbing in pleasure at how wonderful it was to almost be relieved. A few moments later, Ryou was thoroughly spent and had let go as well only a short while after his boyfriend. "M-Malik..!"

Closing his eyes, Ryou hugged the other close, legs attempting to wrap around him to keep him nice and close so he knew Malik would never leave and there wouldn't be a chance of it. "M-Mph..."

As soon as Ryou climaxed, Malik withdrew his hand, winding both of his arms around Ryou's waist. "Mm..." He rested his body full on the one beneath him, head nestling in the crook of the other's neck. A bit of red caught his attention, and he eyed the spot that he'd bit down on earlier, pressing a light kiss to it. "Sorry, got a little carried away," he muttered.

Malik's eyes fell shut, breathing out a pleased sigh. "Don't feel like moving. Ever."

Cuddling the other to himself, he sighed happily as he was hugged, legs relaxing, yet still wrapped around the male comfortably. Letting out a slight giggle at the nuzzling, Ryou opened his eyes to peer to the head beside his own. "Huh? I really don't mind, it's not like many people will see anyway. My hair will cover it." Besides, what mattered most was how much he had enjoyed getting that mark, even if it was bad.

"Mm, no...you're too warm to move. I need you for my blanket so you can't move. I won't allow it!" Smiling, he let his eyes close again and began to feel a bit tired after working so hard.

Malik let out a slight chuckle, giving the other a tight squeeze. "Wasn't planning on moving for a long time. You're soft." He made his point by snuggling down into Ryou, head resting on the throw pillow next to him.

"... Told you I'd make up for that depressing conversation earlier, whether you wanted me to or not," he said, a smug grin forming on his face.

"Soft?" Questioning his boyfriend, he gave a tired smile, rather enjoying the snuggling against himself. It always made his heart so light to even begin to contemplate Malik and what it felt like to actually be given affection to.

"...No you didn't, did you?" Laughing softly, his fingers began to run beneath Malik's shirt, nails grazing along his tanned skin. "I don't remember those exact words said, but if you're sure, I guess I can believe you. All it really matters is that you did and I probably owe you something for that of which I am not sure of yet but will definitely figure out. You're too wonderful not to give you something in return."

"Mmf. Well, I said something similar. So there," Malik said, leaning over to peck the other's cheek. "... You don't owe me anything, Ry. Just stay here and be you. That's all I'm asking for."

Laughing, he leant into the kiss some, eyes closing. "Fine, I guess I'll give it to you then." Fingers dancing down the male's sides, he let them run downward before going back up and stopping at the small of the male's back, letting his hand rest there. "That's too easy though, I want to give you something better than that..."

Malik blinked, eyeing Ryou's face. "You've already given me all I really want. What else could you give...?"

Peering into Malik's eyes, Ryou felt a warmth encircle around him at those words. He had never dreamed before that anyone could ever say anything as nice as that to him and actually mean it and have it be obvious that they weren't lying whatsoever. How was it that no matter how much they said to each other, Malik could always find new ways to make him feel perfect when he knew he wasn't? "...I..." Cheeks aflame, he closed his eyes with a smile, and cuddled even closer to the other, unsure of what to say as it had left him a bit speechless. "Everything I possibly can to keep you saying that..."

"Well, then... do whatever you want," Malik said, resting his forehead against his boyfriend's cheek. "'Cause as long as you're here, I'm gonna keep on saying that."

"I will then!" Chirping happily, he gave his boyfriend a squeeze before settling again, leg resettling around him comfortably. "Don't plan on going anywhere without you, ever. Except for maybe asleep in a few minutes here because you and your sex drive tired me out again and you smell so good...I just want to...snuggle into you and clonk. Like always."

Malik grinned, reaching up to toy with a strand of Ryou's hair. "Why don't we go to bed, then? Or we can just go to sleep right here; whichever you wanna do."

"Right here..? I really don't want to move or most of all, have -you- move and I already know you can't carry my fat behind." Smiling, he turned his head to kiss Malik's head. "But if you 'd rather and want to attempt to carry me, that'd be okay but I'm not moving alone and that's all I know!"

"Oh, you're not fat, I'm just a little weakling," Malik said, playfully rolling his eyes. "But you can still cling to me while we walk to the bedroom. We've done it before. Several times, I might add."

"I know, I' m just kidding." Giving him another kiss, he broke out into a whine. "Maybe but still." Pouting childishly, he clung to the other a bit tightly. "You need to start lifting weights or something so you can carry me. Don't you understand my weak little body can't make it the few inches to the bedroom?!"

He couldn't help but snicker a little as he was squeezed tighter. "...you drama queen," Malik said, nibbling on Ryou's ear a little. "You're just lazy. But I don't mind staying here. It's rather comfy, don't you think?"

"Am not!" he yelped back, going a bit higher pitched than he had planned do the fact that his ear was being attacked. "And I know I am but...what do you expect? My daily exercise consists of a shower, TV, and small walks when I get tired of sitting here, waiting for you to come back to save me! And I already told you I was just fine right here with you." Smiling and snuggling closer, he gave a happy sigh.

"Well, okay then." Malik said, kissing the other's cheek again. "Just go to sleep right here, and I'll be here when you wake up, okay?"

"You'll be here when I wake up?" Murring at the kiss, his eyes fell closed again, nestling up for good this time, letting himself relax beneath the other male. "What does that mean? Are you not tired or something or just saying you won't leave me even if you wake up before?"

"Mm, both, maybe," he replied, settling his head in the crook of Ryou's neck. "The longer I lay here, the more tired I'll get. And yeah, if I do wake up before you, then I'll stay here. I need my human pillow, after all."

"Mmm...sounds good I guess. If you really don't want to stay though you don't have to..." Beginning to feel a bit drowsier than earlier, he let his hand fall back atop the couch arm. "I understand if you get bored laying here..."

Malik shrugged slightly. "So I'll just watch you sleep. Do you have any idea how utterly adorable you are when you're asleep?" He paused, and then added, "not that you're not cute all the time, but you know what I mean."

Laughing warily at his boyfriend's reply, he could feel his cheeks beginning to heat again. Damn Malik for always saying such nice, probably false things that made him want to melt into a puddle of Ryou! "Mm...no, I don't, but I guess I'll take your word for it. I rather think I probably look just as good as anyone else sleeping..." Body feeling heavier and heavier, as if it were sinking, he could feel sleep tugging at him, about to steal him away very soon, even if Malik kept talking.

Malik simply shook his head, an amused smile on his face. He'd make Ryou see the truth eventually. But for now, it was time to let the boy sleep. "...I'll shut up now so you can go to sleep, okay?" he asked, lifting his head up to look down at Ryou. "G'night, Ry." Malik gently pressed their lips together before lowering his head again, giving the other's neck a light nuzzle. "Love you."

"Mmkay." Smiling, he gave a little nod, weakly hugging his boyfriend. "Night 'Liky." Giggling tiredly, he kissed back with affection and let himself settle again, the nuzzles letting him begin to drift off again. "Love you more..." And of course, within a few minutes, Ryou was out like a light, only able to tell he was even in the room by his soft little snores.

As Ryou drifted off to sleep, Malik just laid there watching him, twisting strands of white hair between his fingers. He could feel the other's heart beating beneath him, and he was eventually lulled off into sleep by the comforting rhythm.

Sat, 01 Jul 2006 02:13:21 GMT

Characters: Diabound,(goldenfetish)Isis(tranquil_mentor) and Yusra(NPC)

Rating: PG-13 for alcohol and language.

Summary: The two resident alcoholics head out for a drink but going to a bar is a lot more difficult when Diabound has to bring Yusra everywhere he goes.

Pale blue eyes scanned the area past shaded glasses as Isis drove up to the residential hotel. Simply putting it, she was in desperate need of something to drink ~~the alcohol in her veins were starting to dry up~~ and she did agree to go with Diabound earlier that week. After pulling up her silver Impala infront of the hotel building, Isis quickly dialed the number, she presumed was Diabound’s cell phone, and waited for an answer on the other end.

Diabound had been more than agitated with his new found fatherhood, doing what he could to keep his lovely little girl from screaming her lungs out, that he'd completely forgotten the conversation he'd held with Isis (or perhaps he just hadn't taken her seriously). Either way, as the phone rang, he stopped, one arm holding Yusra and the other reaching for the phone. Yusra giggled, doing what Diabound had quickly discovered she enjoyed and pulling on his bangs. "Damnit -- hello?"

