Quick Foreword! Malik is the Yami that Marik created from hate, Bakura is the Yami of Ryou's from the Sennen Ring and they have their own bodies. Yay, it's no longer a one shot!! Disclaimer: I disclaim Yugioh and all its characters!

Bang bang bang!

Bakura slowly opened his eyes, vowing to kill Ryou for interrupting his sleep. He sat up slowly, eyes still shut in horrendous fatigue. There was a constant, dull ache in the base of his spin that he wasn't used to. His lip twitched up in a carnivorous scowl. Then, four things happened in quick succession.

He opened his eyes and stopped breathing. Immediately, he realized A) he was not in his room B) Malik fucking Ishtar was laying next to him C) he had no pants on and D) someone was pounding on the door.

He hitched a breath, jumped off the counter and frantically pulled his jeans back on. He noted with mild horror that his thighs were sticky. This made him look up at the sleeping figure of Malik. He quickly pondered what was worse: waking him up and facing his taunts of being uke, or opening the pounding door and finding cops on the other side. With a frustrated sigh, he rolled his eyes and grabbed one of Malik's ankles, pulling him off the counter.

Malik woke mid fall with a yelp, just in time to slam into the ground back first. He huffed out a breath of pain, gritting his teeth. He looked up slowly at Bakura who hovered over him with a smug grin. "What the fuck is your problem?" he growled furiously, standing with a hand on his now bruised back.

"I seem to think that revenge is in order," Bakura said, folding his arms. He and Malik stared angrily at one another, bristled, waiting for the other to make the first move. Ah, awkward post-sex mornings…

Their tense stare down was broken up however by the agitated knocking on the door. Both spirits looked to the locked door.

"Who is it?" Malik asked.

"How the fuck should I know? I just woke up with no pants on sleeping next to your stupid ass," Bakura said, shrugging incredulously.

"Ra, calm down. How was I supposed to know how long you've been awake for?" Malik spat back, though secretly pleased that he had stayed all night.


"Well Captain, what now? This is your fucking club" Bakura asked. Malik turned on him.

"Excuse me, come dumpster, it was YOUR idea to sleep here!" he shot back. He hadn't slept too well; he had had wet dream after wet dream about Bakura. That'll keep anyone from sleeping well.

"FUCK you!" Bakura snarled, aiming a quick punch to the teens arm. He shirked away but caught the blow on the shoulder.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Malik said with a grin as another round of knocks echoed on the door, this time accompanied by,

"Is someone in there!?"

Bakura advanced on him, determined to set things straight regarding who was in charge of this 'relationship'. Malik watched with a cocked brow as the spirit grabbed him by the front of the shirt.

"I swear to the gods, I'll make sure you never fuck anything ever again if you keep it up," Bakura threatened, letting his embarrassment funnel into anger. He was unsure how to deal with this emotion: he had never felt it before.

"We'll see," Malik whispered confidently, pushing his body to Bakura with a smug grin. Bakura shied back, leveling a terrifying glare on him.

"The only thing you're gonna see is the floor as I fuck you into it," Bakura promised.

"Sure thing," Malik dismissed lightly, still smiling smugly. The whitenette grit his teeth.

Malik turned his attention back to the door, and, feeling good again, walked to it. He slid the bolts off and opened his slowly. Two men in uniforms almost tumbled in. Malik looked down on them with dark eyes.

"Can I help you?" he simpered without any hint of compliance or real cooperation. The two men untangled themselves and stood quickly.

"Uh, well, um-" the shorter man began.

"Out with it," Bakura growled, coming shoulder to shoulder with Malik. It was quite the terrifying sight; a pissed off Bakura and an irritated Malik both staring down upon them with no tolerance.

"Its just that… A club member was found dead here this morning… we came to check the rest of the rooms to see if-" the second man began. Malik cut him off.

