Dances of Seduction
By: Ruriko L. Minamino

Disclaimer:
The Yu-Gi-Oh characters in this fan fiction belong entirely to the great manga/anime creator who came up with the idea. Though the show is entirely too full of friendship drabble right now, I love the characters in general and am therefore borrowing them for this story. I don't claim ownership at all.

Chapter Warnings:
AU, Language, Threesome, Yaoi, Bi, Lemon, (minor) D/s, HJ,

Pairings:
YYxYBxYM, SxJ

Author's Notes:
1. I myself don't know what to make of this chapter because it just popped in on the spur of the moment. I had the original idea in mind for a while, but the bathroom… Well, now you know how strange I can get. It's not really that descriptive, in my opinion, but… Well, you can just let me know what you think.
2. I changed a name in the previous chapters to make this one less confusing – at the urgings of a friend. See if you can look back and spot what it was that I corrected.
3. A new character comes out to play, everyone. Poor humiliated Joey! Poor verbally-abused Tristan!

As always, reviews are much loved.

Calm down. Nothing dangerous happening here yet. So let's all relax and join Marik on his ride, yes?

Track 7: 100 Ways

A nice long sunset drive downtown usually calmed him down. He had loved the feeling of the wind rushing across his bare shoulders and flimsily clothed chest as he sped down the roads back in Alexandria, Egypt. The air was colder here in Japan, but it still felt good. He allowed his eyes to droop as he made a smooth turn at a corner.

'Just four hours until I have to go meet that bastard,' Marik thought to himself, frowning beneath his black-and-purple helmet. He really needed the time to cool off. He'd been terrible to his siblings all day: yelling at Isis; pushing Malik around – he couldn't help it. When he was angry, his basic instincts just took over. He had to cause some pain, he had to inflict minor physical injury, or else… 'I need something to calm me down now – or I don't know how many people will get hurt!'

He had been born this way. Everywhere he went, he left a trail of blood. When he had been a toddler, it had been the mice in the alleyways near his house. Then, it had been the pets his godfather had bought for him and Isis. It had continued that way when Malik had been born. The older Ishtar boy had always managed to end the lives of the small living things he touched. The pets stopped coming when Marik turned seven. Then, the real trouble started. He fell in love – with knives. He thought them to be pretty things. There had been a burglary attempt at their house. In one rush, he had found and neatly cut a grown man's jugular vein in two. His one true talent had become painfully clear. No psychiatrist or psychologist could explain it. Marik had been born with the innate talent – power – to kill.

'And then Keith found out about me,' the blond assassin thought grimly, 'when I was too naïve to understand the consequences…'

He pushed his bike to the limit, intending to drive out of the city and into the countryside until midnight arrived. Keith could stand waiting for an extra half hour. The bastard deserved to be kept waiting. Marik was lusting for bloodshed, and he didn't intend on satisfying that urge just then.

A familiar green sedan suddenly caught Marik's eye. An even more familiar blonde figure started waving at him.

"Hey, Marik!" It was Mai, one of the girls he'd become friends with a few weeks ago. "Get over here and give us a hand."

The curvy young woman was standing on the sidewalk beside the sedan and there was a bit of soot on her left cheek. She was frowning irritably at the butt of someone leaning over into the hood.

Forcing a smirk onto his face, Marik slowed down and parked his bike a few meters behind the green vehicle. "Hey there, sexy! What's the matter here?"

"Cheapskate here has a broken-down car, that's what!" Mai said, slapping her none-too-mechanical companion on the ass.

Tristan's head popped up from where it had been leaning in the car with a yelp. "MAI! Oh, Marik, hey there!"

The muscle-bound Egyptian leaned over the engine for a peek. "This thing's really a piece of junk, Tristan. I bet you could get some good cash for it at a motor museum or something. You shouldn't even be driving it." He'd seen Tristan driving the beaten-up sedan to Strawberry Temptations over and over again, and every time, he and Malik had a good laugh about the brunet's grandfather of a ride.

"It's not like I can afford a new car, you know," Tristan responded with a glare. "Besides, it's fine. Just needs a bit of a push to get started again."

"More than a push," Mai snorted, rolling her eyes. "Tea went to call a tow truck. We're going to be late as it is. And you should just say yes to Yugi loaning you some money to get this old baby fixed up. He's offered about a million times now."

"It's okay. My problem to fix, anyhow. That's why I work, remember?"

Marik's cellular suddenly started beeping. There was a text message from an unregistered number. 'Call me,' it read. Marik hit the call button. Even before he could speak, an unwelcome and unwanted voice answered the line.

"Change in plans," Keith said in Arabic. "The boss wants me to check out something tonight, so we can't meet. Too bad, huh?"

Marik growled, gripping the unit tightly in his hand. "Fuck off," he responded in the same tongue. "Just – just let me know when you want to see me. I'll have your hit-list finished by the end of next month." He hung up and shoved his phone into his pants pocket.

"Problem?" Mai asked, taking in the Egyptian's stormy face.