“My, someone sounds irritated.” Isis commented dryly at the other Egyptian, she barely noticed the little high pitched sounds at the other end but she merely presumed it was a bad connection or some interference.

Hissing, Diabound shifted to better hold the phone and Yusra both, moving to sit on his bed. Finding that made things easier (and that he could more or less just let Yusra lie there), he gave a small sigh of relief and demanded, "What do you want?" Not one for pleasantries, really, but at least he'd said hello.

Isis rolled her eyes, figures he would likely forget, “I was wondering if you’re in the mood for a drink, dumbass.” She stated, tapping the steering wheel with her fingers, “Didn’t we already discuss this a few days ago?” He was rude first, that was an open invitation for her to return the attitude.

"A drink?" Diabound murmured, suddenly dawning on him that he'd had a life before the squealing child at his side. "Oh, right..." He watched as Yusra pawed at him, trying to grasp a hold of her father's shirt. "A drink sounds nice."

Naturally, of course, he was completely leaving out the fact that he had his little girl to worry about. Isis could figure that out for herself, for all he cared.

“Fine. I’ll be in the hotel lobby, hurry up before I decide to leave,” she commented and hung up before Diabound could make a retort. Isis sighed in frustration as she casually got out of her car and headed inside the building to wait for him, glancing at the artwork that hung on the hotel walls.

Diabound set the phone aside, blue eyes now staring down at Yusra. Well, this was going to be hard to explain. With a sigh, he picked her up, taking a quick glance in the mirror and deciding he looked, as he always did, quite fine.

Making his way through the door, he quickly reached the lobby, shifting Yusra at his side every moment or two, still not fond of lugging around a baby. Eyes settling on Isis, he flashed her his trademark smirk, only to have Yusra pull hard on the first silver lock of hair she could reach, leaving Diabound wincing.

Isis could only stare at the bundle in his arms, its small limbs flailing to grab at anything and firmly tugging on Diabound’s hair. He had his kid with him? She looked quizzically at Diabound for a second, he wasn’t serious, was he?

Okay, apparently he was. The kid was coming with them.

“You’re planning on bringing an infant into a bar?!” she shouted incredulously. It was no real surprise that he didn’t have the slightest clue when it came to parenting but, Ra, he should atleast have some common sense!

"Would you prefer I leave it behind?" Diabound shot back, prying Yusra's small fingers from his hair and shifting her weight once more. He flashed her a sadistic smirk, "Because I can do that, too." Of course, he wasn't serious, but he sounded convincing enough, which was all he wanted.

Yusra cooed at his side, seemingly just now catching sight of Isis. She gave a small smile, one arm outstretched in attempt to get ahold of her.

Glancing at Diabound, she couldn’t reply to that at all, the only thing she could really think of was ‘what kind of idiot would leave him alone with a child?’ This was not going to work either way, Isis wasn’t completely sure if Diabound was joking or not about leaving the kid alone but, something told her she didn’t want to find out.

Diabound rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "So, backing out on the drinks, I take it?" A bit disappointed, but he'd expected as much. Yusra had prevented him from doing quite a few of the things he typically enjoyed. Or, maybe not so much prevented him, but gotten him a few weird looks in the process.

Isis thought for a second, she personally wanted something to drink, and with Yusra around Diabound would likely be somewhat deprived of anything alcoholic for a while, the kid just made things more complicated. Well, there was always another option, “Not quite,” she replied, “We’ll just head to my place instead.”

"Your place?" Diabound repeated, a bit surprised at the offer, but certainly not going to turn it down. "... That sounds fine..." He glanced to Yusra who was now squirming uncomfortably at his side.

“Okay, my car’s just out front,” Isis said, shrugging slightly and turning to head back to her car only to be jerked backwards. She turned back to see Yusra with a handful of her long hair held in the child’s tiny fist. “She does this often?”

"Sadly," Diabound muttered, once again prying Yusra's fingers apart. "Stop it, damnit."

Yusra only giggled at him, a grin on her face that was enough to make Diabound frown in response. Why did he have to get stuck with this?

Untangling her hair from the small child’s grasp and brushing it out with her fingertips, Isis sighed a bit. “So, shall we go?”

"If you want," came Diabound's gruff reply, attention focused instead on his daughter, who seemed to be searching, as far as he could tell, for yet another way to get into trouble. Ah, weren't children lovely.

Glaring slightly, Isis headed back to the exit, ~~this time without her hair getting pulled.~~ She was somewhat grateful now that she wasn’t the one with the child. Okay very grateful. Sure, she felt sorry for Diabound, but watching him struggle with even holding his daughter was too amusing.

Diabound followed, giving a heavy sigh, and once again moving Yusra to a more comfortable position.

Once they reached the silver Impala, Isis unlocked the doors and slid into the driver’s seat. She glanced at Diabound and the kid, why does she get the feeling that this would end up being troublesome? “You coming?”

Climbing into the passenger's side, Diabound just cocked an eyebrow at her. He wasn't that slow climbing in, and besides, how fast could she do it with a child in hand? Tch.

The ride itself was relatively quiet, the only noises being Yusra’s giggling and Diabound silently cursing whenever she yanked on his hair. They reached her place a few minutes later, Isis unlocking the door before Diabound even got out of the car with Yusra and tossed the keys onto the table before headed to the kitchen to look for something to drink.

As he did manage to get out of the car, Yusra cooed, then went into a small fit of giggles, leaving Diabound shaking his head, more than just slightly annoyed. Following Isis inside, Diabound shut the door behind him gently, a habit he'd had to pick up after Yusra arrived. Who knew children cried at the sheer sound of a door slamming anyway?

He didn't follow Isis to the kitchen, instead plopping down on the couch, setting Yusra beside him, letting her lie on her back. Sure, he should have been a tiny bit more careful with her, but what did he know about parenting?

Isis looked at Diabound and rolled her eyes at his antics, “I see you’re making yourself at home.” She commented, grabbing a strawberry Caledonian and headed towards the living room.

"I believe I deserve it," Diabound replied slyly as Yusra grabbed ahold of one of his fingers, tugging at it playfully. "Want to get me a drink?" Naturally, he made it sound as though it were a privilege.

“The option of getting one yourself never came to mind?” Isis remarked. She sat down on the chair opposite the couch and pointed to the kitchen with her drink in hand. “Besides, I wouldn’t know what you would like.”

"Oh, it came to mind, but I'm a guest," he almost purred the word, leaning back slightly, "and really now, anything will do. I'm not picky."

“I’m not a very good hostess,” she shrugged, “I’m offering you free drinks, the least you can do is go retrieve it yourself.” Isis sighed, she wasn’t very strong at arguments, never was and never will, this wasn’t going to last long.

Diabound gave her a slight snarl, certainly not going to lose an argument. "How rude," he replied casually, pulling his finger away from Yusra, only to have the child grab ahold of his shirt.

Yeah, like he was one to talk. Isis took a sip of her drink before getting up, she knew she couldn’t win any arguments, even if she tried so there was really no point. “What would you prefer?”

"Whatever will get me drunk fastest," was Diabound's reply, a smirk on his face. Ah, sweet victory...

Isis rolled her eyes and headed back to the cabinet, she didn’t have much else on hand other then coolers or anything higher then 10% alcohol content. Plus, some of the bottles had the labels torn and experimenting with unlabeled alcohol wasn’t a good idea, especially with a kid around. She looked around before pulling out a bottle of white rum. She went back to the living room and handed the bottle to Diabound, she wasn’t gonna drink it herself, might aswell not waste it.

Diabound bowed his head, the only thanks she'd receive from him, before quickly opening it and taking a large a swig. No use wasting time, of course. At his side, Yusra peered up at him with wide, confused eyes, still pulling lightly on his shirt.

Sparing a glance at Yusra, Isis frowned a bit, with Diabound getting more drunk by the second….
She sipped her drink a bit, maybe if she got a bit drunk herself, she wouldn’t have to think about it too much.

Diabound took another swig, Yusra tugged once again at his shirt. Realizing she wasn't going to sway her father's attention, she gave a loud sniffle before breaking into sobs.

This *did* catch her father's attention and he gave the child a passing glance before taking another drink. Not his problem. Or, it was his problem and he was going to ignore it for now.

The crying lasted for a minute before Isis got fed up with it. Diabound may be able to ignore it, but she sure as hell couldn’t.