"Well, we're not dead, as you can see, and I promise you we were too busy to be doing any killing last night," the bronze teen said shortly. Bakura stiffened, and sent him a dark glare.

The two men could clearly see that whatever was going on between these two was none of their business, and could have consequences if they interfered.

"Well… we-we need you to come up stairs for questioning anyway-" the second man tried weakly.

"Wrong answer," Bakura said, snapping. His misplaced anger landed full force on the unfortunate pair, and they cowered in fear as Bakura's Ring lit up. There was a brief flash of light, a thin shriek and complete darkness. The power flickered momentarily, and then came back on.

Malik looked down at the lifeless bodies.

"Was it really THAT bad?" he asked, almost genuinely curious. It seemed that Bakura was taking this sex thing way too hard.

"You wanna be next?" Bakura grated, stepping over the bodies. He couldn't believe that he had let himself succumb to Malik. He began to remember sharp details, and his stomach tightened. He headed down the hall blindly, not knowing where he was going.

Malik watched him go with a mild grin.

"Wrong way, retard," he called.

"Fuck yourself," was the response.

"You'll get caught by the cops," Malik warned.

"I'll just have to kill them all then, won't I?"

Malik shook his head. He didn't doubt that Bakura could do this; he just didn't want him in jail. He wanted to bring Bakura back to his place, and sort through this situation, hopefully with lots of tongue and rough sex. He hated to admit it, but the yami was his new fix.

"Wait fucktard. There's a door on the other end of this hall that goes outside," Malik said, jogging up to the other and grabbing his arm. Bakura yanked away from him.

"Don't touch me," he threatened, wide eyed with anger.

"That's my line," Malik said. Was Bakura being annoying for a reason?

"Will you grow up for three seconds and listen to me? Ra, you're acting like I killed the Pharaoh without you or something," Malik said, irritation evident.

Bakura simply glared stonily at him.

"Fine, go," he said.

"That's better," Malik said.

Bakura followed him silently, stepping back over the men he had just mentally destroyed. He had never been so uncomfortable and exposed. No one had ever had him before, and he felt like a moron. He hadn't even tried to stop him. In fact, if he let his mind go for just a second, he realized he had fucking loved it. With a jerk, he pulled himself out of his reverie, biting his tongue in punishment for such thoughts.

Malik's word was good, and the fire door at the end of the hall led to a blank gray parking lot, overgrown with weeds.

Bakura blinked back the bright day, ducking his head.

"We need a car," Malik said suddenly.

"I've got it," Bakura said dismissively, walking away from him. Anything to get away from him. He couldn't let him see how much this was fucking with him. Malik watched his retreating back, and now it was his turn to interpret the other spirit. The night before, Malik had been the pissy one. This morning, apparently it was Bakura's turn to PMS.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," the Egyptian called, catching up to him. The two walked silently, step for step.

"Bakura, honestly, you're being a faggot," Malik said after receiving the silent treatment for five minutes.

"You're one to talk," Bakura said flatly. They rounded an alley corner and there was a red Honda parked against the wall.

"Pre '94. I can wire this," Bakura commented more to himself then Malik. Malik watched him draw back his elbow and slam it into the driver's side window. The glass fell musically to the concrete. Bakura swept the door open, got in and began pulling chords to hot wire the car. Malik walked to the passenger side, pulling on the handle. It was locked.

"Open," he said, rapping with his knuckle on the window. He got no response, and the car came to life. Malik didn't know what was happening until the car pulled away from him, leaving him standing there, looking foolish.

"HEY! HEY YOU NUMB SHIT! GET BACK HERE!" he yelled, stunned. He took several running strides after the car. Suddenly, the tires screeched and the car pulled a tight u turn. Malik pulled up and could see Bakura through the windshield, eyeing him manically. Malik hitched a breath as the tires smoked when Bakura jammed on the gas. The car rocketed towards him, but Malik did not move. He did, however, think he was about to be hit by a car. Why not? Bakura was pissed, and he had done worse for less. So Malik stiffened, awaiting impact.