"Where are you all going?" Marik quickly changed the topic. If he kept on talking, maybe – just maybe – he would be able to cool down enough for his bloodlust to recede. He might have been spared the sight of the weasel for the night, but he was still furious. He eyed the casual clothes Mai and Tristan were both clad in: comfortable sweaters, shirts, and denim – not their usual clubbing gear.

"Airport," the brunet replied. "Seto told us all to head over there."

Marik blinked. "What for? Is he leaving or something?" That would actually be good. Yami's best friend made him uneasy sometimes.

Mai turned around and made a gesture with her finger. "There's Tea! Looks like she wasn't lucky." She cupped her hands around her mouth and hollered across the street. "Tea! Get over here!"

"Sorry I took so long," the smiling girl apologized, jogging over. "I couldn't find a tow truck. Oh, good evening, Marik." She eyed him up and down, a concerned frown on her face. "You're going to get sick if you walk around with just that shirt on."

Marik blinked in confusion before looking down at himself. He was still a bit distracted. "Huh? Oh, I always do this when I want to go riding. I can take care of myself." He wondered what Tea's worry was. A sleeveless shirt was always good for a night out when he just wanted to clear his head.

"You have a jacket on your bike, don't you?" the brunette persisted, pointing at Marik's motorcycle. "You're going to freeze to death in an hour or two!"

"I'm fine," Marik reasserted, patience starting to wear thin. Tea was acting like Isis in mother-hen mode. He had to keep calm or he'd hurt the girl. He slipped past her and leaned over into Tristan's sedan. With one resounding bang, he slammed the palm of his hand on the engine. The van coughed back to life.

"How the hell did you do that?" the sedan's owner exclaimed. "I've been trying to figure out what was wrong for ages!"

"I knew someone who had a car like that back home," Marik muttered in reply. He turned away and started to head back for his bike. "See you!"

Tristan's hand grabbed hold of his shoulder. "Hey, wait up there, pal. Why don't you just head over with us to the airport? You look like some company would do you good."

"And since when does my wellbeing become your concern?" the Egyptian smirked, raising an eyebrow.

"Since you became our friend," Tea chirped. When Marik just blinked, she elaborated. "You're new here, so you don't understand, do you? Anyone Yami and Yugi call their friends, the rest of us are friends with too."

"That's how me and Joey ended up in the group," Tristan added. "Yugi caught us fighting in an alleyway back in junior high. Yami met Mai a few years ago. Tea and Seto… The Motou brothers have known them forever!"

"Not forever, Tris'" Mai retorted for the blushing Tea. "Just since they were all babies in diapers."

Tea held out her hand to the amazed blond. "So what do you say? Coming?"

Marik frowned indecisively. Yami wanted him for a friend? Was that the implication? He fucked strangers, not friends. But he had no time to contemplate that now. The very thought of the crimson-eyed man was doing something a road trip around Japan couldn't ever manage. A shiver of pleasure ran up Marik's spine. Add in thoughts of Bakura to the mix and… "I – "

"Yami will be there. And since Yugi told Seto to invite Ryou, so Bakura will most likely show up, too." Tea, apparently, was not against a bit of bribery – the wily vixen.

"All right." At least Marik wasn't craving blood anymore. It was something else he lusted for now.

Five minutes later, he was speeding down the streets right beside Tristan's sedan, headed for the Hitori International Airport, a place Marik hadn't been since he'd first arrive in Domino with his siblings.

"You made it!" Yugi's familiar voice caught Marik's ear just as he and his three companions stepped through the airport's main entrance. The short figure came running right up, a bright smile on his innocent-seeming face. "Oh, and you guys brought Marik, too." He laughed and shook his head. "What took you so long?"

"Hey, jackass!" Malik sauntered over from a magazine counter with Ryou in tow. He slapped his brother on the head with the bag of magazines in his hand. "You left without telling anyone again." The younger Ishtar tossed his brother a beer and Marik just barely caught it.

"Car trouble," Mai was explaining, tilting her head in Tristan's direction slightly.

"Again?" the young Motou frowned at his brunet friend. "Why don't you just let me buy you a new car? Or at least loan you the money. I told you before, Tris'…."

'Yugi's a kind kid,' Marik noted, 'You can really tell him and Yami are related – and not just because of looks.' The thought of the elder Motou again sent a pleasurable shiver up his spine.

"I'm okay, Yug!" Tristan insisted, patting his friend on the shoulder. "We're here, so now you can show us this phenomenon you were going on about on the phone earlier."

Ryou, who was munching on a donut, snickered. "It's sort of hard to believe."

"Huh? What's going on?" the muscle-bound Egyptian had to ask. "I thought we were all just meeting Seto here."

Two warm hands came to rest on his unclothed shoulders. He'd felt the approach earlier on, but sensed there was no danger. The touches were pleasant, sending torrents of heat coursing through his air-cooled skin. Yami and Bakura were standing on either side of him. Even in simple sweaters, jackets, and jeans, they looked absolutely edible. And they were undressing him with their eyes too.