Putting her drink down on a nearby table, Isis picked up Yusra and held her, although a bit awkward. “Come on now, let Daddy have his drink now and you could pull his hair later,” she said to the child in her arms, trying to calm the girl, only to wince when Yusra gave a sharp tug on a few stray black strands of her own hair. “Pulling my hair wasn’t an option.”

Diabound snickered in Isis' direction, blue eyes settling on the child for a quick moment before looking away. He just wouldn't worry about it now; he'd earned this break, or at least that's what he thought. He finished off his drink, perhaps drinking it too quickly and rested back against the couch. "A natural born mother, aren't you?" he commented cruelly at last.

“Fuck you,” Isis hissed, after she was finally able to get Yusra’s crying to simmer down to a quiet sob. Although with the child clinging onto whatever hair or fabric her tiny fists could grasp made it hard for Isis to put her down so she just kept holding the infant girl.

Her words only made Diabound grin as he stretched to get more comfortable. "Ah, watch your mouth in front of the child. Can't have that being the first word she learns." Naturally, he didn't mean it considering half the things he'd said (and done) in front of Yusra were much worse.

Isis sent a glare at Diabound as she sat back down in the chair, Yusra still clinging onto her. “Like you’re one to talk,” She muttered bitterly. She tried to get Yusra to let go of her shirt but every time she attempted, the child's grip became stronger and she let out a small whimpering sound. This was annoying her greatly.

"Mm, but she needs a good, solid female role model, don't you think?" Diabound smirked, running his tanned fingers through silver hair before giving a heavy sigh. "After all, the only other woman she's ever known was a whore who had nothing going for her other than a decent appearance."

A solid female role model being just as much an alcoholic as her father, yeah, just what the kid needed. Shifting Yusra a bit so her arms wouldn’t go numb from holding her, she sighed. “And your point would be?”

Diabound snickered, shaking his head. "I don't have a point, I'm partially drunk." He gave her a cocky smirk, a typical expression. "You two look right at home."

“Yeah. Right.” She said partially sarcastic. Diabound looked like he was making himself at home himself, it didn’t seem like he would be leaving any time soon himself. Terrific.

"What? Would you prefer we leave?" Diabound offered, noting the tone of her voice. He, however, made no move to get up.

This question kinda surprised Isis, mostly because she didn’t know what her answer would be. She looked down at the girl in her arms to see Yusra starting to doze off and gave a soft smile. “I…..don’t know.” She replied honestly. Sure, it was annoying most of the time but, now that she thought about it, it really wasn’t that bad.

"You don't know?" Diabound gave her a skeptical look, cocking an eyebrow. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He then glanced at his daughter, now more than half-asleep, and sighed bitterly. "I'm pretty sure it was a straight forward question."

Okay, she took all that sentimental crap back now. “How rude,” she huffed.

Diabound shrugged. "Honest question," he replied with a small smirk, though it lacked his usual flare. "Seems like an odd thing to 'not know' on."

Isis rolled her eyes, “Says the one who downed a bottle of rum in less then a minute.” She looked down at Yusra to see that she was completely asleep now, and no longer clinging to Isis’ shirt, but she still made no move to give her back to her father.

"Planning to keep my baby?" Diabound taunted, ignoring Isis' first comment as he sat up straight for a moment, about to stand up but not quite there yet

"You're more then welcome to take her back." Isis replied, shifting Yusra in her arms a bit when she needed to hand her back to Diabound.

Diabound snorted, standing now and taking Yusra from Isis, before cocking his head to the side. "Then, shall I go?"

Isis finally reached back for her drink and took a quick gulp, downing roughly a quarter of it in one go. She blinked a bit at Diabound’s question and thought about it. “Depends, would you rather call up a taxi or stay here for the night?” This was about as much logic as she could get out right now, the alcohol slowly starting to dull her senses.

Yusra in arms, Diabound moved her so the young girl could rest her head on his shoulders, blue eyes settling on Isis for a moment as he considered the proposition. It had caught him off guard at first, but he figured finally it was the alcohol talking, though she hadn't had much, and brushed it off. "I suppose you'll prefer I choose the first option?"

“Doesn’t really matter to me,” she replied, shrugging slightly. She wasn’t that drunk at all, more like a little out of it, but it was mostly due to her being a bit drowsy. Resting her head on folded arms, she just relaxed a bit until Diabound gave an answer.

And again that left Diabound to think the situation over. "I..." He glanced at Yusra for a moment, a light smirk (almost sad) on his lips. "Doubt you want a child in your house at night. You get no sleep."

Isis rolled her eyes, “I had to live with Malik and Marik when they were growing up, I doubt anything could be as bad.” Sure, this was mostly true but, she couldn’t remember when the twins were Yusra’s age, she herself was only four at the time. Oh well, Yusra was asleep now, how bad could she be? "So I'm presuming you're going to stay here?"

Diabound snickered in response, certainly glad he was gifted with a single child instead of twins. "... I suppose so," he replied at last, though a bit hesitant. After all, the fact that Yusra was asleep now only meant she'd wake up later with more energy than before.

After taking another sip from the bottle in hand, Isis slowly got up from where she rested. She figured she should probably show Diabound where the spare bedroom was, being a good hostess and all. “In that case, I’ll show you around,” she replied, with a bit of a tired smile.

"Lead the way," Diabound murmured, waving his hand as if he was ushering her on, careful not to move too much and wake the sleeping child. His blue eyes scanned the vincinity, partially wondering why the hell he'd just agreed to spend the night with Isis. Think of the trouble that would cause in the morning.

Shaking his head of the thoughts, he decided he'd simply wait for further instruction. No use overthinking the situation.

Isis lead the other Egyptian down the hall, wondering what in Ra’s name was she thinking letting him stay the night. Well, it was a bit too late to suddenly say ‘no’ to him now. She opened the door to the completely unused bedroom, surprisingly there was no layer of dust forming on anything, “You can sleep here.”

Eyeing the room, Diabound gave a small nod before sarcastically muttering, "Looks lovely." Yusra gave a small murmur, stretching slightly, but remained asleep. "Mind if I lay her down?"

“Go ahead,” she replied, ignoring his previous comment. Isis figured there was no point of her remaining around, she was about ready to follow Yusra’s lead and go to sleep herself.

Diabound walked into the room, pulling back the covers and gently setting Yusra down, kissing lightly at her forehead before standing up stiffly, giving a dark glare to Isis. "You going on to bed?"

Isis glared back at him but still nodded, turning around to head to her own room across the hall.

Diabound stretched slightly, keeping silent as he watched her go. No use keeping her...

Sliding off his shirt, he turned back to the bed, pulling the covers back once more. After tossing it to the floor, he slid beneath them, moving to wrap his arms around Yusra. Might as well try to fall asleep.

X marks the male ego.

Tue, 27 Jun 2006 16:06:28 GMT

Characters: Varon (aussie_biker) and Yami (idonthaveityet)

Rating: PG-13 for blood and bloody fucking idiots?

Summary: ~~Would've been posted aaaaages ago if I paid any attention at all, but~~ set the night Varon skipped off for Oz. Yami muses au musée, Varon arrives to drag him to the airport to see him off, and...dragging would've been much easier if Yami hadn't managed to lose himself inside a museum exhibit. Too good to ask for directions, absolutely.

The museum was a poor substitute for his homeland, and the preserved fragments of an ancient civilization a far cry from the modern world, but Yami was drawn to it regardless. ~~Drank it in like he'd never see home again.~~ Child of archaeologists, after all, and without any real memory of the Egypt he'd grown up in, but a vivid picture of the one that had fascinated his parents so. ~~The one that claimed them.~~

He wasn't resigned to it, not yet. 'It' being this idea that after all the scraping and scrounging and working for the first time in his life and the cookies and the blackmail and everything else, he didn't have enough. Not nearly, not hardly. He wasn't resigned to it, not yet. There was still -- however it happened, there was still a chance. You could always win a game; it was just a matter of finding a way.

But tonight he didn't seem to be finding anything, just drifting from floor to floor of the exhibit on ancient Egypt. He'd been in here before, though he didn't remember much. Their first few weeks in Japan, he'd stayed incessantly, got into the habit of going there after his daily visit to Yuugi in the hospital, after they told him he had to leave because visiting hours had ended, and he'd thrown a tantrum and left in tears. There'd been a section of the exhibit with a funerary barque and an artificial riverbank, and he'd sit on the false rocks and lean against the glass and imagine funerals that never happened for bodies that were never recovered.

