WARNING: This is not pure smex. I do enjoy thiefshipping smex, and there is some smexiness in this...thing, but it is not porn. It does, however, call for an M rating. For...obvious sexual references.

ANOTHER WARNING: Sort of abridged universe? Marik is probably insanely out of character. But seeing how he has a different personality in the original Japanese, 4Kids dub, and LittleKuribou world, his character is basically a free-for-all.

DISCLAIMER: Don't own Yu-Gi-Oh. If I did, it would be called Zorc & Pals and Tea would be murdered in the second episode.

Marik gasped as startled tears ran down his face. Without thinking, he launched himself off the bed and latched onto his father's arm, hanging onto it as he sunk to his knees.

"Please, don't hurt him!" He cried, the fabric of his Tomb Keeper's robes spilling onto the stone floor. "Punish me! Just leave him alone!"

His father turned to stare down at him with hate-filled eyes, raising his hand to strike Marik across the face. Marik fell to the floor, his cheek reddening, but he barely felt it.

"Don't you dare beg me for anything." He hissed, delivering a kick to Marik's stomach. Marik doubled over, wheezing. "You have both committed filthy acts, so I have to punish you both."

Marik watched through his tears as his father turned around to Bakura, curled up into what could only be thought of as a ball. Bakura looked up at his lover's father with fire in his eyes, knees bent in an attempt to hide his nakedness. He clutched his right kneecap with both hands, and Marik felt pain in his chest as he remembered how his father had kicked the pale boy in the knee, probably breaking it, to keep him from running.

As if he would run and leave Marik behind.

Suddenly, Marik jumped up, grabbing hold of his father's shirt and jerking him back. "No!" He yelled, desperation evident in his voice. The man turned around and snarled, his hand wrapping tightly around Marik's throat and throwing him backwards.

The next thing he knew, Marik found himself tied to one of the pillars in the room, coarse rope wrapped around his wrists and torso, keeping him pinned to the stone. Across the room, his father was busy at work tying Bakura's wrists together, his eyebrows knitted in concentration as he pulled the knots tight. Bakura stared down at the ground, defeated.

Marik screamed as he threw himself against his bindings, thrashing wildly as he tried in vain to get free and help Bakura. His father didn't even looking up. "Don't bother, Marik."

Marik felt his heart stop as he watched his father get to his feet, his hand wrapping around the whip lying at his feet. Bakura turned his face his way and for a second, Marik's frantic purple eyes met Bakura's somber brown ones. Bakura smiled, then turned his face back to the floor as the whip came down.

"NO!" Marik yelled. He yanked at the ropes, his body shaking. He heard his father's sharp intake of breath as he poised the whip for another stroke.

"This is what happens when you insult the family tradition, Marik." The man said coolly, never sparing his sobbing son a glance.

Crack.

"What will Ishizu think when she finds out her brother is a filthy sodomite?"

Crack.

"What about Rishid, the servant you love so much?"

Crack.

"What would your mother think? The woman who died giving you life?"

Crack.

Do you think she died so you could become a sodomite? She didn't, Marik! You've disgraced her!"

Crack.

Crack.

Crack.

Bakura put up no fight, did not try to defend himself with words or action. He simply took their shared sin on his back, eyes closed, teeth clenched; only grunting in pain each time the whip came down on his back. His stark white hair stuck to the ravaged flesh of his back, dark blood soaking the pale strands.

Crack.

Marik's limbs quivered as he watched his lover beaten a scant few feet away from where he was tied up. He bit down on his lip, hoping to draw blood, wishing he could share in Bakura's pain.

"LET HIM GO!" He roared. His father dropped the whip, his head jerking over his shoulder to glare at Marik with a mixture of hatred and surprise. Bakura pried one eyelid open, staring at Marik through gritted teeth.

"It's…alright...Marik." Bakura wheezed. He screwed his eyes shut again as he pressed his face into the floor, but Marik's father was there, seizing Bakura by the shoulders as he forced the teenager onto his knees.