'They still want more, then.' Marik was pleased. It looked like he was going to get a second go with them sooner than expected.

"See the marvel for yourself," Yami said, running his tapered fingers down Marik's arm and folding his arms over his chest. He jerked his head in the direction of a far-off bench.

Marik could just identify Joey's blond head over a far-off bench. And stranding beside him, the hint of excitement on his normally stoic face, was Seto.

'What's got him so cheery?'

"If you looked any happier," Yami chuckled, leading the way over to the brunet CEO, "I think we'd all be running away right now."

Seto just chuckled lowly and turned to look out the glass window panes. It was rare for Yami's best friend to actually show that much excitement. The only people who could get him to smile like that were Joey, Yugi, Mokuba, and Yami himself. 'But Mokuba won't be home until December, so there must be something really important…'

"You'll see soon enough," the CEO said, glancing down at Yami. "I promised I'd introduce you and Yugi especially."

"But just who are we waiting for?" Yami pressed. It was getting frustrating. Looking back at the benches behind him, he could see his brother laughing and chatting with the rest of their friends. His eyes zeroed in on Marik and Bakura, guzzling down beers with Malik near the edge of the group. The lanky albino caught his eye and gave him a suggestive wink. Yami looked away, forcing down the anticipatory smirk on his lips. He shivered slightly.

"I still haven't heard from the agents in London and Alexandria yet," Seto said, his smile suddenly disappearing as he looked the shorter man in the eye. "Don't do anything foolish just yet."

Yami rolled his eyes. "Stop reading too deep into things. I can wait."

"Good thing your upper head works," came the brunet's cocky reply, "but I think there's a slight disagreement with the lower one."

It took an almighty effort for Yami not to just punch the cerulean-eyed man in the gut. Seto had known him for far too long. He could read Yami like an open book. "Bastard."

"I know."

"HEY SETO! Over here!"

Heavy running steps and the sound of trolley wheels came closer and closer to where the pair stood, and suddenly, Seto was enfolded in a rough bear hug. All Yami could see was a heavy jacket and a wealth of sharply-waving onyx hair. The voice had already given the stranger away as a male.

"You presumptuous megalomaniac," Seto chuckled as he returned the friendly embrace and slapped the thinner figure on the back. "You took your father's jet, didn't you?"

"Dude, I needed to make an entrance, you know?" came the drawling American-accented reply.

Yami was just about to walk over and demand a proper introduction, when Joey brushed past him. The blond teen's eyes were narrow as he yanked Seto's companion around with a canine growl. "Who are you?" the honey-eyed man demanded.

That was how Yami got a good look at the foreigner. He was gangly and lean, built somewhat like Bakura, if not thinner. His onyx-colored hair was long so long it was pulled back off his face in a high ponytail. His skin was fair, almost peach-colored and his eyes were bright emerald green outlined lightly with black eyeliner. He had a dice earring in his left ear and a cocky smirk on his lips.

"Is this dude your boyfriend, Seto?" the American drawled, eyeing Joey up and down. He smacked the blond's arm away from him. "He looks like a little lost puppy, if you ask me."

"Why, you!" Joey was seething mad now. It was unfair, but Yami was amused by the entire situation. It was Joey, not Seto, who was the more possessive one in their relationship – and it showed. "Seto, who is this guy?"

"Joey, calm down," Yugi said, grabbing hold of his best friend's left arm. Tristan latched onto the blond's right, just in case.

"The name's Devlin. Duke Devlin," came the Westerner's self-introduction. He rested his hand on his hip arrogantly and looked around. "So, you're all this wisecrack's friends?" He gestured at Seto, his smirk widening. His eyes landed on Tristan and he snorted. "They all look okay, Seto, but your boyfriend and the horse-head there – they seriously need a fashion consultant."

'Why does that name sound familiar?' Yami wondered. 'Devlin… I've heard it before.'

"Okay, that's going too far, you!" It was Tristan's turn to get upset. "I don't know or care just who you are, but you can't just go around calling people names like that." He roughly grabbed the insulting newcomer by the collar.

"I can't believe you're laughing!" Joey jabbed a finger in his boyfriend's chest. True enough, once the insults had flown from Duke's lips, the brunet had quietly began to chuckle.

"Hey, cool it, guys!" Ryou, Tea, and Mai started to step in. "We're in an airport."

"Let go, pup," Seto continued chuckling quietly as he carefully pried Joey's fingers off his starched collar. "He's really just like that. Not even a 14-hour flight can wear out his tongue. And Tristan, you really don't want to do that to him."

"Why – " Tristan started to ask, when two hulking shadows loomed over his shoulder. He looked up to find two slick-haired, dark-suited men staring down at him with ominous black sunglasses.

"Put Mr. Devlin down, punk," one of the brick wall-like men intoned in a deep voice.

Tristan had no choice. His grip on Duke's shirtfront slipped and the smirking Japanese-American dusted off his clothes. "This shirt is worth more than your parents can hope to make in a month, pony-boy, so I wouldn't try something that stupid again – ever."