He'd imagine himself to be different things on different days, but he always played a part in the ceremony. Some days, he was the embalmer, and he'd hurry straight to the exhibit with the embalming tools and the tablets to describe the rituals for the dead. He'd stand grimly before the statue of the priest of Anubis, try to mimic the smooth, emotionless expression and burn the image of each knife and instrument and talisman and scrap of linen and vial of sacred oil into his mind.

Then he'd hurry to where the mummy was kept -- sometimes there were different mummies, on loan from different museums, but there was always at least one, black and dessicated and sometimes missing pieces, but always so old -- and stand over it, shut his eyes so he could properly envision all the tasks a funerary priest had to carry out, all their sacred duties.

He'd picture in his head every movement, every step of the process, every little amulet or symbol slid in-between layers of linen, every coat of oil or perfume, the drying of the body with the special salts, and he'd imagine the corpse wasn't some lesser princess or on rare occasion, a Pharaoh, but his mother's or father's, painstakingly prepared for the journey into the next life, not left, unrecovered, no passage to Duat, to Sekhet Aaru, to this mythological peace he didn't believe in, but knew they needed.

He also liked to play, briefly, at being the one to cut the incision through which the organs were removed, though that never lasted long. Just as the funeral rites were so sacred no Egyptian records of the process were ever created, the body was sacred too, and any who harmed it had to be driven away. But he liked that part, always, imagining where he'd put his hand on the abdomen to hold the body still, and how steadily, perfectly he'd be able to make that smooth cut. In his mind, the body would still be as warm to the touch as the sand, always taken immediately to be prepared, never left behind.

Sand wasn't quite right in Japan, never so warm and so gold as it'd been there, and he'd never gone swimming at the beach again, after he'd realized that.

Other times he was the priest to read the rites during the funeral ceremony itself, after the body had safely placed inside so many shells of gold and precious stones. Then he would stand by the artificial Nile again, and envision himself at the prow of the boat, painted and draped in his ritual costume, unflinching before the bodies he'd never been able to see. He'd recite in his mind the words he prized like jewels from off fragmented documents in the museum basement, tried to get the pronunciation perfect.

He'd done it, flawlessly, after so many hours at it, and each time he played that particular role, he'd think of how proud Father would have been of how well he'd learned, how quickly.

But he liked playing the Pharaoh, the newly crowned one after his father had passed on and left the kingdom in his hands, the best. A few weeks after Yami came to Japan, while he was still spending hours in the museum, using it as a refuge, they'd gotten a replica of a Pharaoh's throne, one left out in the open for children to play on and for adults to have pictures taken with, and when no one was wandering through, Yami would sit on the throne and try to remember -- as if it were something he could remember -- what it was like thousands of years ago, when his ancestor might have sat on the same throne.

And what it might have felt like to be a boy-king, with the legacy of all your fathers before you and the world at your feet, before you could even quite reach the floor with but the tips of your toes. Or to have your father taken away from you before you'd yet learned how to be a man, or even how to be yourself. Or to hope and wonder but never know if he'd taught you enough that you could fulfill your responsibilities, if he'd been taken before he was finished molding you into what you needed to be, had to learn to be for the family.

Pretending to be the new Pharaoh felt most at home to him.

He'd sat a while in the throne now, this afternoon, this evening. The time had shifted while he'd wandered through various exhibits, but Yami had always liked museums best at night, anyway.

Some halls on the top floor had skylights, and if you happened to stay, small and easily distracted, and avoid the security guards, then as a child, when you were so tiny, locked into the museum after all but the night watch had left and all the lights had been shut off, then you could sit with your back against the pedestal that held the bust of some ancient Pharaoh, and the stars painted the whole world over in silver-blue and it didn't matter where in the world you were, because they were the same stars and it was just as lonely as it would've been in the desert some six thousand miles away.

He'd never done that again, not because of the punishment -- he'd been grounded indefinitely, spent the first day of it locked in his room and sobbing, feverishly solving puzzles and devouring books and winning games and wiping at hot, angry tears the way children are wont to; the second day he announced that he refused to be grounded, and no one argued -- but because of Yuugi.

The hospital would throw him out, of course, long before it was time for bed, and so each night he'd make a phonecall. Tell Yuugi what he'd done and seen and how it was outside the hospital, how everything was all right, and how Yuugi would get better and come see all of it with him, and that he loved him, and all the childish things he'd think of to say to keep the conversation alive and make it feel as if they were as inseparable as they had been before Yuugi had become so small and so weak and so locked away from him in some terrible white hospital.

(That was another thing he liked about the museum -- the rich dark colors of the walls and the carpet and the exhibits. There was nothing white. Black pedestals and dark red carpet and warm beige walls at the lightest.)

Yuugi hadn't gotten his phone call that night, and Yami hadn't made to the hospital lobby before he'd started to choke on tears, and Yuugi hadn't been angry at him, had just been scared and teary-eyed and so happy he wasn't gone, gone like their parents were, gone in that black space you just disappeared to, no good-byes, no body, just nothing, just this hole where something used to be.

He'd been nigh on sobbing by the time he'd reached Yuugi's room, which wasn't altogether unusual for children in hospitals, but he was ashamed -- not of his crying, as he'd never been taught that that was wrong or beneath him, only that giving up was -- because he'd hurt Yuugi. Scared him, badly, and made him think he'd been about to do the one thing he'd been made to swear he never would: abandon his brother.

He hadn't then, he never would, but he'd lost himself in a world that wasn't this one, wasn't here and now with Yuugi, and he'd hurt him by that, and he'd promised himself he'd never do it again. ~~He had, in the asylum, but that was different, because he hadn't just lost sight of Yuugi. He'd lost everything.~~

He wanted to show Varon the stars there. He didn't have the money for Egypt, and he didn't know what was going to happen to them, but he did know Varon and he did know stars and "Come with me," he'd say, and "You won't go home" and "I won't leave" and "I'll show you how the stars were three thousand years ago, and what it was like before the world changed" and they would never leave that moment, and everything would be fine, and there would be no reminders of anything here, anything now.

All that would be left would be the eternal. Stars and these ancient statues and themselves and ideas like friendship and being bound and brothers and the infinite and right and wrong and justice being served and what it was to taste vengeance and what it was to love someone, and there wouldn't be things so petty and so meaningless as so small as death and suffering and grief. Marik's world would flicker out; what was even the greatest holocaust but a tiny spark of fire in the calm of eternity?

So the only thing that would remain was the marble, smooth and cool to the touch, and the spirit, and the night sky, and the sand, and things that could remain whole.

Yami's visits to the museum had gradually tapered off. He'd grown up, really, learned what it was to see someone hurt Yuugi, learned what he needed to punish for that, learned that the world had no time for dreaming in museums amongst relics from a time long since dead and forgotten. Learned a lot of things, had learned, and he felt so old here now, where he'd once been so tiny. He'd forgotten what museums were like years ago.

They'd made a new addition. He wasn't sure when, but it was an interesting one. A room devoted to the reconstruction of a section of a tomb. He wasn't sure when it'd been built; the plaque by the entrance explained that the passages it was based on were fully excavated in 2004, so it couldn't have been very long. He'd made his way there, eventually, and recognized the feel of the place.

So cold, cramped, dark, claustrophic, but so pretty as well, so old. Places like this, more of them than could even be found now, had outlasted the wars and famines and golden ages of so many kingdoms and so many centuries, all just to seal away the body of a king, a noble, a priest. With all the Pharaoh's treasures, ridiculous and priceless caches of gold.

And in one of them, his parents had died.

Yami stayed a while, explored, got lost, found his way again, lost himself intentionally, came to rest at the limits of the reconstruction, a tiny room with the records of some great victory against some foreign nation long since wiped out of existence carved and painted and highlighted in gold. Eight o'clock came and went, he rested his head against the wall, he thought.

He wondered just where home was, after all, and what he hoped to find there.

Five hours and thirty minutes. Just five hours and thirty minutes, and then Varon would be on the plane and it would be taking off and he’d be going home. He hadn’t been home since Christmas, and he cringed realising that. He’d been away from home for over six months. He hadn’t seen his parents, his friends, his own room, his town, the roads, anything for six months. His mother always said he had to come home now, she missed him, wasn’t he missing home? Yes, of course he was, and six months seemed horribly daunting now he thought about it.