"I will not let him go." The man said, his breathy voice uneven. "Watching him be punished in your place is obviously more painful for you than being beaten yourself. This will make a more lasting impression." He produced a long knife from behind his back, his hand shaking as he brought the blade to Bakura's face. "The vile acts the two of you have performed together have brought shame on your mother, on your sister, and on me. You obviously don't care for our family tradition."

"I CARE!"

"You have chosen this boy over the Tomb Keepers." Marik's father spat as he pressed the sharp blade to Bakura's throat, watching cruelly as Marik immediately ceased his struggle, shaking as he bit back the pleas he knew would only incite the man further. His father shook his head and pulled the knife away.

"Watch this, Marik. Don't you dare take your eyes away." The man hissed. Marik shivered at the ice in his voice. "If the pride of our people is not enough to keep you from partaking in these disgusting activities, perhaps watching me mutilate your lover is."

Bakura's eyes widened in something akin to fear before sucking in a deep breath and closing his eyes, bracing himself. Marik's father held the tip of the knife to Bakura's temple, pressing just hard enough to make the indentation, then-

"NO!"

Marik bolted upright in bed, his breath coming in wild, spasmodic gasps. He clutched his thumping, bare chest, shaking too hard to think rationally. Breathing in deeply, Marik forced his muscles to relax and felt his breath and heart rate slow considerably. He reached over to the other half of the bed, his fingers falling through the air and coming to rest on the soft material of the bedsheets. His heart sped up again, his hand frantically moving around the empty space, searching desperately for something he knew was not there.

Bakura.

Bakura wasn't there.

Bakura was gone.

Marik reached up and grabbed a fistful of his own hair, pulling on it as his jaw clamped down on his knuckle. It suddenly didn't matter that his father was dead; had been for five years. In that instant, he became completely convinced that his father had somehow risen from the dead for the sole purpose of coming after him and stealing Bakura away from him.

"No…" He moaned to himself as he clutched his head, trying to rationalize with himself. "No, no, no…"

His father was dead.

Bakura was gone.

His father was dead. Couldn't touch Marik anymore.

Bakura was gone.

There was no way he could come back. No way he could kidnap Bakura from their bed.

Bakura was gone.

Marik closed his eyes, attempting to calm himself again. It didn't work. Every time he tried to think of something-anything-else, the only thing that entered his head was a messy picture of himself, crying hysterically over Bakura's broken, bloody corpse.

Bakura…

"Marik?"

Marik jerked his head up, feeling his grief and anxiety abate as he saw the figure in the doorway.

His light blue sweatshirt was wrinkled, torn at the left sleeve. He had a pair of Marik's lavender boxers on instead of pants, and his pale, silvery hair was rumpled. But Marik didn't care. The sight of his lover was beautiful to him.

"Bakura…" he breathed, tears coming to his eyes.

"Bloody hell, Marik, can't I use the toilet for five minutes without you freaking out?" Bakura scoffed, though there was no real venom in his voice. He walked over to the side of the bed, slipping his bare legs under the sheets as Marik immediately threw both his arms around his waist. Bakura sighed, returning the embrace.

"Another nightmare?" He murmured, his lips ghosting over Marik's ear. Marik squeezed his eyes shut and nodded.

"It was my father. He was torturing you."

Bakura closed his eyes, his fingers lightly tracing the scars on Marik's back. Marik moved his body, moving his hands to Bakura's face and examining it for wounds he knew were not there. Bakura opened his eyes again, but kept his hands around Marik's upper body. "Well, that's all a load of bollocks. I'm fine. Quit dreaming about him."

Marik laughed bitterly, moving his hands down to clutch Bakura's hips as they rested their foreheads together.

