Marik woke to a strange sensation on his neck. A warm, wet and pulling sensation that, though odd, was not unpleasant. In fact it was very pleasant, and his lips parted with a soft sigh. There was a pause in the sensation, and then it was on the other side of his neck, and his head automatically tilted to the opposite side to accommodate. The more awake he became, the more familiar this feeling grew. He knew he'd felt it before, but when?
A little more sleep crawled out of his mind, letting him feel his body. There was something warm and heavy in his lap, and something cold on his stomach. The cold thing moved a little, running up to his chest and back down, and then his stomach grew even colder. He shivered, and finally forced his still-tired eyes open.
It was dark. It must have still been late. That, or it was very early. At first, all he could see was the darkness, but as his eyes adjusted, a few shapes began to show themselves. They were fuzzy, but then came into focus; there was his shelf with nothing on it, a picture frame, the trunk of junk he and Bakura used to share, and Ryou hovering over him. The last one made him startle, and he flinched back into the mattress with a short cry.
Ryou giggled. "Good morning, sleeping beauty," he purred, fingers dancing up to Marik's chest.
"G-good morning?" Marik replied, catching Ryou's hands and pushing them away as he sat up. "What's going on?"
Ryou smiled sweetly, almost too sweetly, and his hands wriggled out of Marik's grip. "What do you mean? Don't you like my wake up call?" He wrapped his arms around Marik's neck, dipping his hands into his shirt collar. His palms were ice.
Marik grimaced and scrambled to reclaim the Brit's hands, his stomach growing heavy with dread. What was wrong with Ryou? "I-it could be less hands on," he admitted hesitantly, heart in his throat. He had so many bad feelings about Ryou's behavior right now...
Ryou pouted, but leaned forward so he and Marik were nose to nose. "Do you not like me touching you, Marik?" He pressed his chest against Marik's, wiggled in his lap. With building apprehension, Marik noticed that Ryou was naked. He leaned away to avoid anymore contact, and Ryou used his imbalance to push him back to the bed. He crawled over him, licking his lips. "I bet if you calm down a little you'd love me touching you. You'd beg me for more."
Marik shrunk underneath him, eyes wide and breath heavy. He moved to get up, to push Ryou off him, but the smaller boy caught his wrists and pinned him down, squeezing them so his fingernails bit into his skin painfully. He winced, and pushed his hips up to try and knock Ryou off balance. When Ryou let out a gasp of pleasure, he kept his hips close to the bed. Growling softly, he finally just looked at Ryou, making sure to meet his eyes.
"Ryou, what the fuck are you doing?" he demanded, trying to pull his hands away. Ryou chuckled softly and lay down on him, licking up his jugular.
"Marik," he sighed heavily, his voice deep with lust. He kissed and sucked at his neck, and Marik's stomach dropped when he recognized the sensation from earlier. He felt sick. "Marik," Ryou repeated again as he rubbed his hips with the Egyptian's. His breath was hot, and his voice soft and breezy. "I've waited as long as I could because I know what my dark side did to you, but I just can't help myself now. 'Mm so horny... I want you so bad."
Marik froze. He had been expecting that, but... It was still shocking to hear it come out of Ryou's mouth. It was so unnatural, so bizarre...so uncharacteristic of him. So...Not Ryou. Suddenly it dawned on his how very much not Ryou Ryou was acting and he cursed himself for not realizing it before. Before he could struggle again, Ryou released one of his hands, either because he trusted the other to not move or because he was just so sure he had startled him into paralysis. Marik took advantage of this and reached out to grab Ryou, push him off, but the smaller boy caught his hand and pinned it again. He looked hurt. The look would have hurt Marik too had he not already known it was an act.
"Don't you want me Marik?" The whitette cooed, tilting his head. He held both of Marik's wrists in one of his hands now, trailing the other down his chest, over his stomach, and coming to a stop in his crotch. "Come now, you have to want me. I'll be sooo good."
Marik shook his head. Ryou frowned and bit his neck. Marik swallowed around the teeth, and in a very weak voice he said, "You're not Ryou."
The boy above him paused, then licked the mark he had made. "What are you talking about? Of course I am."
"No you're not. Ryou would never do this."
Marik's ripped his hands so quickly from Ryou's grip it surprised even himself, and left Ryou in shock. He had managed to catch Ryou by the throat, and was currently glaring up at him as he squeezed. "You may have fooled me in the beginning, but you're not Ryou, so stop wearing his face like you are."
Ryou's eyes widened, before they narrowed with a grin. He chuckled darkly, and the sound was so much deeper than it was a minute ago. Marik's heart leapt to his throat. His suspicions had been correct. It left him terrified and feeling cold and betrayed.
While he didn't change physically like he usually did, it was obvious just from the atmosphere around them now that it had all been an act. Bakura grinned down at Marik, still looking so much like Ryou it made Marik's chest hurt. "So you found me out," he purred, not caring that Marik could crush his throat at any time. He knew he wouldn't. Not with Ryou in this body too. He licked his lips and rubbed Marik through his pants. The boy flinched and tried to draw away. "What gave me away?"