He was the only child, too, which just served to make it even worse than if he’d had siblings to distract his parents. He couldn’t even think of an excuse for being away so long - he could have gone home the day the dorms burnt down and put the school out of action. He should have, but he didn’t. Yami. He’d stayed, and had Yami, and worried about Yami, and would’ve gone out of his mind worrying if he’d gone home. Didn’t think of it, consciously, just told his mother that classes might start back up or he’d book a flight soon, he promised!

‘Soon’ turned out to be ‘months later’, but he finally booked it for the 18th. Back for Father’s Day and the football match. His father had been calling every day since the match against Japan, when normally he took the phone from Varon’s mother every couple of days to make sure for himself that it was his son on the other end of the line. Maybe it was because it was Father’s Day, or maybe he was just looking for something to bond with Varon over, but he’d offered to pay the three thousand two hundred and fifty Aussie dollars to get Varon on that flight. Then he’d gotten the Australian football shirts and informed Varon that they’d be in Melbourne’s Federation Square to watch the game. Varon’s uncles and cousin were coming along as well, with most of the guys Varon knew going too. He’d be jet-lagged, only a few hours back on Australian soil after a flight from Osaka to Bangkok to Melbourne, but he was going to see the match.

It’d make a difference from being in the garage, watching the game and getting glares from Japanese when they realised he was an Australian and the Australians had just humiliated them.

But now he had five hours and twenty five minutes before take off, and he wanted Yami now. Yami was coming to the airport, Yoshida already on his way there with Varon’s things. If he only had five hours and twenty five minutes left in Japan, then Yami was going to be in them.

As daunting as six months seemed now, when he stopped to think about how long he’d been away from home, not seeing Yami for God only knew how many months was even more daunting. Parents, you seemed able to grow away from. Most kids were able to leave their parents and not see them for months, because no matter how much they loved their parents, that was different from their spouses or partners or boyfriends. Varon didn’t need to touch either of his parents; he could live without being engulfed in suffocating hugs from his mother. Yami, though, he wanted to touch. Loved touching. Was supposed to touch. He couldn’t touch Yami over a phone line or an Internet connection.

He didn’t even know how long Yami would be in Egypt for. He didn’t see much point in coming back to Japan when all he’d be doing was work during the day and moping around the Chem. Lab in the evening. He could switch the day on the ticket to suit when Yami was coming back, if he came back before the term re-started. If Yami wasn’t coming back by the end of August they were all meant to go back for university, Varon’d just have to go back anyway. He’d have homework to keep him occupied, at least, but back home, without school, he’d still have family and friends. And as bad as his reputation had gotten to be, in terms of how annoying and fist-happy he was, he still had people in Melbourne that would actually want to spend time with him. In Japan, that was really limited to Yami, and maybe Yoshida at a push.

Yami had said he might not come back, but he was running the Street War. He was coming back to do that, and he couldn’t run it from Egypt. He didn’t have to come back for it, but he wanted to, by the looks of it. And that was good, because he had names down for the thing. Varon was going to take Yami out, and it would be a normal thing. Like chasing him around the house or making cookies or not-quite-fucks in the bathtub. Even just holding onto Yami and Yami sat on the counter, legs around Varon, that was normal. Immensely so.

But Yami wasn’t outside the museum. He’d said eight at the museum, and admittedly, he hadn’t specified outside it. It would be typical of Yami to be waiting somewhere in the deepest, darkest crevice of the place. Varon checked his watch, two minutes past eight, and pulled off his helmet. He’d brought another one for Yami, borrowed from Yoshida. Got off the motorcycle and put the helmet on the seat, pocketed his keys and started up the steps of the museum. Surely it was near closing time and someone would find and get rid of the cockatiel inside? He wasn’t waiting outside. Maybe the reception?

Varon’d gone a few times in the first few months after he’d arrived in Domino. There hadn’t been much else to do and he’d gone to museums with his grandfather in Australia. It was an all right museum, nothing to particularly interest him, but it wasn’t too bad for wandering in when outside wasn’t as preferable. It’d been a while, though, and exhibits would have changed, new ones added and older ones taken away.

No Yami in the reception. Great. He didn’t - well, he just had time to start hunting him down, but probably not enough time to get to the airport early. He’d have to see to his motorcycle and check in, then spend time holding onto Yami before he had to get on the plane. But he’d end up getting lost and missing his flight if he even tried, so he’d just use the same trick he had the other day when Yami had insisted on running through the house away from him.

He got his mobile out and leaned against a wall, pressed speed dial for Yami and put the mobile to his ear. He just had to hope Yami hadn’t put it on silent - he could just imagine the reaction he’d get if his mobile blared into life when the museum was so quiet - turned it off or left it at home.

Yami didn't answer at first. Still...thinking. Still something, at any rate. Distantly acknowledged the ringing, though it took a moment for the fact that that was his mobile and he should be doing something about it to register. What was he doing here, really? Museum. Just the last refuge for things that were good and dead and gone to gather dust together while they played make-believe that they meant something.

No, that wasn't right. The past meant something. Past was what you built the future on -- which didn't make it a curse, didn't mean it dictated what came after. Past was what you had to teach you, for better or worse, and past was what you over came. Then there was future; future was what you fought for. Present was where you dealt with past and learned how to move beyond it and where you did the fighting, which meant that museum was...a reference back. Memory aid.

So not a refuge for things long since past relevance, but a refuge from the present when the past was starting to slip too far away. The good parts of the past, rather. The parts he wanted to remember, the ones that made him feel safe. ...And it was death, here, that he came to remember, when he was a child mimicking the Egyptian rituals, and here and now, in a replica of a tomb. And the present was still calling, faint electronic tones attempting to drag him back.

Museum would be in past tense too, soon. He pulled out his mobile, opened it. Stared at the screen, but the text didn't really register. "Yami, where are you?"

Good question. Yami considered, tried to mentally retrace his steps, then recalled that he was lost. He'd not wanted to find his way out. Only to wander and think and try to remember...something. He hadn't quite gotten to that yet, though he would. Eventually. "...Yami?"

Earlier in the day, there'd been a handler at the entrance to the tomb with a stack of guides, with pictures of the inside of each room and directions for the shortest way out from each, but Yami hadn't wanted into the tomb then, and he wouldn't have taken a map anyway. When he had decided to go explore the tombs, the velvet rope had been put up, the guides had cleared out, and the handler had gone; the lights were dimmed and the area wasn't exactly difficult to register as off-limits.

So he'd ducked under the rope, wandered a bit in the low light, and here he was. "Yami, answer me!"

There was a pedestal at the far end of the room, with a statuette of a cat -- stylized black and gold with the marks of Bast -- sitting on the center, easily as broad as Yami was. He set the phone down beside the cat's paws and considered. He didn't have anything useful on him to serve as a marker if he left this one chamber and tried to navigate blind. Aside from a bit of that purple glitter still stuck to the keys, but that really wouldn't help.

His hand hadn't been stitched up after that...unfortunate encounter with Yoshida's door, so if worst came to worst, he could leave bloody handprints to mark his passage, but...that seemed a touch excessively macabre.

"Yami!"

Panicked that time, sounding genuinely scared, and it stole Yami's attention from the calculation he'd been making of just how much blood he'd -- "Shhhh." He kept up pacing, eyes shut now; "Shhhh. I'm here. I'm..." lost "...playing a game. Hide-and-go-seek. The way out of the maze is hiding, and I...I'm seeking."

“Yami!” Kill anyone, anyone, if someone had done something to him. That might’ve been why he wasn’t there, at the front of the museum or in the reception. Someone had taken him and God only knew what someone could do and -

Yami. Varon started breathing again, dragging his fingers through his bangs. “Yami.” Could say it calmly now, because no one had kidnapped him and he hadn’t died or gotten into some other trouble. “Yami, you bloody idiot.” Could be angry at him now for being a true bloody idiot. Didn’t bother answering for long enough. Idiot. That could’ve meant anything, and scared Varon. It must’ve been how parents felt when their kids were AWOL and not answering their mobiles.

But, he had to remind himself, Yami wasn’t a kid. Yami was older than Varon, even if only by a few months, and Yami was capable of taking care of himself. Doctor was supposed to have been a different issue altogether, Marik too, but Yami was always so bloody adamant he could take care of himself. Varon was used to girlfriends and taking care of them by instinct - he didn’t have another male ego to compete with.