The brakes hissed and there was a scream of rubber and the car lurched back on the frame, front bumper gently pushing Malik's thighs. Malik looked down at the hood, letting out a shaky breath. He lifted his glare to Bakura, who was grinning, satisfied. He jerked his head towards the passenger seat. Malik lowered his head with narrowed eyes.

He dropped unceremoniously into the car, slamming the door.

"Asshole," he grumbled, staring out the windshield as Bakura sped through the street.

"I rather enjoyed that. Now tell me that way out," Bakura said, sounding more like himself.

"Left," Malik said dryly.

Bakura grinned.

Eventually, they reached Malik and Marik's apartment. They had apparently slept late; when Malik pushed open the door, it was 4:15 in the afternoon. Bakura followed him, still grinning about his victory with the car. He threw the keys on the counter and lazily stretched. Malik immediately hit up the fridge, pulling out a Corona instead of getting actual food.

"You up?" he said as Bakura passed, holding out another slim bottle. Bakura waved him off.

"Where do you keep your towels?" he asked. Malik straightened, a smile spreading over his face.

"Why ever would you need one?" Malik cooed, with mock curiosity.

"Answer the question or I'll use your Goddamn shirt," Bakura growled.

"I'd like to see that," Malik said provocatively.

"Creep," Bakura countered, turning from him, annoyed. Malik simply sipped his alcohol, peaking around the corner of the kitchen to watch his ass as he walked away. He smiled devilishly.

Bakura, no longer feeling the high of the car ride, wrenched open the bathroom door, muttering evilly to himself. A pair of startled eyes met his, followed by a yell. Bakura, momentarily shocked speechless, had the door slammed in his face. He closed his eyes and was sure that he had just seen an almost completely naked Marik. From down the hall, Malik said uninterestedly,

"Oh, he's home?"

"I didn't see his car," Bakura called back.

"That's because it's in for inspection," an irritated voice cut as the bathroom door swung open. Marik, now holding a towel firmly around his waist glared up at Bakura, lips pressed into a thin line.

"What are you doing in my house?" Marik asked suspiciously.

"I don't think you're really in a position to threaten me right now," Bakura said with a lustful grin spontaneously spreading over his face.

"I'm not Ryou: you can't scare me," Marik said, attempting to push Bakura out of the way while clutching his towel tightly.

"I don't want to scare you, just fuck you a little bit," Bakura grinned, grabbing Marik's wrist. It was no secret that Marik hated Bakura, and barely tolerated him. It was also known that Marik was afraid of Bakura, at least to a certain extent. And being half naked with just a towel and an annoyed Bakura was one of those times to be afraid.

"Back off Bakura," Marik said, the nervous light in his eyes betraying his steady voice.

"Aw, come on now-" Bakura began, sliding up to the original Ishtar boy.

"Ah-ah-ah, Bakura. This one's mine," Malik said, coming down the hall.

"Mm, lucky for you. It would've been too easy," Bakura crooned as Marik pulled his hand away like Bakura was a leper.

"Get fucked," he said and turned briskly, heading to his room.

Malik watched him go, but was more interested in Bakura, who was also staring after his hikari.

"Maybe you should listen to him," Malik whispered, catching Bakura off guard. Bakura jumped as Malik took him around the waist, letting his hand slide down. Bakura caught his breath. Malik bit the soft lobe of his left ear and was working down his neck. His tongue was hot and he seemed to know exactly what to do with it. Malik almost had his hands into Bakura's pants before he came out of shock. He lunged out of Malik's grip.

"I don't fuckin' think so," he snarled. Malik simply chuckled, running this thumb over the corner of his mouth.

"Soon enough," he vowed. Bakura sneered at him.

The two were interrupted as Marik came out of his room, now fully dressed. He was drying his hair quickly.