Marik wriggled under him, trying to get his hand away from his most sensitive place, but that only made him grin and rub harder. "Ry-Ryou would never touch me like this. He couldn't."
Bakura laughed and stroked down Marik's side with his other hand. "Just because he wouldn't doesn't mean he couldn't...or doesn't want to." Marik squeezed his throat tighter, silently telling him to shut up, but Bakura either didn't care or didn't feel it. The man took a couple deep, but labored breaths, and when he spoke his voice was strained but still so commanding. "He probably wants you just as much as I do. He's just not as assertive as me."
"He's not a fucking rapist."
"You still think this is rape! Can't you feel how hard you are?"
"Yeah, you were only fondling me in my sleep."
"Mm, and you like it." He grabbed Marik's wrist and pulled his hand away, then leaned down and forced his lips against Marik's. The Egyptian let out a muffled cry and kicked his legs, pushed his hips up, anything to get Bakura off of him. Bakura stayed right where he was, only pulling away after he had run out of breath. He laughed softly and looked down at Marik with Ryou's soft eyes. Marik felt a stab of pain in his chest as their eyes met.
"Ryou..." he found himself whispering, involuntary tears springing into his eyes. Bakura looked surprised to see this- Marik never cried in front of him, and on those occasions he did, it was just after he had had some fun- but he soon got over his shock and slapped Marik across the face. He grabbed the boy's hair and pulled him into a sitting position, growling out his words.
"I don't care what my host has said or done to you. He's not coming to save you. You are mine."
Marik stared at him blankly with large, wet eyes. Bakura growled and slapped him again. "You're mine!"
"Then why are you still wearing Ryou's face?"
Bakura was silent for a moment, but then he grinned. "Would you rather look upon my version of his face?"
It was Marik's turn to be silent. And silent he was, finally just turning his head away from Bakura instead of giving him an answer. This angered Bakura even more, and he delivered yet another slap to Marik's face. This one had so much force it made Marik fall back onto the bed, where he just lay there waiting for the inevitable.
Bakura was breathing hard, but he collected himself and ran a hand through his hair. "Why are you always so difficult, Marik?" he questioned. He lifted himself up and turned Marik onto his stomach(though the boy did protest that, a little), then sat himself back down on the Egyptian's scarred back. "It's so much easier for both of us when you don't fight back."
Marik didn't answer again, and didn't resist as Bakura pulled his arms behind him and bound them. Bakura would have grinned if the behavior wasn't so suspicious. He grabbed a fist full of Marik's hair and pulled him up, turning his head to look at him.
"You're awfully quick to take my advice," he mused. Marik only glared back, his mouth set in a firm grimace. Bakura studied him for a moment before chuckling. "Such a strange one you are..." He kissed those frowning lips, pushing his tongue inside his mouth before letting him drop back to the bed and moving behind him. He hummed and pulled Marik's hips up, pressing his own against his ass and grinding. He groaned, and Marik whined under him. He grinned wide and did it again.
"Does that feel good, Marik?" he asked, grinding harder. Marik seemed to bite his lips, and Bakura slapped his ass. "Answer me Marik. I can do far worse you know."
Still Marik remained silent, unmoving save for his breathing. Bakura frowned and leaned over him. "You know...there are ways I can trap Ryou in his own mind so that he can never control our body again." Marik stiffened, and Bakura grinned. He ran his hands up and down Marik's thighs. Of course he couldn't really do that. If he could he already would have done it. But no harm in telling Marik another bucket of lies. Make it far more interesting. "Mhmm... I could crush his very existence right now if I wanted to... Make the body solely mine. I could have done it long ago, but he was such a sweet boy. He never fought back. And nobody cared about him back then, and what's the point of killing a hostage when no one's going to react, right?"
Marik was breathing hard now, and his hands rolled in their bindings, seeking an escape. Bakura pressed a hand upon them to still them, wanting Marik's full attention. "So Marik, I offer you this choice... Either cooperate now, and see more of Ryou's mind in the future or, you disobey me and I obliterate his soul now. Your choice."
Marik closed his eyes, pulled in a deep breath. What could he do? Obeying this monster's commands was the last thing he wanted to do, but if he could really do that to Ryou... He didn't have a choice, did he? He couldn't let Ryou die, even if it was a mental death. With no one to control him, Bakura could do even more wicked things to him. And besides that, Marik had started caring about Ryou. More than he should. More than was probably healthy. He was the first person to treat him like a friend, like a real friend, and he was the first to actually call him out for what he did wrong. He was the first person aside from his siblings to comfort him and, likewise, Ryou had been the only one he'd comforted as well. And, and Ryou had protected him from Bakura's wrath until now. Even if he was oblivious to just how much he'd helped Marik just being there and being his friend and not being Bakura, Marik couldn't let him die. He couldn't stand the thought of him being gone, of Bakura being able to have their body all to himself.
He had to stop falling for people who could hurt him.
Bakura waited all of one minute before raking his fingernails down Marik's back. "Well, Marik? Have we come to an agreement?"