Malik whistled. "That makes three big-shots in one airport. Where'd the paparazzi go?"

'No wonder Seto was excited to see this guy. He's got one hell of a poisonous tongue.' Yami was just about to applaud Seto's cocky friend when warm, slightly alcohol-laced breath blew into his ear.

"Hey, let's get out of here," Bakura's devilish whisper said. "Marik said he saw a place where we can be alone for a while." A hand lightly brushed the back of Yami's ear and he shivered pleasurably. "What do you say?"

"Let's go."

Yami zipped up the front of his jacket and pulled the hood over his head. Not being recognized as the eldest grandson of Solomon Motou was the important thing here. After that, it wasn't all that hard to slip away from Yugi, Seto, and the rest. Duke's arrival had caused quite a stir already and with the fuss Joey and Tristan had made, people were beginning to stare. No one bothered glance at the two figures walking rapidly towards the rest room.

"Marik went in here?' the crimson-eyed heir's heartbeat was speeding up and adrenalin coursed in gallons through his body. He quickly squeezed Bakura's ass just before they went in. He'd been sixteen the last time he'd fooled around in a restroom. When a familiar calloused tan hand reached out to pull Yami inside, he smiled in anticipation. 'This is going to be fun.'

The bronzed Egyptian leaned on a counter, toying with a plastic sign in one hand. "Looks like you both decided to show." Marik pulled Yami to his chest and plunged in for a heated kiss. "Now that we're all here," he regarded Bakura with hazy eyes and gave Yami a wink, "what do we do with that beautiful white statue over there?" Suddenly, he was standing right behind the albino, firmly securing his wrists behind his back.

"I don't know," Yami purred, cupping Bakura's chin in his hand and stroking the soft flesh of his cheek. "What did you have in mind?"

"Keh!" Bakura tried to struggle out of their grasp. "You won't get anything out of me."

Marik leaned down and started to nuzzle the pale one's throat. "You'll be singing a different tune in a minute or two."

Suddenly, Bakura was pinned to the wall, and his sweater was on the ground at his feet. Yami was rapidly unbuttoning his shirt and at the same time nuzzling at the milky-white flesh coming into view. Marik was taking his sweet time torturing the captive's long, slender neck, delighted with the pinkish tinge that was quickly rising to the surface of his skin.

"W-wait… Ah!" Bakura panted. "Door… Someone…. Catch us…."

Marik chuckled and just shoved his tongue roughly into Bakura's mouth. Yami was zeroing in on his breaking point. Just watching was not doing his libido very good. He got down on his knees and was just about to pull down the English delight's zipper when he thought better of it. 'Just why did I have to be born with expectations hanging over my head?'

"Bakura's right…" Yami looked up at Marik and waggled his eyebrows. "As much fun as it would be with the possibility of getting caught, we can't afford to be seen – I can't afford to be seen."

"Got anything to fix that?" Bakura panted once Marik let go of his arms. He sank down to the floor in front of Yami and raised an eyebrow at the blond standing above them.

Marik smacked himself on the head. "Almost forgot. You two can be pretty distracting." He eyed the pair on the floor, undressing them with his eyes even as he retrieved the placard he'd let drop to the ground. He held up a sign that read "CLOSED FOR MAINTENANCE". With a wink, he went to the door and quickly slapped the sign outside. And was immediately pulled backwards onto the floor.

"Happy now?" he asked his two companions.

"Now we can continue," Yami purred, his voice low and sultry. He ground his hips against Marik's and the blond arched up. Bakura fisted his hands in the tall blond's hair and roughly assaulted his mouth.

"We've got at least fifteen minutes before someone notices the sign's not supposed to be outside," Bakura whispered against the Egyptian's lips. Before he could react, he was suddenly flipped over and Marik braced himself over the albino's torso.

"More than enough time," came the wicked reply. "Yami, help me strip him."

The crimson-eyed Campus King laughed throatily and simply ripped the remaining buttons on Bakura's shirt loose. "With pleasure."

Rest rooms exist for the purpose of relieving oneself, so no one could argue that what they were doing was wrong. Hard as iron rods already, they writhed in a pile on the ground, their clothes only half-hanging off their forms. Yami's hands were greedily exploring Bakura's chest as he did battle with the paler man's tongue. Marik was right behind him and he could feel those roughened hands urgently pulling down his jeans, the callous finger dipping into his brief and barely brushing the center of his butt cheeks. He arched his ass up with a moan.

"Don't you fucking stop!" Bakura growled under him, yanking Yami's head onto his chest.

Yami savagely nipped on the impatient Brit's nipple. "Oh, I haven't even begun to fuck you yet." He kissed and sucked his way down Bakura's chest and abdomen, pausing to lick and blow warm breath into the alabaster-skinned man's navel. He traced the contours of his ribs. Why hadn't he noticed how skinny Bakura was before? "Christ, you're thin." Before a protest could be voiced out, he yanked down the other man's pants and slid his hand into the soft green boxers beneath. "But I like you that way – oh, God!"