Yami, however, was a bloody idiot who didn’t think to answer until you’d worked yourself into a suitable fit of panic, and then answering with the “Shhh, I’m here,” you’d normally get from your mother when you’re six years old and crying from a nightmare. ~~Mother, he was supposed to be going home to his own mother.~~ Not only that, but he was playing hide and go seek with an exit.

Varon glanced at his watch - five minutes past now, all right, fair enough - but Yami was playing hide and seek with an exit, which could only mean the idiot had managed to get himself lost. In a museum. When it was dark. Idiot.

“What maze?” Varon stepped up to a map of the museum, scanning it briefly. “…wouldn’t happen to be a tomb, would it?” He put his fingertip to the plastic cover on the map, tracing from the entrance down, down and … down. Idiot.

'Yami, you bloody idiot' -- his given name, and three English words; it was strange to hear Varon speak English. He didn't sound like the tapes Yami had listened to in the courses he'd taken, probably something to do with the Aussie spirit, but it wasn't hard to understand, given that was one of Varon's favorite phrases in English or Japanese.

Paused a moment, summoned the proper English words to respond: "I love you too."

Then back to Japanese, "Yes, a tomb." English was an interesting language, useful at least, but it felt almost mechanical, the sharp sounds on the ends of the words and the way the space between them was so definite. Arabic had something of the same harshness, but the syllables curled together more fluidly, and the vowels were lower and more fluid. Then Japanese, lighter and quicker on his tongue than either, and hieratic, which came slowest but had a warmth to it he was never quite certain he was communicating properly.

"The exit can't be that difficult to find; I'm sure I'll be out in a few minutes."

After all, it'd only been two hours or so he'd been wandering about in here, and he was at the very last dead end, furthest from the starting point. Which would've been good to know, if the maze had been linear, but the different chambers and passages were twined together in a way that was hard to parse as Egyptian; it didn't seem to fit together the way any other tomb was laid out: one straight passage with a few different sets of chambers branching out.

Even the caches weren't arranged like this, and contemplating his situation, if Yami had been paying attention to more than the tangled mess inside his skull, he might've started to become concerned...hours ago?

"...Come in a few paces, to the first turn" ~~and no further or you'll be lost as well~~ "and call out? To give away the exit's hiding place. We really don't have time to play the game fairly just now."

And even more odd to hear Yami speak English - he knew enough that Varon could’ve talked to him in English, but it was so much easier just talking in Japanese. Varon was fluent enough in it, and Yami had been raised speaking it. The only academic subject Varon didn’t have to worry about passing in was languages. Most of his French was forgotten now, from lack of use, but he’d spent years learning Japanese off his Japanese neighbours back home in Oz. They used to baby sit him when he was younger and started giving things Japanese names, like the dog he had then was inu and his mother was okaasan, his father otousan.

Besides, Japanese was ever so convenient when he was older and needed a way to swear in front of his parents or annoy people. He couldn’t take Japanese as a class, but he didn’t even need to. He spoke with the neighbours in Japanese and learnt new words that way. So, really, he’d just grown up bilingual. It was a big part of his decision to go to Japan for university - his neighbours had always told him about Japan, how brilliant it was, and he wanted to put his second language to proper use.

“Yami, how far into that tomb are you?” He followed the map, having to lift his finger from where it started sloping down off the first floor diagram and onto the basement. If Yami had gone too far in, he could take pictures on his phone and send them to Yami in the hopes that he’d be able to find his way out soon. If Yami was near the entrance, then he’d be out in a few minutes, yes. But Yami was Yami, and knowing him, he’d have found one of the darkest corners in the whole damn maze.

“I’ve got a map in front of me, so d’you want pictures of it sent, or are you near enough the exit you’d hear me?” Because, damn it, anyone else could be in that tomb as well they’d end up being late to the airport. It was just as well Varon had a habit of being late and had learnt to make way for it. Ironically, though, he’d been on time tonight, while Yami was skipping merrily through a recreated Egyptian tomb.

…and he was going to Egypt. Oh, brilliant. Varon could worry and fret from Australia; if Yami was getting himself lost in fake museum tombs, then Egypt, land of the many maze-like tombs, was not the best place to go. But he’d have Yuugi with him, and people weren’t allowed into tombs without guides if they weren’t professionally qualified to go in alone.

Right now, focus on getting Yami out and getting to the airport to get home. Out of this museum, because it had to have guards in it - who may not be trustworthy - and who in their right minds wandered through replica tomb mazes at this time? Yami being the exception, because Yami was just a bloody idiot. … Varon really had to stop fretting over him.

"...I'm not entirely certain." Yami paused, tried to remember, but he'd been paying little attention on the way in. He'd lost and found himself a few times, but then he took a passage that'd sloped down sharply, and after that the rooms had been interconnected and smaller, less definite, some of them identical, some passages sloping off into nothing at all, or leading up into 'traps' that had been sprung.

He forced himself to stop pacing, snatched up the mobile again, then climbed up onto the statue's stand. The cat was more the size of a lion, really, and he swung an arm around it to haul himself up entirely. Might as well be comfortable, since he couldn't leave the room without a clear plan of attack. That was suicide in a real maze, and here, it'd just have him wandering in circles. If Kitten was getting to the airport, there wasn't time for labyrinth nodes or the right hand rule.

So he leaned back, braced his legs against the wall, tucked an arm behind his head. "How big is it? I've been inside two hours, and if the map shows individual rooms, I should be..." Kitten wouldn't be terribly pleased, would he? "...Find the furthest point from the entrance you can reach on the lowest level of the tomb. You should have a small room with passages leading off in three directions. If it shows the artifacts in each room, there'll be a statue representing Bast; I'm leaning on it now."

Varon followed the paths down on the lower level, feeling of foreboding settling the further he had to follow. Stopped, eventually, and peered closer at the square of tiny text labelling a statue of Bast. Idiot. Fucking idiot. He followed back along the path and cursed quietly, “Yami, love, you’re a fucking idiot.” He traced up again, shaking his head. He was going to strangle Yami. If he’d spent two hours in the tomb already it’d probably take him a good portion of that time to get back out.

Groaned, and banged his head against the plastic. “You’re just bloody lucky I’m normally late.” They had two hours to get to the airport, travelling time included with space for traffic, delays and bad weather. The rest of the time was how long it took him to pick Yami up, be late for picking Yami up and possibly the time it might take to detach himself from Yami. Now it was for how long it took to find Yami and strangle him.

“I know where you are. D’you want me to follow the map down to where you are, or do you want it sent so you can work your way back up yourself?” And the correct answer to that, Varon hoped Yami realised, was the former. Varon would’ve sooner been down there with him, instead of whoever else might be lurking about. ~~That, and getting to spend more time before he had to leave him for what could potentially be months.~~

Latter was infinitely preferable to being handheld back to the exit as if he weren't capable of finding it on his own, but on the other hand, Kitten had a flight to catch, which meant getting out of here as quickly as possible. That, and he knew for a fact that closing time was nine, meaning he'd have a little under an hour to get out of here before the power was cut to the lighting and he was left to fumble his way out in the dark and minus one Kitten. That wasn't the most appealing concept.

On the other hand, there wasn't time for Varon to struggle the whole way down here, get to him, and then attempt to get out again. Maybe time to find Yami and start back before the lights went out, but intriguing as the possibilities of being lost in the dark in here until morning could be, at the right angle, that wouldn't do either.

"Neither." Yami climbed back off his pedestal and surveyed the room again. Three ways to go, and each of those would branch off at least twice even if they were headed for a dead end. He started to work at peeling the bandages off with his free hand. "Send me what you can of the map, then start in yourself. With any luck, we'll meet in the middle."

Winced a little - the bandages had kept his hand mostly immobile, keeping the cuts from cracking open, but a bit of flexing his fingers would be enough to tear most of them open. They'd been deep, probably deep enough that he should have gone in for sutures instead of leaving it to Varon to pick the glass out, but at least he'd get something out of it now, yes? Hissed as he tried to move the phone to the other hand once the tape and gauze had been tugged back, but bit down on it quickly enough Varon shouldn't have heard.

...Varon. Begged the question of how Varon was going to mark the way he took, ~~and how Displeased he was apt to be if he ran into any of Yami's markers on the way through, concept of which really shouldn't have amused Yami as much as it did.~~ But smirking at the idea of if Varon would scream like a girl or just manage a auditory version of his oubli;hgio;uikgs was a touch more appealing than cringing at the way his hand seemed to be intent on reminding him just how ~~stupi~~ ill-thought-out trying to punch glass was.

