Author's Note: This is written for lolaf because I promised a Marik/Bakura story...This is the third version and the only one I liked so...Yeah. Happy Valentines Day:)
Read and Review at your Leisure.
Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh is not mine.
Edit: Went back and corrected some mistakes.
It hadn't been the easiest thing to admit, he thought, but it had its desired affect. A stunned silence, mouth opening and closing, fear in those black eyes and that slap across the face. It still burned, not the mark, but the words spoken.
"Don't do that to me, Marik, it's not funny." It wasn't meant to be funny, Bakura.
Marik wasn't soft and comforting, he didn't care about others feelings unless he caused them some sort of great pain…Well, he was caring now. About that white-haired, onyx-eyed boy who had unmistakably kidnapped his heart, Marik wanted it back. He hated the warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest, how his cheeks would darken when Bakura looked at him, the trembling, broken sentences, avoiding eye contact. He felt sick to his stomach and passionately angry with himself.
Perhaps I shouldn't have said anything; maybe it would've been easier.
He had twelve dark red roses, the stems all wrapped in black silk, around the silk was a single golden tear strung on a sable cord. Marik had taken the time to dress himself appropriately, long black jeans, a tight white T-shirt and golden arm bands; he even combed his hair. It was raining and he was hiding beneath a black umbrella, staring up at Bakura's window. The curtains were drawn over the glass and Marik had been standing across from the teen's apartment for two hours straight. He had texted in advance but Bakura hadn't answered, hadn't acknowledged him there alone in the wet world.
Happy Valentine's Day, Bakura, whether you want it or not.
The Egyptian brought the bouquet to his lips, revelling in the petals, sighing in the scent of bliss. He thought about tossing the flowers to the road but couldn't bring himself to throw away his symbol of love.
Oh, that tastes rather funny on the lips. Love. Let it roll and blossom from your throat, everyone stops to listen to your voice, finish your story, boy. Say it proudly.
"I love you, Bakura!"
People walking past him paused to give him glares or sympathetic glances, cars sped by without a care and Marik started the long walk home.
"Marik!" He whipped around and stared across the street, eyes growing wide like saucers. There he was, striped shirt and all. He was barefoot and his hair managed to maintain its height although it was starting to sag a bit. The two ran towards each other, dodging stampeding trucks and vans to embrace one another. Bakura was freezing, shaking beneath his clothes and clinging to Marik like a frightened child. They moved off the road and under a tree, Marik was running his hands up and down Bakura's arms.
"You idiot, what are doing?"
"I-I wanted to ta-ta-talk to you."
"You could've texted me or something."
"N-no. Too much to s-s-s-s-say." Marik rolled his eyes and put the flowers in Bakura's hands; he wrapped an arm around his shoulders and placed the umbrella over both their heads. They walked to the crosswalk and crossed over to Bakura's apartment. Into the elevator, down some confusing hallways, then into Bakura's home. Small, meticulously cleaned, and stuffy with books and unimportant knickknacks. Marik dropped the umbrella on the floor and lifted Bakura into his arms, moving towards the bathroom. Bakura had put on the necklace and it fell over his Millennium Ring, the two of them glittering like unspoken promises no one was willing to admit yet. Marik stripped Bakura and turned the water on. Bakura slipped the Ring off and stared down at the gem, the roses had been pushed into the sink.
"Where did you find this?" Bakura asked, Marik walked to the door to shut it and Bakura slipped off his boxers and slipped into the tub, frowning at his friend's excessive use of bubble bath.
Bakura raised an eyebrow. "You can do that?"
"For you? I'd do anything." Marik said gruffly, hiding his face with one hand and looking away. Bakura sighed and leaned back, stretching his arms out and closing his eyes.