Even as Bakura arched up into the touch and grabbed onto Yami's arms, something large and pulsating shoved its way into the tri-color-haired man's ass. Yami hadn't been aware that his briefs had been shoved down at all. Marik was beyond huge and the sensation of having him in his mouth was nothing compared to what he was experiencing now. It was a miracle he wasn't being torn to bits; instead, his muscles were adjusting, tensing and relaxing, trying to pull Marik further in. His throat dry, he tried to focus on Bakura, even as the larger man behind him started to shift. Yami hurriedly yanked down Bakura's boxers and held out his shaking finger for the Brit to suck. With Marik's teasing miniscule movements, he was almost incapable of moving already. His senses were inexplicably heightened, and when the English youth wrapped his tongue around Yami's two fingers, he felt like he was going to explode. With practiced hands, he spread Bakura's butt cheeks and inserted his coated fingers, moving in and out with rapid scissor-like movements. Behind Yami, Marik had started to move in earnest.

"Just…" Bakura panted out harshly, "… Just take me already, damn it!"

It wasn't a submissive request. It was more of a command. Yami smirked and fully slid out his fingers. "Your wish is my command." He rammed in. Bakura gasped.

"Now for the real fun," Marik whispered huskily.

With one truck-powerful thrust, he found his mark and elicited a groan of pleasure from the exotic-haired man. Yami could not help but thrust down forcefully into Bakura and initiate a chain reaction. The albino wrapped his legs around Yami's torso and the wine-eyed man thrust forward and down into the pale man's entrance again. Marik continued to ram into him from behind.

Grunts and moans filled the air. Bakura's nails desperately tried to dig into the tiles as he ground himself shamelessly against Yami's body. Marik continued to widen and stretch his entrance with a friction intense enough to start a fire. The flow of blood down into the game industry heir's dick was like the rush of a river. With the pressure of Bakura's muscles squeezing in on him from all around, he could feel it. He was close.

Marik's words only heightened his arousal, brought him almost to his peak. "If I hadn't seen you the other night, I'd say you're still a virgin. By the gods, you're fuckable!"

In response, Yami bucked up right into him and grabbed Bakura by the waist, effectively toppling them all backwards. Marik latched on the sink counter and took hold of Yami's shoulder to steady himself. He and Yami maneuvered around and Bakura ended up sitting on the marble counter.

"That's going to leave a mark on the tiles," Yami panted, thrusting into the albino again. "Beautiful."

The sink was a bit wet, and there was a squelching noise every time Yami rammed in. Bakura bucked up in time to the thrusts and Yami was starting to feel a burning sensation in his lower regions. He took hold of his mahogany-eyed lover's penis and started to pump, faster, slower, at an erratic pace. He was going to come. He knew that behind him, Marik couldn't hold out much longer either. Something inside him wanted to make sure Bakura climaxed along with them. With skilled hands, he squeezed and pulled lightly, trailed with his fingers. At the same time, he synchronized himself with the blond Egyptian. He finally found Bakura's prostate and everything exploded into completion.

Milky white semen came spraying out onto Yami's bared chest. He bit back a scream as Marik's seed filled his entrance. He saw nothing but white light – he climaxed and spilled himself into Bakura. Nothing in the whole world could compare.

I loved you and yet, you used me. Now, this is your punishment. No one makes a fool of –

The scathing words cracked like a whip in Yami's ears, just as if he himself had yelled them out. He froze in the act of leaning his head on Bakura's shoulder. White-hot rage boiled in his veins, but he stood rooted to the spot. 'What was that all about?'

Bakura's legs were slowly sliding off his waist. Marik's hand relaxed and started to drop from his shoulders.

The room was completely silent.

Yami was almost afraid to look at them. His heart thudded loudly in his chest as he shakily grabbed some tissue and wiped at his chest and abdomen.

"So, wasn't that great?" Marik's voice echoed in the room after a few minutes. Yami still didn't look, but he could tell that the Egyptian blond hadn't moved that far away. Also, Yami could detect a hint of confusion in his voice. And it was like he was suppressing something. Like he was only talking to break the painful silence.

From his spot on the counter, Bakura's voice was three times louder in the calm. "It was fine…" There was something preoccupied in his tone. Yami watched those pale legs sliding down and brush past him with barely a whisper. "Good… Great… Yeah…"

'Looks like something got into all of us,' Yami thought to himself, shivering slightly. The strange anger was gone now, but in its wake, it had left complete confusion. He braved a look up at Bakura and Marik and everything seemed to spin. "What – "

The door of the bathroom creaked open and a smirking face popped in. "Knew it!"

Duke sauntered into the room with that cocky expression on his face, appreciatively taking in the sight of the semi-clothed trio. He whistled and pulled out his phone. "Found the rabbits!"

At the sight of Seto's emerald-eyed fried, a tingle shot up Yami's spine. "How did you know we were in here?" he asked, steadying himself by leaning on the sink counter.