"Hm, I like you better naked," Bakura said as Marik ignored the two and passed between them.

"I agree," Malik said, following the two back into the kitchen. Marik fixed him with an acerbic glare before throwing his towel at his face. Malik laughed and caught it.

"Bakura, I found you a towel!" he said, tossing the damp linen to the spirit.

Marik gasped,

"No! Fuck no! That's mine!"

He sprang forward, attempting to wrest the towel from Bakura. Malik intercepted him however and held him around the waist, laughing as Marik struggled.

"Thanks Marik. I'll make sure to jerk off into it, ok?" Bakura said innocently.

"No! That's disgusting! Don't you dare- MALIK, LET ME GO!" Marik screamed. Bakura retreated to the bathroom, laughing as Malik continued to torture his hikari.

He clicked the lock shut and turned on the water to as hot as it would go. As he slipped into the shower, he began formulating a plan for getting on top again, literally.

He let the water run over him, burning him on his shoulders but running almost orgasmically down his back. He turned his face into the water, relishing in the way the heat relaxed his sore spine. He took as long as he pleased rubbing down his legs and arms with the smooth soap: leave it to a super queer like Marik to have the best soap. With a grin, he remembered his promise of leaving some DNA on Marik's towel and began to formulate his plan to prepare himself. He thought through the idea, and determined it was perfect. As the images of success began overwhelming him, he found it easy to fulfill his promise to Marik. He turned off the shower and quickly snatched the towel. He rubbed himself in a controlled frenzy, biting his lip through a grin. It took no time at all, and he tipped his head back as he came.

"Perfect," he sighed, completely at ease with last nights' happenings, now knowing he would have his revenge.

He slipped out of the bathroom in just his jeans and came around the corner to the kitchen.

"Give me a shirt," he said to Malik who looked him over with a cocked eyebrow.

"Take one of Marik's," he responded, not moving from his seat at the table. Marik, who was making himself lunch at the counter, wheeled around to face Bakura.

"Fuck no. Touch my clothes and I'll kick you out!" he said, brandishing the knife he was spreading tuna with. Bakura snorted; Marik's bracelets clinked as he gestured, making it hard to take him serious.

"You'll kick me out huh? Well, since I would love to see how you would do that, I think I'll go grab one," Bakura smirked .

"Bakura, I'm fucking serious, get the fuck away from my room!" Marik said, attempting to go after him. Malik, who had been watching the petty fight between the two, got up and snagged the back of his lights shirt. The angry Egyptian turned on him.

"No! Let me go! First the towel, now my clothes?! No Malik, I won't let your fucking friends do what they want!" he yelled, his voice soaring up an octave. Malik twitched, still not releasing him as he began to hit him.

"Ra, you're making my ears bleed with that voice," Malik said, shaking his head.

"Fuck you!" Marik shrieked, this time punching with earnest. The other sighed with disgust and spun Marik around, pinning his hands.

"Shut up and relax," Malik hissed as Marik protested.

Just then, Bakura came back into the kitchen, wearing a tight black sleeveless shirt, the exact kind of thing you'd expect to find in Marik's closet. Marik groaned.

"That one, really?" he whined dejectedly, Malik releasing him. Bakura flashed a toothy grin.

"You like it?" he growled suggestively. Marik put on a sour face and sighed in defeat, turning back to his lunch.

"I do actually," Malik answered instead, eyeing the spirit longingly. Bakura cast him a wayward glance.

"Well, I'll be sure to ruin this however I can," Bakura said, stretching. Marik slammed down a container of mayonnaise and grit his teeth.

"Fuck you Bakura," he barked, not looking at him. He continued to make his lunch rather angrily as the thief laughed in victory.

"That would make two of us," Malik said nonchalantly, settling back to his beer at the table. Bakura and Marik stiffened.

"WHAT?!" Marik exclaimed, whipping around to his dark, eyes incredibly wide with shock. Bakura stared angrily at the wall ahead of him, ignoring the comment.