"You wouldn't happen to have any breadcrumbs, would you?"

Given time constraints, Yami’s idea was probably the smarter one, provided they took the routes they were meant to. Nodded and gave a “Mhm,”, scanning the map yet again. He’d know it by heart, soon enough, The guides had to, the ones advertised on the same wall. Go for a tour of a tomb replica, but don’t worry about getting lost, because this trained member of staff can show you where to go and get you back out again. You can go in on your own, but that’s not a smart idea, because as you can see, we’ve wasted what looks to be millions of yen on a complicated waste of our government funding.

Also, keep your idiotic boyfriends on a leash at all times - you wouldn’t want to miss your flight home, now would you?

“Right. In the middle it is,” and ha. Yes, of course, he never left home without his handy packet of breadcrumbs! His sense of direction was good enough he didn’t normally need any, but he was going to have to drop Yuugi an email telling him to either invest in a leash or make sure Yami had breadcrumbs wherever he went.

He pinned the phone to his ear with his shoulder, checking his jacket pockets. Keys and previously mobile there. Inside pocket had his plane tickets and wallet. Jeans had loose change, a note of what Yoshida wanted back from Australia and chewing gum. That could work. Fished the packet out and grabbed the mobile in his hand again before it slid.

“I don’t have breadcrumbs, but I do have gum with gum wrappers, conveniently enough. Hang up and I’ll send you the images.” Paused and frowned. He could’ve sworn he heard - "Yami, what are you doing?"

"Nothing"-click was such a very effective way to answer so very many questions. Yami tore back the last of the tape and tucked the gauze into his pocket. One of leather's many plus sides - no lint to stick to bandages.

Now to see to hand. It didn't look terribly bad. Hurt enough he grit his teeth, and having it open to air again stung, but it should serve the purpose. Didn't look infected, which was something of a surprise, given how filthy the glass had been. Chalk it up to Kitten's nursing skills, or something. ~~Certainly made it quite worth having to sit through another few bandage-redressing sessions after the gauze was soaked in the bath.~~

Now to figure out how to mark. This room shouldn't be much trouble to remember, but once he took one of the three corridors leading off from it, he should come up with a system to list them as cleared. Just two lines, then, an angle to mark the way he'd taken; that'd use the least amount of blood possible, surely, and be easiest to keep track of.

...Well. Security would have an interesting time of it, first thing in the morning.

Varon blinked, then looked at his phone and scowled. Bloody idiot. Just a pity Varon wouldn’t have enough time to yell at him before they got to the airport. He turned his phone on its side, holding it to snap the basement floor in two images, the ground floor in one. Saved and sent to Yami’s phone, glancing around the reception area. Museum closing hour was nine p.m., and if he was locked in here and missed his flight then his parents would kill him. ~~As entertaining and interesting the prospect of spending a night in a dark museum with Yami was.~~

He set off through the next set of doors, following signs posted up leading visitors to the guided tour of the replica tomb. Sighed and dragged his fingers through his bangs, tilting his phone like he’d been taught to after his uncles decided he needed ‘home school orientation classes’. That involved travelling to the outback by Jeep, with his father, his father’s elder brother and his son. Varon had been about ten the first time, his cousin thirteen, and they’d repeated the trip every year since. They, along with Varon’s mother, mother’s sister, husband and two daughters were heading out to Victoria for a fortnight, in which time the guys would go to the outback and leave the women to soak up the sun and drink chick drinks.

But his uncle had always had too many beers by the time they got to walking anywhere, and Varon’s father tended to follow suit, which left them with wonky directions and had them spending many hours map tilting to try and find their way back. Somewhere along the lines, Varon had picked up the basic skills required ~~these he learned clutching a can of Fosters; maybe the alcohol was good for orientation after all~~ and was free to go motorcycling around on his own.

Now, he was applying his ‘mad map skillz’ to a low-light picture in his mobile phone, in a dark museum nearing closing time, plane tickets burning a hole in his jacket pocket and Yami lost in a maze. He came to the tomb soon enough, though, and stepped inside. The walls illuminated with a blue tinge from the phone’s screen, Varon clicking a button every so often to keep the backlight on.

“Yami?” Wasn’t at the middle yet, but Yami could’ve moved quickly. Unlikely, but he could hope his voice would travel far enough, “Where the hell are you?” All the while hoping the guards didn’t decide to shut the museum early, or do so on time, trapping them in the museum for taking too long to find their way out. ~~Bloody idiot.~~

In retrospect, Yami could see that it might've been a bit cleverer to ask Varon to trace on the map the quickest route out -- from the first snapshot, the one that showed the area he was in now, he couldn't see where any of the paths he could take ended, only which direction they were going when they disappeared off-screen. He could guess at where they aligned with the passages in the next snapshot, and how they eventually came up to the surface, but with so many dead ends....

He'd just have to have a bit of luck, then, and work quickly. Wouldn't be the first time, wouldn't be the last.

The path that led straight out from the room resolved in a dead end, or at least he guessed that, from the arrangement. Thought he'd gone that way once before, wound up drifting through a room full of pillars. There'd been a path out that led down a tiny corridor and then upwards towards the surface, perhaps? Cut off by artificial rubble except for a narrow opening near the top, but he hadn't been trying to get out before; maybe he could climb through?

Maybe that wasn't the same place at all. The map wasn't drawn detailed, just marked in small rectangles with labels, and they were impossible to read from the image Varon had gotten.

The path going out to the left of the room split off into two a few yards down the corridor, one veering off into a long, narrow hallway with chambers branching off from it, and the other splitting up into smaller hallways that both resolved into.... Yami squinted and tried to make out just a little of the writing, enough to tell if that was the space the royal sarcophagi had been in or not.

If it was, then he'd have a long trip - always put the prize deep in the heart of a maze, not anywhere easily accessable - but it was guaranteed there was a way out. Any other route could well end in nothing again, after a point, but that one would have to reach the surface eventually, somehow.

Mhm. Yami stood in the doorway a moment, considering his options, then nodded and took the passage to the left. They were running out of time, and a guarantee wasn't worth very much if it meant he'd have to run the full circuit of the tour, and wasn't that usually the way things worked?

He sucked in a slow breath and held it, jaw clenched; splitting the cuts open stung vividly for a moment, and digging fingers in, pulling them away sticky and wet, felt about as clever and pleasant as deciding that he'd beat his fists blood on freshly salted asphalt next time, but then it was done.

Ached, but he bit down a little harder, and made a small, firm mark on the wall. One arrow, first one, and surely it wouldn't be too many more before he was out.

Varon had never been scared of the dark. Rather, he’d sat up some nights eagerly trying to coax monsters out from under his bed or out of the closet, jumping and rushing over to his bedroom door whenever the breeze from the open window caused it to open. Look on both sides, stick his hands in the shadows, feel around, and return, dismayed, to bed. Got books on ghost stories from the library and went on mini-expeditions of his own to try and find ghosts. He found a book in his grandfather’s basement, once. His mother’s father, less religious than his father’s father. Dead now, three years last March. Lung cancer - one good reason Varon didn’t take up smoking.

But, in his basement. He collected books and books and more books, on just about every subject imaginable. Picture books until the kids and grandkids could read - four of them; Varon, his mother’s sister’s two daughters and his mother’s brother’s daughter, but he was out in Brisbane and rarely in Melbourne - and a box sealed on top of a shelf where they couldn’t reach. Varon, however, was not one to be deterred, and persuaded his cousin - guy cousin, from his father’s brother - to come along one day and lift Varon up on his shoulders. Together, they got the box down and tore the dusty strip off duct tape off. Books on the paranormal, about twenty of them.

Varon’s grandfather had came down to check on them, and sighed, waving a hand and declaring that it was all Varon’s own fault if he had nightmares. Varon didn’t have nightmares, but Varon did stay up all night reading through the books, a heavy dictionary by his side to look up words his ten year old vocabulary didn’t cover. ~~Then spent even longer looking up most of those words in Japanese.~~

He kept them all under his bed and dragged Derry out to any place that looked more than fifty years old, any place he could get details from his parents about. Went to graveyards, even sneaked out one night when he was thirteen, sat by his great aunt’s gravestone and read the books by torch light. He had went out armed with his father’s camera, chocolate, flashlight, book, notepad and pen. He’d gone in November, when it was still warm in Australia.