The confident new arrival snickered. "I do this kind of thing all the time back home. But the sign – who's idea was that?" He raised an eyebrow at Marik, who was adjusting his belt by the mirrors. "Dudes, whoever did it, you're a genius." He raised his hand in a thumbs-up and winked.

Somehow, Duke's mischievous comment did what none of the three other men could. He brought the life back into the room. Soon, all of them were laughing gaily and leaning on the walls to support themselves.

"Yeah, I am a genius, aren't I?" Marik boasted, grabbing Yami and Bakura by the waists and leering down at them possessively.

Bakura jabbed him in the rib and attempted to get his sweater back on, wincing when he discovered that it was already half-soaked. "Big-headed bastard!"

"Which head?" Yami quipped, sending all of them into rounds of laughter all over again. It was good, Yami felt, to be able to laugh after that strangeness. He bent down to adjust the hem of his pants. 'Everything's back in focus,' he realized.

The bathroom door clicked open again. An annoyed Seto came into view, running a hand through his hair. It was becoming a habit. "The least that you could have done was helped me get out of trouble with the pup, Yami."

"Oops?" Yami smiled sheepishly and disentangled himself from Marik's grasp. With the five of them in there, he started to feel a more pronounced tingling sensation running up and down his spine. It was like there was something complete, or at least significant about the little gathering. He just couldn't put his finger on what it was.

"Hey, he was busy," Duke cut in, snickering at the scene. "You should have seen them earlier, Seto. Clothes all over the place. Didn't even use one of the stalls."

The CEO just groaned. "I guessed as much." He shot a glare in Bakura and Marik's direction. "You're done, right? We'd better get going. It's late, Malik's ready to tear this place apart, Tea's frantic, and Joey is acting up."

Yami could almost pity his friend, but catching sight of Bakura's reflection in the mirror – the exposed milky-ness of his torso – he lost it. He grabbed the albino by the shoulders and proceeded to ravage his mouth. He felt the rough hands yanking his head up by the hairs and the peppermint in Marik's breath assaulted his senses.

The Campus Game King barely heard his best friend's groan of annoyance.

"That, Duke, is the reason I was glad you came. Someone has to help me tie them down – fast!"

'Oh, yeah… I could get used to this,' Bakura's eyes narrowed in contentment as he leaned into the warmth surrounding him on either side. Almost-lazy late-afternoon sex, a quick change into clubbing clothes at home, then lounge time in a private room at one of the hottest clubs in the city. What could be better? When he'd first taken the job at Strawberry Temptations as a bartender, he'd only wanted to do it so he could wile away his spare time. But since meeting Yami and Marik, things had gotten quite interesting. 'A VIP room. Who'd have thought? Guess fucking with a rich guy does have its benefits after all… aside from the sex itself.' Bakura smirked as he shifted slightly to lean his head on Marik's shoulder. His ass was still sore from what Yami had done to him. But then, thinking back, the wine-eyed man was most likely in a worse condition.

What exactly was Bakura doing lazing around on a working night? It just so happened that Seto had talked Yami into helping him show Duke around, and of course, the first suggestion to pop out of the Kame Games heir was night out clubbing. Right on Bakura's day off. And on a night when the Ishtar brothers had declined Mr. Otogi's request that they put on a performance, too. As for the rest of the gang, Mai had found an ally in Malik and the two of them had dragged Yugi, Ryou, and Tea out onto the dance floor. Tristan was working – as usual – and Seto was trying to deal with a very waspish Joey. The cocky Duke Devlin was amusing himself by chatting with Yami and staring down at the other club-goers below. For some inexplicable reason, being in the same room with Yami, Marik, Seto, and Duke at the same time was causing a funny tingle to run up his spine.

"So what exactly is DDM?" Yami was asking, guzzling down the last of his Miami Vice. When the rest of the group had been there, Duke had mentioned it.

"And just how do you and Seto really know each other?" Joey added, narrowing his eyes at the raven-haired American.

Duke yawned and waved his hand in the air. "I do some work at my dad's company, Pinnacle Gambles Inc. Software creation, and whatever else shit. DDM is a game I came up with half a year ago, meaning Dungeon Dice Monsters. Gotta love dice games! Dad's cronies – experts, they call themselves – said it was cool enough, and they're working on the marketing scheme for it right now. It should be out in a month or two. That's where Seto comes in," he jerked his hand at the preoccupied brunet and looked at Joey pointedly. "Dad wanted a partnership with the Kaiba Corporation to make a PC version of the game and Mr. Big-Shot here went to the States himself three months ago to check it out. He and I got to know each other at a board meeting. We've been keeping in touch ever since."

Yami nodded approvingly. "That explains why your surname sounded so familiar. My grandfather has some contracts ongoing with your dad's company."

Seto ruffled Joey's hair fondly. "Duke's just a very good friend – even if he's worse than wonder-boy over there." He jerked a thumb in Yami's direction. The tri-color-haired man just snorted.