"Bring me those roses, will you, Marik?" Something in the white-haired boy's voice made Marik shiver and he grabbed the roses, dumping in the water. Bakura plucked the petals off one by one, he even twisted one flower in his hair; the tub was suddenly red. Bakura looked thoughtful for a second, moving his head to one side with a faint smile on his lips, lips pink like virgin roses. Marik watched Bakura uneasily, that sickening feeling pushing uncomfortably against his lungs.
"You know, I haven't been straight with you." Bakura said softly.
"Is that so?" Bakura nodded and stretched out a hand, beckoning. Marik walked over and sat on the edge of the bathtub, Bakura pushed himself up until he could meet Marik's eyes perfectly.
"I thought it was funny, your confession," Marik frowned. "The thing is…I feel the same, that's…That's why it was…funny." The thief licked his lips and blushed slightly, Marik's heart seized.
"Are you…? Do you mean to tell me that you…?"
Bakura grabbed the front of Marik's shirt and pulled him into a kiss, one of those kisses that said everything. Marik was slipping, crashing into the water as he let his hands roam over Bakura's chest until they found their right place on Bakura's hips. Bakura wrapped his arms around the Egyptian's neck, curling his fingers around golden hair. Their faces were red, lips pink, eyes lidded with purple shadows. Marik pulled his shirt off and threw it against the door as he bit into Bakura's shoulder, marking his territory. Bakura arched against the coolness of the tub and moved his hands against Marik's back, dragging his fingernails into the flesh and moaning, legs twisted and jerked. The Egyptian slid back into the waters, roses collecting around his face, one hand slid down Bakura's stomach, pausing just once to fiddle with white pubic hair.
Bakura leaned back, eyes trying to blink away exhaustion, he could almost see his breath, he felt so warm. Marik attached himself to one of his lover's nipples, glancing up to savour the look of pleasure on Bakura's face. He sucked it, hands playing over white skin and pressing into ribs like piano keys.
"Marik, I need you."
"I know, love, give me a minute." Marik stood up and unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them off with his socks. Bakura was breathing shallowly, Marik grinned. He practically fell into the water, scattering the sea of darkening red, he put his hands on either side of Bakura's face, kissing his mouth a little hungrily, then lowered himself inside.
"Here goes.." Marik wanted to be slow at first, find the perfect rhythm then deal out the pain. Bakura held onto Marik's shoulders, mouth wide and eyes narrowed. The pace was faster, Bakura's voice hit a pitch that he had never reached before, he felt sweat collect over his brow, his throat was rough from all the screaming. The water was cold now, spinning around the drain and both stared at the final signs of moisture left them, damp petals stuck to their skin, the last of their fluids made a slow journey to the drainpipe.
They didn't move from the bathroom for a while, breathing deeply through their mouths then searching to find each other with their eyes closed. Marik held Bakura down as he placed quick kisses all over him, Bakura was whimpering, struggling to meet him in that place between pleasure and euphoria.
"We…We should get out before you get cold again." Marik said breathlessly.
"Yeah…I wouldn't want to do that again, would I?" Bakura replied, equally breathless but smirking all the same. Marik stood up shakily and pulled Bakura up, it was noted immediately that Bakura did not have ample use of his legs and Marik couldn't carry him without his arms shaking.
"Maybe we'll stay here just a while longer." Bakura said, leaning back and sighing, Marik curled up against his chest.
"Oh yes, definitely, I agree with you."
"...Subtle, Marik, very subtle."
A Good Four Hours Later
"Wow, wow, wow!"
"Joey? What the Bloody Hell are you doing here?"
"I thought that maybe you'd like to hang out with the gang, man, but wow, man. Some warning would've been nice. You didn't tell us you were gay!"
"Clearly, I was lying, Wheeler. Now get out or I'll make you come in here with us!"
"I'm going, I'm going!"
"…You wouldn't really want him, right?"
"Of course not, Marik. You are all I'll need."
"How sweet, Happy Valentine's Day, Fluffy."
"Same to you, Nancy."
nancy: A man who is either extremely effeminate, or homosexual. Or both.