"I can't. Bakura…what we do together…it goes against everything my family has ever believed in. If my father were still here-"

"He's not here, Marik." Bakura interjected. "Your father is dead. He can't touch you or me. Believe me, no one cares what we do in bed. It's not like your army of Steves are all homophobic." He pulled back from Marik's embrace to look his lover in the eye, an utmost serious expression on his face. "Besides, your brother knows about your gayness, and he's accepting."

"Rishid is accepting of anything I do."

"And I'm sure Ishizu will find a way to get over it once you finally work up the balls to come out to her." Bakura finished, ignoring Marik's comment. Marik groaned, allowing his body to drop onto the bed. Bakura followed, positioning his body parallel to Marik's. Their hands quickly found each other, both of them wrapping their arms around the other's body. Once Bakura was safely lying in his arms and he in his, Marik allowed himself to kiss his partner, closing his eyes in contempt as they broke apart.

"I just don't know what I'd do without you." Marik sighed, his hand running up and down Bakura's side. He heard the small noise Bakura seemed to make from the back of his throat whenever Marik seemed to get too 'mushy' with him, and was quick to follow up. "I mean, I obviously can't run the Evil Council without you, not to mention I can't cook to save my life."

"Yes, you're right. Either Zorc would destroy you or you would keel over from hunger."

Marik nodded, a small smile appearing on his lips as the two boys laid there in each other's arms. Finally, Bakura tipped Marik's chin up, pressing their lips together. Marik kissed back, happy to be touching Bakura again. His hands wandered up underneath Bakura's sweatshirt, fingers gripping at the fabric as he tried to restrain himself from tearing the material separating the two of them right off his lover's body. He grasped the hem of the shirt, moving it upwards. Bakura maneuvered his arms, and, after breaking apart from their kiss for a brief second, the shirt was off. Marik tossed it onto the floor, not caring in the slightest where the accursed piece of fabric landed.

Now free to touch Bakura wherever he wanted, Marik resumed their making out with renewed vigor, attacking Bakura's lips nearly violently as Bakura opened his mouth and allowed their tongues to dance. Marik's hands slid up and down Bakura's torso, finally allowing one hand to curl around Bakura's waist as he moved to hover over the boy, using his other hand to hold himself up. Bakura, apparently deciding he didn't like the mere inches of empty space separating him from his bronze-skinned lover, grabbed hold of Marik's shoulders and roughly pulled him down. Marik smiled, keeping his hand around Bakura's waist and bringing the other over to rub Bakura's sensitive nipple. Bakura broke away from their kiss, gasping.

Marik's smile widened at the sight of Bakura lying beneath him, face flushed as he panted. He brought two fingernails together and gave the nipple a hard pinch before resuming his rubbing, bringing his lips back down to the pale boy beneath him. Bakura kissed back, moving his hands to Marik's sweatpants, grasping the waistband of both the pants and underwear and pulling them down in one swift motion. Marik took his hands off Bakura for a brief moment, just long enough to slide his meager clothing off and, after looking down at his pale, flushed lover lying in their bed with his legs spread, reached down to tear off what was left of Bakura's clothing.

Now satisfied with their nudity, Marik lied down on top of Bakura for a moment, their arms encircling each other as they closed their eyes, listening to each other's heartbeats.

Then, Marik turned his head to face Bakura, who immediately extended his neck to meet Marik's lips. Marik kissed back, allowing his hands to travel downwards as Bakura wrapped his legs around his lover.

When they were both done and one of them-he couldn't remember which one-had pulled the covers up over them, Bakura was lying on his stomach and had his face buried in Marik's shoulder, one arm splayed across his partner's sweaty chest. His breath was slow and even, but Marik knew Bakura hadn't fallen asleep yet. His arms instinctively came up and wrapped around Bakura's lithe form, burying his nose in Bakura's fluffy white hair and inhaling the unique scent he had come to know as Bakura.

