For KuraCakes

(If you follow my Tumblr, don't bother reading this, cuz I already posted it there. This one was just kinda long for a oneshot, so I decided to post it here too.)

Marik stared at the rosy cheeked Bakura. Said albino was clutching a beer bottle in his hand, swishing the contents as he giggled every once in a while. Marik was quite unnerved by the giggling. Bakura didn't giggle.

"You're drunk," Marik stated, not even asking a question, merely pointing out what was painfully obvious. Crimson eyes rolled a little, before Bakura hiccuped, and gave a goofy grin to his blonde, tomb-keeper friend.

"Naw, I'm not!" Bakura argued, voice slurring as he set the bottle down. "Ye're the drunk 'un," he said instead, scooting forward to poke Marik in the nose. The Egyptian scowled at the Spirit of the Ring, and attempted to hide the blush spreading over his features.

Really, the universe must hate Marik. Take the man he liked, and put him in such a vulnerable position before Marik. It just truly wasn't fair. The Spirit's crimson eyes were staring up at Marik with a hazy shimmer over them, another giggle coming from the albino's mouth.

"Bakura, you're giggling," Marik said, fighting to keep his voice flat as Bakura was almost in his lap. Bakura just blew out a breath of air, the smell of alcohol floating from his mouth. Marik bit the inside of his cheek hard, closing his eyelids over top lavender orbs.

This had been a dumb idea, really. It had started out just for fun, though! Inviting Bakura over, where he found that Marik had beers in his fridge. They'd both decided to start drinking (Marik stuck to sipping on Bacardi drinks), whereas Bakura had started drinking (un)healthy amounts of beer. Looking back, Marik really should've thought about it.

Ryou didn't drink.

Therefore, Ryou had no alcohol tolerance.

Therefore, Bakura ended up drunk off his ass.

Marik sighed audibly, and stood up, one hand resting on Bakura's chest as the other cupped his arm, and he propelled the Spirit forwards, hoping to get him back to his original seat.

Bakura's head slumped over though, and his fluffy white head thumped against Marik's shoulder. Marik was suddenly hyper-aware of Bakura's shallow breathing ghosting over his neck where the golden bands broke and showed caramel skin peeping through.

"Dammit it all to hell," Marik grumbled, and despite himself his hands slid lower, clutching Bakura's hips as he stared down at the Spirit. He wanted Bakura badly but… Drunken love was not the way to go.

"Bakura, please go sit down," Marik requested instead. Bakura just let out a noise of protest, and moved forward, pressing his face to Marik's chest and wrapping his arms around the Egyptian's waist.

"Oh Mari~!" Bakura crooned, nuzzling his nose against Marik's chest, causing the Egyptian's heart to flutter. Damn the Gods and their cruel tricks!

"Please, Bakura," Marik tried, exasperation clear in his tone. His resolve was wearing thin, and if Bakura wasn't careful, Marik would have to shove him down on the couch and fuck the albino in a moment of drunken passion.

"Don't you like it?" Bakura questioned, leaning away to where is back arched into Marik's hand, and the blonde couldn't help but let his fingers massage softly at the small of Bakura's back. The albino let out an appreciative moan. Marik shuddered as he saw that the albino's flushed cheeks and moaning lips made it look like he was making love to Bakura.

Marik's mind was suddenly plagued with images of Bakura on his back, writhing from ecstasy as Marik showed him that he wasn't as innocent as everybody seemed to think he was. Really, just because he'd lived in a tomb his whole life, everybody thought of him as just a child. They didn't seem to register that Marik had indeed read books, and had been above ground ever since he'd killed his father. That was six years.

A lot could happen in six years.

And a lot could happen after those years, such as meeting Bakura and falling in love with the stupid, infuriating Spirit. The albino was a completely and total asshole; a sarcastic, good for nothing villain; plus, on top of all that, he seemed to have some sort of problem with revealing any sort of emotion.

But yet Marik loved him. Loved every little bit of him. Loved Bakura much more then he should, seeing as he was a villain himself, and should've been focusing on much more important things.