Marik came to a decision quickly and pushed his face into the pillow. He mumbled something unintelligible. Bakura raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. "What was that now?"
"It feels good," the blonde repeated, just a louder mumble.
Bakura leaned even closer, cupping his hand around his ear. "Say again? I can't hear you in the back."
"It feels good." Barely even above a mumble. His throat tightened with unshed tears.
Bakura grinned, his tongue rolling out to wet his lips. "I knew you'd come around. And just for that, I'll be gentle." Marik grumbled something again, but Bakura paid no attention. He spit on his palm and rubbed it on his length, deciding Marik could at least have a little lubrication this time around. He still thrust quickly inside, loving Marik's gasp of pain as he was filled.
"Mm, you feel so good," he said, rolling his hips slowly. Marik clamped his lips shut, more to keep in his rush of sobs more than anything else. Bakura didn't like his silence though, and told him so by slapping his ass again. "How do I feel?" he wondered purposefully, giving Marik a sharp thrust. The boy hissed, but didn't say anything.
Bakura nearly pouted, but quickly changed tactics. He let his face fall into an innocent little frown, and lightened his voice to match his host's. "Marik, tell him how he feels! Please, for me!" He feigned a whimper. Marik had grown stiff at 'Ryou's' voice, but slowly he relaxed and mumbled once again.
"What? I can't hear you."
Marik whipped his head around to glare at him. "You feel good, you sick fuck!"
Bakura slapped his ass once more. "I could do without the name calling, but I suppose it's a start." He grabbed Marik's hips and pulled him closer, so he slowly filled Marik to the brim. Using Ryou's voice, he moaned. Marik shuddered, but from pleasure of disgust, he didn't know. He continued to slowly thrust inside, enjoying this pace. It left him with enough brain power to study Marik, really study him. His skin was richer than when they had last seen each other, and his hair shinier, more alive. He was still skinny, but he'd seemed to fill out in the day Bakura had been away. Half of Bakura was okay with this; he liked a healthier victim more than a sick one. But the other half of him knew it was because of Ryou. He didn't like that. Just like how he loved how Ryou could be used to bribe Marik now, but hated how influencing they were on each other.
Frowning at these thoughts, he gave Marik a sharp thrust that made him gasp again. It was satisfying, so he did it again. And again, and again, until he had built up a much rougher pace than he had promised, and his breath came in deep gasps. Marik didn't say much of anything, but whined and whimpered and gasped with every other thrust. It was more vocal than he'd been in a long time, and Bakura was nearly ready to come when he heard Marik speak.
He didn't stop, only slowed a bit so he could hear the blonde. He was crying, if Bakura's ears and the shaking of Marik's voice weren't lying. His eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in anger. How dare Marik think of the host when it was Bakura fucking him. Growling, he flipped the boy onto his back, wrapping a hand around his neck. Marik stared back at him, his wide eyes full of fear and dejection, tears wetting his cheeks. He sobbed openly, his gaze wavering, and Bakura drew back, not sure how to react. Marik never cried in front of him. He, he just didn't. It was something that just didn't happen, Marik didn't want himself to seem weak so He just didn't. But there he was now, his eyes closed and his face strained, lips tight over his teeth in what could have just been a very ugly smile if Bakura had not known better. He didn't feel sorry for the boy, but... Something about Marik crying like this, crying in any way before it was over just made this less fun.
Yeah. That was it. Less fun.
He narrowed his eyes further and pasted on a smirk, stroking his hand down Marik's chest. "So, you're calling for the host even when it's me fucking you senseless, huh?" Marik didn't respond with more than a hiccup, so he entered him again and thrust hard enough to make him wince. He glared down at the Egyptian. "You're a filthy slut. You want me and the host." He thrusted in again, reestablishing his earlier pace. Marik choked on his sobs and cried out in pain, but didn't struggle. He had given up the fight as soon as Bakura brought Ryou into the equation.
Bakura swallowed and forced himself to move faster, thrust harder, damage and break him and make him bleed again. The more Marik cried, the sicker Bakura almost felt. But it wasn't really sickness was it? It was excitement. Anticipation. He was just anxious for Marik to come so he could gloat about him being a masochist and a slut and enjoying all of it. He wasn't getting a conscious all of a sudden or anything. He was just animated and elated feeling and seeing and hearing Marik again after being locked up in his Ring and he was excited to be doing this again and, and-!
His thoughts were suddenly cut off as a hand once again wrapped around his throat. He was too shocked by it to wonder how Marik had gotten free, and before he could even look down at the boy he found himself being pushed back into the couch cushions, two hands now on his throat. He gasped for breath and clawed at the hands, but they just tightened painfully. He looked up at Marik as the boy crawled over him, but then his mind registered the aura. This was not Marik. This man radiated hatred and anger and bitterness, while Marik's was always a cracked resemblance of the arrogance and superiority he used to hold. His tears had dried, and he seemed to care very little as the life drained from Bakura and, consequently, Ryou as well.
Warning sirens went off in Bakura's head.
This was not Marik.