"Oh yeah, last night. I fucked him good. You should've been there Marik-" Malik began casually.

"Ah no! Stop! I don't want to hear this!" Marik cried, throwing his palms over his ears.

"Shut the fuck up asshole!" Bakura yelled, hatred pulsing through him. His fists balled at his side and he drew his lip back in a snarl. Malik looked back at him calmly, sipping the beer.

"Just saying," he concluded, shrugging like it was no big deal.

"That's it, I'm out," Marik said. He grabbed a bag from off the top of the fridge, pushed all the things on the counter into it and swept his keys off the table.

"Ruin that shirt and pay for it," he threatened, pointing at Bakura as he swung open the front door.

"Bye," Malik called after him, no emotion in his voice. Marik rolled his eyes and slammed the door. Bakura was still seething at the other teen.

"There a reason you're being a fucking douchebag?" he demanded.

"What? It was a joke," Malik said, still acting completely calm.

"Ha ha, I'm still laughing," Bakura said flatly. When Malik still didn't look up at him, he pulled the chair out on the other side of the table, dropping into it. Malik had no choice but to acknowledge him. They stared at one another.

"What's with the blasé attitude, dick?" the thief asked, peeved.

"Don't know what you're talking about," the tomb keeper said with a knowing smirk.

"I'm sick of this shit, and it hasn't even been a day!" Bakura said after a minute of silence, dark eyes intent on the other.

"I'm not having a problem with it," Malik shrugged, leaning back in the chair. The sun had almost made it beyond the horizon, red orange light lancing in through the window.

"Well I'm about to be done with it. Play me for top," Bakura demanded. Malik laughed shortly.

"I believe I beat you last time we played," he said smugly.

"Not in cards, motherfucker; drinking," Bakura said icily. He hated that particular memory. Perhaps he could punish Malik for it tonight if this plan worked out the way he wanted to.

"Hmm… fine. But I've already had one-" Malik said, shaking the bottle loosely.

"Then I'll even the score and we'll move on to Bacardi," Bakura said, rising with an animalistic grin. Malik watched him, head tilted to one side quizzically. Something about his quick mood change struck him as wrong.

About twenty minutes later, Bakura was had prepared two pitchers of vodka. He placed one next to Malik and the other in front of himself. Malik had produced two three inch tall shot glasses. Each filled their glasses and sat back.

"Alright my friend, what're the rules?" Malik asked, amused.

"We take a shot and then toss this into the sink. If you get it in, you take another shot and so on. Whoever misses it first loses and is bottom," Bakura explained. The thing to be tossed into the sink was a sickly looking glow stick, left in his pocket from the previous night's adventure. Bakura dropped it onto the table. Marik judged it momentarily. He then looked at the sink. From both seats, it was about the same distance. He concluded that one would have to be extremely shit faced to miss the sink. It was pretty big.

"That may take awhile," he voiced, peering at the white haired teen.

"We'll see," Bakura said, grinning. Malik considered for a moment. He ran his long fingers through his hair.

"Alright then. Hope you like bottom," he grinned, picking up his glass. Bakura, who had just initiated step one of his plan unbeknownst to Malik, lifted his glass to him.

"You have no idea," he said truthfully, before tipping his drink back. Malik did the same and Bakura took first throw. The green ring plunked into the sink, and Malik retrieved it to try his throw. Unsurprisingly, his throw also landed in the sink.

Round two had the same results.



Five, six, seven, eight.

On the sixth shot, they had more trouble getting quickly to the sink, and by the eighth, Malik's hand was shaking. By the ninth shot, they had been playing for 45 minutes.



"Oh shit," Malik whispered sluggishly. He looked at the sink with one eye squeezed shut, aiming. His vision didn't seem to want to cooperate. He threw the ring up high and prayed frantically that it would go in. He sighed with relief when he heard it clink familiarly in the basin.