The night had been cool - he had a jacket, though, with the chocolate, notepad and pen tucked into various pockets. He left the house at one o’clock in the morning, and some time past two o’clock police sirens sped past, but Varon paid no attention. Could have sworn he felt fingertips on his cheek, voices in the rustling of the trees, snapped photographs every so often. Then he heard a band of merry drunks he knew from the high school coming from the other end of the graveyard. Seven of them, and Varon had beaten up three of their little brothers.

They saw him, of course, and started yelling and tossing empty beer cans. He snatched up his stuff and bolted from the graveyard, running along the street and right into two women from his street.

They collared him, yelled at him, grabbed an arm each and dragged him back to his house, where a police car sat with the light whirling and throwing vivid blue light on the terrified face of Varon’s mother. She grabbed him and held onto him and shrieked, let the police reprimand him, watched the neighbours filter away back into their houses. Got bellowed at from his father and grounded for two months. He got his uncle to develop the photographs, though, and he had them under his bed; captures of silvery round orbs wafting past gravestones.

So this tomb was … reminiscent, in a way. Glanced in every room and got a little shot of adrenaline every time one of the small safety lights shone on something gold inside. The map was hard to follow, even when he tilted it towards the lights. Tried reading signs with the backlight following each word, gawped momentarily at spikes in the walls, wondered vaguely how that would look, someone stuck in those. ~~He could think of a few people he’d like to use as guinea pigs, so that was a start.~~ Then looked down at the map again and swore when he realised he’d taken a wrong turn somewhere and ended up of course. He angled the phone, trying to peer at the two-words-per-pixel image, failing miserably.

Then he tripped over a loose boulder from one of the traps, landing on his side with a thud and yelling a stream of curses in English. Hauled himself back up and prodded his side, winced. He might get a bit of a bruise, but, “Yami!” Fuck being quiet now. “Where the hell are you?!”

Yami had made decent progress, if somewhat unsteady - rushing here to make up for pauses to grimace and mark another turn there - he'd looped back once, found himself in a long room with pillars supporting it, and ducked through what had seemed like a short cut at the time. Must've been disoriented in the dark. But he'd seen one of his own marks, still wet, soon after, and managed to get back to the place he'd lost himself after a short run.

Good, yes, he was doing well, already well into the second piece of the map - which, come to think of it, should mean he'd run into Varon soon; where was he? But it wasn't important. Perhaps Varon worked more slowly in the dark. Yami was into gametime, making decisions with a quick glance at the map, then rushing ahead to the next mark, no time ot stop and stare or question what he was doing.

Seventh sense, anyway; games had never been difficult for him. He'd always shelved the question as instinct and gone on, a knack he had, or maybe just wanting to win badly enough that it happened. Like Egypt. He didn't have the money, but if he wanted it badly enough - cringed as he smeared some more blood on the wall; the pain had faded from sharp stinging to a quiet burn, but the cuts were starting to dry and crack - then he would get it.

Somehow. It didn't matter; he took a moment more to cringe, then took off at a run again down the next corridor. What mattered now was getting out of this maze. He was close now, because the rooms had started to become less familiar, must've been ones he'd only passed by once or twice on the way in, and -

Muffled English cursing and howling of Yami's name tended to be a very clear indication that a Varon was within the vicinity, but it sounded like it'd come from behind him. Echoes could play tricks, particularly underground, but... He hesitated, checked the map. If he was reading it correctly (and he wouldn't bother questioning that), then there was just two more turns, then the ground would start to slope up again and he'd be back to the ground floor, which meant only ten or fifteen minutes more in the maze.

The mobile claimed he had a little over twenty until nine. Well then. A moment's pause, weighing odds, and Yami left the wall unmarked and doubled back. Escaping from the maze would be rather pointless if he'd left Kitten somewhere in the middle, after all.

Where the fuck was he? Varon hated mazes, hated them with a passion. Open roads, yes. Let them twist and turn and his knee inches from tarmac as he took a turn, but not a maze. Not one when he had somewhere to be. Too time consuming, always pissed him off in video games. Hated the library back home; couldn’t find his way out through the books and stands.

He put his hand on a wall, shoved his other hand in his pocket to drop the phone in … swore and glanced behind him. He hadn’t dropped anything behind him to mark his path. Idiot. Bloody idiot. Yami was an idiot, too, more so than Varon because Yami was the first to wander in here. Snarled and let his forehead meet the wall, yanking back when his forehead touched something wet.

…"Yami." Blood, blood smeared on the wall and how the hell did you get blood on a wall in a replica tomb and oh God. Spun around and looked up and down the corridors and shitohshitohshit. “Yami, you stupid bastard, where the hell are you?”

People would die; if they’d hurt Yami they wouldn’t be out alive. Smear their blood on the walls, punch them hard enough they tumbled back and their heads cracked against the wall. Leave a splatter of blood, and maybe bits of skull and hair and brains if they fell hard enough. How hard would that need to be? He could certainly find out. Would also like to see that neat bone-bursting-through-skin-and-bleeding-gushes thing again.

In fact, he could carry out lots of - footsteps. To his left, the way he’d came. He pushed up the sleeves on his jacket and turned, facing that way. Bastard. If it was a guard, easy. Get him to show Varon the way around this fucking thing, find Yami, find that bastard, maybe plural, those bastards. Get Yami out and make sure he was ok. And if it was one of the bastards, or the singular bastard? Beat the living shit out of him.

Yami skidded to a sharp halt before rounding the corner; cursing again, much closer, this time more snarling and Kitten didn't sound pleased, no. Well, obviously he wouldn't be, if he'd gone the wrong way and wound up deeper in the maze than Yami had been, but he sounded too upset for that. Much. Might have been amusing in another context, but Yami was more concerned now with just what had happened to him.

...Was there anyone else in the maze? That hadn't occurred to Yami, but what on earth would someone else be doing in there? ~~Moreover, what would they be doing in the maze hurting Varon? That didn't process properly.~~ He didn't sound hurt, but Yami couldn't know what would be around that corner, if he was hurt who'd done it, who needed to be -

He shelved his concern. Get out of the maze first, as they were now well out of time for pausing to chat and compare notes, then sort the rest, on the surface, heading out of the museum before Kitten missed his flight entirely. Because however appealing the idea was, Kitten needed to go home, Yami needed to go home, and even if staying lost in here forever was a good bit more attractive than sending Varon off, it wasn't an option. Which meant they had fifteen minutes to get out of this maze.

He turned the corner; "I'm right here."

Opened his mouth to snarl at whoever was around the corner, lifted his fist and waited to pounce. Jumped back and “You.” Yami, alive, well, walking, alone. Yami. No assailants, no murderers, no guards, no one but Yami. Heaved a sigh of relief, then stepped forward and grabbed Yami’s shoulders, scanned him quickly. His hand. The bandages had vanished and the hand itself was bloody.

… Idiot. Bloody idiot. But this was better than the alternative, better than someone else having hurt Yami and smeared his blood on the walls. Just Yami, being an idiot, opening up the cuts. Varon should have taken him to the hospital. Even if they had the supplies, Varon wouldn’t even consider doing stitches himself. Just had to make do with plucking out bloody little pieces of glass and wrapping in bandages, repeatedly.

Felt a little twinge and realised he only had a few hours before he left, only a few more hours to see and touch Yami. He could speak to him, yes, could see his face in his icons, but that was different to having him there in the flesh, where Varon could just reach out and touch him. Loosened his grip, hands just resting on Yami’s shoulders now, and looked quickly at Yami’s face - not like it wasn’t imprinted on his memory, but still. ~~That, and Yami naked in the bathtub. Both imprinted on his memory, and he wasn’t going to be forgetting the bathtub any time soon.~~

But at the same time, he had a flight to catch. Soon, by now. “We need to get out of here, and pretty damn soon.” ~~He was twitchier now, afraid someone might come barrelling around the corner and Yami’d be gone again.~~ “And see if someone can see to your hand at the airport.” Moved to drape his arm around Yami’s shoulders instead, “And what the fuck did you do to your hand? And it is your blood on the wall, isn’t it?”

And they went skipping off to the museum, Varon gave Yami the money he needed for Egypt and went home, ~~without an ilu from Yami, who is emotionally incompetent~~.