"I…" Marik started, not really knowing what to say to the Spirit's question. Oh Gods yes, he liked this? Who wouldn't? Marik even bet Yugi would have been flustered seeing Bakura in such a state.

Then that brought about thoughts of Yugi being with Bakura, and angered Marik, causing him to tighten his grip on the Spirit, consequently crushing their slender frames to one another.

Bakura stared down at their now touching bodies, before he lifted his face, grinning up at Marik, looking slightly goofy. Marik's face flushed, and he moved a little, brushing their hips harder together.

Groaning and the wonderful feeling that coursed through his body, he felt Bakura reacting as well, pale arms sneaking up to wrap around Marik's neck. Bakura's head lolled back just a little as he stared through lidded eyes up at Marik.

"Shit," Marik muttered, but found himself moving his hips again, causing more moans and the constricting of pants. Gasping slightly, Marik pushed Bakura over to the couch, letting the Spirit fall down to where he was on his back, staring up at Marik with a lustful, drunken gaze.

Feeling more blood pulling between his legs at that look, Marik moved over, straddling Bakura's hips, staring down at him. He knew he should probably stop now. This was not the way to let Bakura know his feelings. Drunken sex was never the answer for anything, and, more often then not, complicated things.

But yet here he was, grinding down on Bakura, loving the feeling and the noises Bakura was making. When felt Bakura's hands fumbling with his buttons, however, Marik quickly leaped away, casting his shamed gaze away from the confused Spirit.

"Marik?" Bakura's voice called, still sounding slurred and husky. Marik winced at hearing his name. This was disgusting, awful… He should never have done that! Bakura was his friend! And Bakura was drunk, making it twice as bad.

"I… You should go to sleep," Marik croaked, voice slightly hoarse. Turning towards his friend, Marik saw that Bakura was scowling, arms crossed over his chest.

"Fine then." Bakura spat, moving off the couch. He watched as the blue-jean wearing figure moved off down the hallway. With an irritated sigh, Marik realized that Bakura had, apparently, decided that he was getting Marik's bed tonight.

That brought a new bout of fantasies to Marik's mind, which he quickly drowned with beer.


Marik awoke, feeling a pounding in his head as he quickly sat up, holding his head in his hands as he let out a groan. He noticed he was still in his clothes from yesterday, though they were now more crumpled then he remembered.

With an irritated sigh, he looked down at his bed, and saw that the other side of it had the covers thrown back, as if someone had been in it and then left. Strange, Marik thought, but quickly ignored those thoughts, and decided to focus on getting up and getting some breakfast in his stomach.

Stumbling down the hallway, Marik kept one hand on the wall to brace him. Halfway there, he realized that he could smell pancakes and warm syrup, along with some type of coffee.

Picking up his speed, Marik entered his kitchen and froze, eyes widening as he stared at the person sitting on top of kitchen table, one leg crossed over the other as he calmly read his newspaper.


Memories from last night flooded in, and Marik winced as he felt shame again. He could only hope and pray that Bakura had been so hammered that he didn't remember anything.

Looking around, he saw a plate of pancakes on the counter, and looked at Bakura. The Spirit looked up from his paper, and smirked at Marik, before folding up the newspaper and setting it to the side.

"Want some breakfast, Marik?" Bakura asked, and Marik was aware that there was no more giggling; just a harsh smirk all glittering teeth, and his voice was no longer sing-song pitch, it was just dripping with sarcasm.

"Um… Yeah?" Marik said simply, a hand scrunching up his hair as he stared at Bakura, not quite sure of what the spirit was thinking.

"Makes sense. You did get pretty wasted last night," Bakura said in a falsely sympathetic voice. Crimson eyes glimmered dangerously from beneath white eyelashes, and Marik, despite himself, wanted to kiss the spirit even more then he had last night. After all, this was the real Bakura, not some drunken idiot.

"Come here, then," Bakura continued on, and Marik snapped out of his observations, and moved forward cautiously. Bakura was hard the predict, and the Spirit was obviously amused by something, and that was almost never a good thing, especially if the person or thing was the source of said entertainment.