"Sounds like you're nervous you're not gonna make it," Bakura commented, retrieving the ring.

"What are you talking about?" Malik tried evenly, though his words sounded soft. Bakura smirked. He threw back his shot and aimed, barely looking. It landed in the sink. Malik stared wide eyed. He nervously reached for the pitcher to pour another. He could hold his liquor, and so could Bakura, but this was ridiculous. He thought it was more likely that he would pass out before missing the sink. Would that count as a forfeit? What happened if he threw up? Was that defeat too?

Malik sloshed alcohol around the glass before making it overflow. Bakura watched with intense satisfaction. He knew he was going to win. Then again, he was cheating…

"Get drunk, let's get fucked up. California throw it up, get buzzed let's get fucked up," Bakura quoted from Hollywood Undead, evenly taking his next shot. Malik shuddered as he placed his glass back down on the table.

"How are you not fucked right now?" Malik said angrily, using the table for support as he got the ring.

"I'll let you in on a secret… Just throw first," Bakura said squarely, with a secretive smile. Malik looked at him with black suspicion.

He got back to the table with a little stumble, but again managed to (barely) land the ring in the sink. It hit the counter and bounced in.

"Ah shit," Malik breathed, sighing in relief again. He sank a bit in his seat, turning to Bakura.

"Ok, what's your big keeping sober secret?" he slurred sarcastically. Bakura didn't answer but smirked at him. He took Marlik's shot glass and filled it with the liquid from his pitcher. He then pushed the little thing back across the table. He sat back, shadows falling across his eyes. Malik looked at him like he was insane. Which is sort of true.

"What the fuck?" he asked.

"Drink it," was the response. Slowly, Malik picked up the glass and downed it. He almost choked as he realized just how stupid he was. The glass was filled with water. Panic spiked in Malik's chest.

"You- you fuckin CHEATER!" Malik said, trying to stand threateningly. The twelfth shot had really done him in though; he stumbled sideways, falling to one knee while gripping the table. He stared at the floor as his vision blurred nauseatingly. He heard Bakura push his chair back and approach him around the table.

"I don't really call it cheating… just modifying the game," Bakura said stoically, pushing Malik over with his foot. The teen fell onto his hands and knees with a huff.

"You motherfucking- God damn… ah- you fucking suck-" Malik mumbled incoherently, so drunk it almost hurt. Bakura grinned down on him.

"Mm, this is going to be so good," he said, reaching down and pulling Malik up. Malik grabbed his wrists, first in protest then for support. Bakura pushed him roughly onto the table, climbing over him, much the same way Malik had the night before. Malik blinked up at him.

"Son of a bitch! How is this fair!?" he yelled angrily, pushing on Bakura's chest.

"Since when have I ever been fair?" he countered, pinning Malik's hands to the table. Malik tried to kick his legs free. Bakura, running low on patience, brought his knee up and pressed on his crotch. The breath went out of Malik's lungs with a gasp.

"Keep it up," Bakura threatened.

"Fuck," was all Malik could get out as he struggled weakly. The alcohol was quickly dragging him under, and he was finding it hard to form complete sentences.

"Why don't you just enjoy it?" the whitenette suggested fiendishly. Malik let his body go slack. With a glint of hesitancy in his eyes, he blew out a long, sweet breath in defeat.

(Lemon Warning! Turn back now, ye weak of heart! lol)

"Fine," he said, but before Bakura could react, he grabbed a hand full of his silver hair and smashed their mouths together. Bakura, thinking he would be the one to call the shots, had to balance himself on an elbow to stay up. Malik probed as far into his mouth as he could, viciously seeking dominance. Bakura tried to back out, but the sandy blonde would not let go of him. Again, Bakura found his patience wearing thin, and jumped on the offensive, aggressively kissing back. Neither worried about clean kissing; a thin strand of saliva ran out of Malik's mouth. Bakura quickly licked it off before taking Malik again. In his haze, Malik forgot he was supposed to be fighting Bakura off. Instead, he eagerly began pulling off Bakura's shirt, feverishly feeling ever part he could reach. Bakura shuddered compulsively and returned the gesture, sliding his hands under Malik's shirt. He abruptly broke their kiss and moved to Malik's neck, biting him. Malik let out a bark of laughter, arching his back.