Marik felt nothing but utter peace and contempt as he thought about how his life had turned out after his escape from his father's iron fist. His father had intended him to carry on the Tomb Keeper legacy, no doubt spending the rest of his life underneath the sands of Egypt, never once seeing the sun. He would have gotten married to some woman, despite Marik's lack of interest in the opposite gender, and produced babies with her at least until she spat out a son, who would take his place on that stone slab on his tenth birthday as Marik himself carved those terrible symbols into his back. And the cycle of misery and despair would continue.

It was all so fucked up.

But his life had improved drastically after that first outing into the outside world he took with Ishizu. Now, he had an army of Steves at his beck and call, not to mention he was president of the Evil Council. Both his brother and sister lived close enough to walk, and he visited with them often.

And he had Bakura. Bakura, while telling Marik to never refer to him as his boyfriend, had agreed to move in together into a small two-bedroom apartment in a city less than two hours from the secret hideout they held their Council meetings at. They both slept in separate rooms for about a week before their lust got the better of them one night during a rare Egyptian rainfall. Bakura had quickly moved into Marik's room after that, leaving the second bedroom unused.

And from that day on, they fucked nearly every day. Sometimes several times a day. Marik topped most of the time, but they occasionally switched positions for fun. They experimented with light bondage. Bakura even indulged Marik in his ice cube fetish, though Marik had felt quite awkward bringing the subject up with his lover. Bakura had laughed in his face when Marik told him about his kinky pleasure, but had participated in the icy foreplay anyway.

Bakura was, for lack of a better word, perfect. Perfect for Marik, anyway. The two were chaotic best friends in public, personalities clashing in a fiery battle that neither ever really won. They fought about typical roommate things, such as dinner or the state of their bathroom.

And as wonderful as their lives were as roommates, they were better as lovers. On most nights, as soon as their apartment door was shut tightly and bolted, their playfully hostile mood turned to one of steamy passion with a hint of pure romance. Marik could think of several days where they hadn't even made it out of the kitchen/living room before they began to fuck, sometimes doing it on the couch or as Bakura was bent over the kitchen table-or, on one memorable occasion, on the floor, maybe a step away from the door. Marik remembered that day fondly, when he had just had barely enough time to slide the bolt through the door before Bakura pounced, tackling him to the floor as the two practically ripped off each other's clothes. And Marik had fucked Bakura right there on the floor, feet away from the very people they tried so hard to hide their…alternative lifestyle from.

They screwed like rabbits. Fucked each other like the horny teenagers they were. And Marik was happy.

He closed his eyes and breathed in Bakura's smell, the gears in his mind turning. Obviously, the ghost of his father, whether he was real or lived inside Marik's head, did not approve of Marik's lifestyle. This normally wouldn't have fazed Marik in the slightest, but something disturbed him about the inclusion of Bakura in his nightmares.

He knew his father, were he still alive, would never condone his feelings for someone like Bakura, any attraction to someone with a dick instead of a vagina and breasts. If he had ever had the slightest of suspicions that Marik was gay, he would have beaten it out of him. He never allowed anything to get in the way of Marik succeeding him as Tomb Keeper, and a love affair with another man would be no exception.

Marik knew that if his father was still alive, he would kill Bakura. Most likely in the most drawn-out, painful way imaginable. All in front of Marik. And even though his father was dead, he was in charge of the Tomb Keepers, and what was left of his family was (or would be) perfectly accepting of Bakura as Marik's partner, the thought of Bakura at his father's mercy still terrified him.

Perhaps it was only because he could never stand to lose Bakura, and his death at the hands of his father was the only plausible scenario Marik could think of for the end of his lover. Few other people would be as committed to killing Bakura, as everyone who knew him as an evil villain also knew his host, Ryou, and wanted to avoid hurting him. And an even smaller group of people would actually have the ability to do the job. Marik didn't doubt that whatever situation he was thrown in, Bakura could find a way to fight off or outsmart whoever he needed to to get free.