Marik moved forward, though, ever-aware of the way Bakura was eying him. Thoughts of last night still pressed continuously at his mind, however, and Marik was painfully aware of the way Bakura's legs slid sensuously against each other, until the Spirit was sitting normally, legs spread just a little as Marik approached.

"You know," Bakura muttered, "I seem to slowly be recalling memories of last night." Marik twitched visibly, and Bakura grinned, lifting a pale hand and placing it on Marik's shoulders. "I seem to recall something like… This happening," Bakura's hand went lower, and massaged at Marik's lower back in a way all to familiar.

Marik gulped, but he couldn't deny that this was a very, very wonderful feeling.

"And then… Didn't we do something like…this?" Bakura's legs went out, wrapping around Marik's hips as he pulled the blonde in, crushing Marik's hips onto his own. Marik groaned, and his hands went to either side of Bakura's hips, bracing himself against the table.

"Mm, that feels good, doesn't it, Mari?" Bakura questioned, his voice sounding strained as he moved his hips against Marik's, causing the blonde to moan and dig his fingernails into the wood of the table.

"But yet you didn't go farther then that…" Bakura muttered, stopping abruptly and scooting away from Marik. The blonde made a small noise in the back of this throat, but didn't argue further arguments, just stared up into those narrowed crimson eyes.

"Why, Marik? Why didn't you go farther?" Bakura questioned, staring down into Marik's lavender pupils. "I was in the perfect position. I even recall attempting to help you unbutton your pants. So again and again I ask… Why? Had situations been reversed, I hope you know I would've fucked you," Bakura voice took a deep tone, turning slightly raspy. Marik shuddered, and felt the sensual voice give even more power to his boner.

"I…" Marik started, not really knowing what to say. "I… I like you a lot Bakura," Marik finally muttered, figuring it would just be best to get this over with. And anyways, it was probably painfully obvious at this point.

Bakura said nothing, though, and just stared at Marik.

"You… Like me?" Bakura repeated, in a slightly incredulous voice. Marik could only nod pathetically, realizing that last night would probably be the last time he and Bakura ever did anything alone together again, since the Spirit would probably never want to see Marik again.

With those horrid thoughts in mind, Marik moved to turn away, but he felt Bakura's legs tighten around his hips, holding him in place and effectivly dragging him back close to Bakura. The Spirit stared down at him, smirk gone as he glared down at Marik.

"Where do you think you're going?" Bakura demanded, clearly angered by something. Marik could only blink incredulously at Bakura. His gaze obviously showed his confusion, since Bakura rolled his eyes and leaned forward, nose tip touching Marik's.

"You… You value me enough to not fuck me?" Bakura said, still sounding confused despite all his bravado. Marik offered a small smile, before shrugging his shoulders.

"I didn't… I didn't want drunken sex. I wanted… Something special. You… Mean more to me then that, Bakura." Marik hated himself for saying those words. For sounding so weak and needy.

Bakura was silent though, and Marik wished that Bakura would release him. But then he felt pale, cold hands touching Marik's cheek as he pulled Marik's face in closer. Marik blinked, and realized what Bakura was doing. Instead of waiting like an idiot, he pushed forward, escaping Bakura's hand and crushing his lips onto Bakura's. He felt Bakura's hand fist into Marik's purple top, pressing their chests together.

Bakura fell back, head smacking the hardwood table. Marik ended the kiss then, pulling back and staring down at the panting Bakura.

"So… I take it you like me back?" Marik asked.

"Shut up and kiss me."


Sorry he wasn't drunk through the whole thing, I'm just sort of anti-drunk sex and relaitionships (Lord knows Thiefshipping has enough of them…) A~nd this turned out so much longer then it should be!

For KuraCake, going along with the picture: http: / / kuracakes tumblr .com/post/7239630395/finally-i-finished-it-o-i-dunno-why-but

I'm not going to edit this right now since I'm lazy as hell, but I'll come back later and re-read it to check up on it. Ugh.