"Come on, hurry up," he murmured impatiently after a minute, pulling hard on the spirits hair.

"Shut up," Bakura commanded. But he quickly complied, frantically trying to undo his jeans. Malik snorted at his pathetic attempt. Bakura cast him a frozen glance. Once he had his own pants off, he pulled roughly on Malik's.

"Ah! Easy!" he said as Bakura yanked them off unceremoniously. Bakura ignored him and overtook his mouth, pushing him flat on the table again. He didn't wait to slip one hand behind Malik's left knee, wrenching is up. Malik tried to break the kiss and jerk out of his grip, but he was too sloshed to resist successfully. Bakura growled with pleasure into his mouth and forced himself into Malik. Malik threw his head back, hitting it on the table.

"Goddamnit!" he yelled, gritting his teeth. He arched his back, gasping. Bakura lowered his lips to the base of Malik's throat, thrusting forcefully. Malik grabbed his hair again, pulling hard. He pushed his hips up, rocking in time with Bakura. So much for not wanting it…

Bakura pushed harder and harder, eagerly awaiting Malik's climax. He groaned low in his throat, fighting his own urge to beat him to it.

"Faster," Malik breathed suddenly. Bakura jolted; neither had done anything but moan or gasp for the last several minutes.

"What?" he rasped.

"Go. Faster." Malik demanded, looking at Bakura through half lidded eyes. Bakura had to bite his tongue to keep from coming at the command. Then, he vigorously obeyed the order, tipping Malik's head back and sucking on his throat.

"Fuck…" Malik sighed unevenly. He slipped his free hand between his legs, engaging himself in a frenzy. Bakura smirked knowingly.

"Say it," he said evenly, thrusting painfully. Malik twitched beneath him, his grimace of pain turning into a cruel grin.

"You get what you give," he spat, referring to Bakura's unwillingness the previous night.

"Fuck you, SAY IT!" Bakura yelled, bending Malik even further. Malik yelped in pain.

"No," he said shakily, pulling on the spirits hair in desperation; he felt an orgasm coming.

"You can't fight me. Say my name," Bakura hissed, pushing into Malik as far as he could. Malik moaned, pained but enjoying it all. His head swam as he released control of his body.

"Never," he said bravely, back arching. He was right on the edge.

"You will obey me!" Bakura snarled.

Malik cried out as he came violently. Almost immediately he clamped his mouth shut, allowing the feeling to overwhelm him and drown Bakura out.

"Son of a bitch!" Bakura yelled weakly, unable to control himself anymore. With a groan of defeat, he came too, resting his forehead against Malik's shoulder. Both panted quietly, Bakura's arm shaking from holding himself up for so long.

"Get off me," Malik said passively, pushing him. Bakura let himself be pushed off, only to be pushed up against the wall behind him. Malik assaulted him with his tongue again, mouth hot. The whitenette stood shocked for the second time that night. His eyes slipped closed and it was his turn to pull on the others hair. Suddenly, Malik pulled away from him. Utilizing the situation, Malik slipped his pointer and middle finger into Bakura's mouth, delighting in the sucking sound Bakura made. He pulled his fingers out slowly, Bakura watching memorized. Malik gently ran his wet fingers over his lips, apparently thinking. He smiled wickedly as the thief stared. He engaged Bakura in another sizzling kiss and slipped his fingers between his legs. Bakura shivered, body happily accepting him. Bakura wound his hands around Malik and opened his legs just a bit more when suddenly-

Bang bang bang!