"Really?" Joey asked, still not very convinced.

The CEO tilted his chin up for a kiss. "Really."

'Mush-fest!' Bakura turned away and rolled his eyes. He hated that sentimentalist crap.

Yami was snickering. "You haven't been here a day yet, Duke, and you've managed to cause quite a stir already."

"Part of my charm," the dice-addict said with a wink.

"I just made a fool of myself, didn't I?" Joey smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. Seto just enfolded him in a hug and trailed kisses down his nose.

"Yes, you di – " The brunet suddenly froze over and peered closely out the window. "Marik, is your sister into clubbing?"

"Isis?" The platinum-blond dancer half-stood and pressed his face to the glass. "Where? I can't see her anywhere."

Seto relaxed. "I must have been seeing things. I could have sworn she was down there, looking directly at our window…"

"Fat chance of that," Marik snorted, settling himself back down and pulling both Yami and Bakura into his lap. "This is the last place on earth you'd find my sister. She wouldn't even come in here to use the toilet."

Joey got up and edged out of the booth. "Speakin' of toilets, I gotta go find one. I'll be back in a bit... Moneybags." He swaggered on out of the room, pausing by the door to give his boyfriend a sultry gaze.

Seto was immediately up and out the door after him.

"They should be gone for a while," Yami remarked with a smirk. "Moneybags is what Joey used to call Seto when they were still at each other's throats. Now, though… I predict it's another kind of fight they're starting."

"You three put the idea in their heads with your stunt earlier," Duke snickered.

The four companions burst out laughing.

'Two down, one to go.' Bakura was exulting inside his head. If Duke left…

A hand suddenly slid its way onto the Brit's lap and he felt someone slowly edging off his left shoe. Quick glances to his left and right confirmed his suspicions: just like him, Yami and Marik hadn't had enough yet.

The English thief frowned lightly, remembering the strange yelling in his head earlier. 'Some crazy voice screaming about revenge and false love. What the bloody hell have I been watching lately?' He didn't believe in love, at any rate, so why was his brain replaying words that sounded like they came straight out of a Spanish tele-novella?

There was a knock on the half-ajar door. Tristan's head popped in.

"Hey guys! Just wanted to check if you were all doin' okay in here. I saw Seto and Joey slip into the bathroom down the hall." The pointy-haired brunet smiled uneasily. "Guess you already knew that, huh?"

"Duh!" Duke snorted arrogantly. "They were in here with us. And just what do you call that thing you're wearing? You have no fashion-sense, pony-boy."

Tristan was clad in a plain white T-shirt with a blue vest on top. At the insult, he turned bright red. "And what is that supposed to mean? Look at yourself, dice-whore! All dressed up in those fancy leather clothes of yours – bet you dance like a chimpanzee!"

Bakura stifled a snort of his own. Tristan was one to talk. He wasn't that great a dancer. But, too late. Duke had gotten to his feet and jabbed the tall brunet on the chest.

"On the dance floor, horse-brain. Let's just see who's the monkey here." With a sneer, he pushed Tristan out the door and paused to give the room's remaining three occupants a confident smirk. "See you later, dudes. I gotta go teach that jackass a lesson."

No sooner had the last lock of raven hair disappeared and the door slammed shut, than Bakura found himself sprawled next to Yami on the table. The glasses were shoved to the side.

Marik braced himself over them, his eyed completely clouded over with lust. "I though they'd never leave."

Bakura hissed and pulled the blond's head down. "Just shut up and fuck!"

The Pharaoh looked down at the pale raven-haired slave trying in vain to get some reaction out of him. No matter how she rubbed against him, how she licked and sucked on his penis, it was still not good enough. The Pharaoh was still dissatisfied. He ought to have her sent away, but he was too bored. Even the new soft linen-covered bed he had acquired from the Merchant Prince in place of his hard, traditional Egyptian one gave him no new pleasure. It was entirely too big for one person and the feeling of those things called pillows was foreign – albeit comfortable – to his head. He sighed and signaled for the slave girl to stop, chancing a glance at the moonlit sky outside. It was almost that hour.

"Dress yourself and leave here with all haste," the Pharaoh bid his slave. "I wish to be alone now. You must tell the guards that no matter what they might hear, they are to stay only by the gates. I will have none of them patrolling near these chambers." If he did not take precautions now, he would lose his only source of amusement in the dreary life he led.

"As my Pharaoh commands," the girl replied obediently, rising from the bed and gathering her sheath dress to her body.

But even before the slave had taken on step away from the bed, the Pharaoh's eyes widened and he grabbed a glimmering pyramidal pendant from the wall itself. The girl was instantly flying backwards and onto her sovereign's lap. A sharp blade came flying through the air and pierced into her heart. She breathed no more.

"Thus you have made your attempt on my life for tonight." The Pharaoh tossed the corpse off his chest and took up a cloth piece to wipe the drops of blood on his arms.

A shadowy figure glided noiselessly into the chamber. "Are you so cowardly that you would hide behind a woman?"

"She was but a slave," the god-king waved off the question. "Her body was mine to command, and in her death, she simply fulfilled her duty to me." Even as he proceeded to wrap a kilt about his waist, one crimson eye narrowed. A flick of the wrist and there was a sharp sliding sound and the soft thud of something large crashing into one of the room's pillars. "And you have lost your chance to take the Items tonight, Thief."

Looking closely at the pillar nearest to the bed, a crumpled figure could be seen just getting to its feet. "Your senses are certainly not dull, my Pharaoh."

"Come closer, both of you," the Pharaoh commanded. "You have no more chances tonight to do what you came for, but I would have you keep me company for a while."

Draping the strange upside-down pyramidal pendant around his neck, the exotic-haired Pharaoh clapped his hands imperiously. The torches on either side of the bed flamed high and illuminated his two nighttime visitors.

One was more than a head taller than the Pharaoh, with half-insane lavender eyes and spiked pale golden hair. There were scars over his muscled chest, and the god-king already knew that similar scars ran across his back as well. His dark blue kalasiris only brought more attention to the pair of spear-like golden earrings glittering at his earlobes. The second visitor was thin – almost wraithlike – and his head was crowned with a long mane of eerily silver hair. He would have looked feminine if not for his deep, piercing brown eyes and the decidedly devilish smirk on his face. He was roughly the same height as the Pharaoh, if not slightly shorter, and his fingers were long and thin.

Obligingly, these two visitors crossed the floor and settled themselves on either side of their liege lord, careful to keep an arm's distance from the royal person. The Pharaoh chuckled to himself as the Assassin's eyes roved over his body, searching for unguarded points. The Thief's gaze, he knew, was steadily fixed on the pendant around his neck, the powerful talisman known only as the Millennium Puzzle.

"Firstly, Assassin," the Pharaoh began speaking again, "I saw your shadow near the shrubbery earlier and you did not throw the blade quickly enough to catch me unprepared. And you, Thief, have yet again forgotten that my skin is extremely sensitive and the moment you leaned on my bed to take the Puzzle from me, I knew you were there." He laughed throatily and snapped his finger for a senet board to appear before him. "Would either of you care to play?"

It had been like this almost every night since that first meeting. The Assassin would come to his chambers and attempt to send him to his tomb, while the Thief would use trickery in vain to gain possession of the seven talismans in the Pharaoh's keep. After they had made their attempts, the Pharaoh would invite them to stay for a while to amuse him... among other things. This was the only risky adventure he had left, the only one the duties of being a sovereign had not – could not – discover and take away.

"Why do you not alert your guards?" the Thief hissed, daring to lay hand on the crimson-eyed ruler's shoulder. "You should be guarding yourself and your treasures, and yet every night, you seem to give an open invitation for us to make our attempts to take them!"

The Pharaoh shook his head and lay back down on the sheets. "I will not let them take away my amusement. I am Pharaoh. So I will it, and so it must be."

One of the Assassin's large, calloused hands pressed into his chest. "You play a dangerous game, my Lord. From where I sit, I could easily slit your throat and the Tomb Robber could walk off with that talisman on your neck – and the others on the wall."

"I know you won't do it," came the confident reply. "I know your characters now. Both of you revel in the challenge of your activities and to do away with me now… it would be against all you believe."

It was the Thief who raised his dagger and pointed it at the Pharaoh's throat. "I should kill you for your insulting tongue."

"But you won't," the Pharaoh said again in that calm, confident tone, "will you? You won't be satisfied with something so underhanded. Criminals you may be, but you are not wholly without honor."

The Lord of Mind Games had won again for the night. Both Assassin and Thief stretched out on the sheets with their god-king. They lay in silence, staring up at the high ceiling above. After a moment, the Assassin turned on his side and looked critically at his sovereign.

"Why did you really send away that slave girl?" he asked, indicating the dead body lying at the bed's foot. "It wasn't to further conceal our… visit… was it?"

"You are truly observant." Blood-colored eyes closed in amusement and a smile ghosted across coralline lips as the Assassin's face drew closer and closer. "She did not satisfy me."

Feathery-soft fingers began tracing circles around the god-king's chest. The Thief's eyes sparkled with intense fires. The Pharaoh shivered at the touch; he knew they were fast coming to the one thing he looked forward to most about their visits, the one thing he could never quite rationally explain to himself in the morning.

"Would it please you for us to make an attempt?" the Thief purred into his ear. A hot, wet tongue licked its way up the monarch's jaw. The Pharaoh's penis sprang up to complete attention. "To help you find satisfaction you crave?"

"I – "

Suddenly, the Assassin rolled on top of the aroused monarch and ripped off his gold-embroidered kilt. "After all, it wouldn't do for the Pharaoh to be frustrated after such a long day of labors."

And so it began again, the proof of inexplicable attraction they felt for each other. And even the gods could not know where their adventures would lead.

This is one chapter that has been confusing to write up. Up to this point, using the information gathered, can you see where it's heading?