Marik hoped that Bakura never found himself in a situation where he couldn't do either, because really, Marik couldn't fathom living without Bakura in his life. Yes, he was sure that, in the event of Bakura's death, he would eventually heal, maybe to the point where he could smile every once in a while, maybe come to enjoy a bit of life's pleasantries again. But Marik was sure that, if Bakura ever did die, he would always feel the empty place in his life that Bakura had filled.

Bakura was everything and more to Marik. He was his partner in crime, his constant companion, his best friend. He was the one Marik knew he could unload whatever was in his head on and would probably respond with several blatant insults, but would listen nonetheless. He was the one Marik could always count on to figure out his problems, he was the one who would always make things interesting if Luna and Umbris started talking about their moon fantasies in the middle of an Evil Council meeting.

And after the lights went out, Bakura was his lover. He put up with whatever kinky foreplay Marik felt like indulging in, and was always willing to try some new position or something one of the two found on the internet. Sex with him was amazing. It was rough and beautiful, love and hate held together, creating friction until they both caught fire.

It would all be gone if Bakura was taken away from him. The brazen humor. The companionship. The sex.

A sigh. Outside, a cloud moved over the moon, taking away their silver light. Marik pulled Bakura closer.

Marik knew he couldn't handle that. He couldn't handle losing Bakura. He would never be able to let go of their friendship, their lust, their l-

The gasp was nearly silent, a short intake of breath, air whizzing past Marik's white teeth just fast enough to create sound. Bakura twitched slightly, adjusting in Marik's arms as he moved onto his side, head still resting on Marik's shoulder, still facing him. Marik hardly noticed. He was too busy getting caught up in his own thoughts.

He had never thought the word until then. Sure, he danced around it, coming close, going in circles around it to avoid saying that one word. That one irresistible, forbidden word.

Bakura had told him to never say it. He said they could never be a couple, only friends who fuck. He was determined to stay single; he would commit to Marik, would not date or screw anyone else, but would absolutely not become his boyfriend. That was off-limits territory. No dates. No hand-holding in public. No celebrating Valentine's Day. None of that. Their relationship beyond their friendship was about sex. Just sex.

And at the beginning, Marik was fine with that. That's all he cared about. Bakura was and always would be his best friend, and Marik got to fuck him every night. A perfect win-win situation, a relationship most guys would kill to be in.

But lately Marik had started to notice…changes. When they were out to eat, he found himself wanting to reach out and touch his best friend's face, act cute like the girls did with their boyfriends, completely ignoring the fact that Bakura would kill him with a butter knife if he tried to act like a love struck fangirl, in public no less. Whenever they walked together, Marik would bang their hands together subconsciously, as if ready to grasp Bakura's slender hand, hold it in his as they strolled along. Marik found that he wanted to claim Bakura as his, let the world know that he and Bakura were together and he was damn lucky to have someone like him.

And the nightmares.

He lost Bakura to his nightmares nearly every night, and every single time it stung him like a poisonous jellyfish to his heart. The pain, the hopelessness, the fear never diminished. Each time he witnessed Bakura's death in his dream world it felt like someone had taken a knife and carved out his heart. He could only hope to wake up before Bakura's final moments and spend the rest of the night clutching his lover as if the world depended on it.

Marik bit his lip. He couldn't deny it. He had the word for what he felt for Bakura, the perfect word and he was determined to use it. And who knew, maybe Bakura's feelings about it had changed. Maybe he returned it. No, Marik was sure Bakura returned his feelings. He just didn't know if he would admit it.

But then, it didn't matter what Bakura said. Marik knew he felt it.

Marik peered down at his lover. To anyone else, they might say he was peacefully asleep. But Marik knew Bakura slept little, for he was plagued by his own set of nightmares he never shared.

He brought his mouth to Bakura's ear, brushing away the excess fluffy hair. "Bakura." He breathed, so quietly he was worried that Bakura hadn't heard him.

Bakura didn't react in the slightest, his eyes stayed closed and he remained motionless, except for his lips. "What is it, Marik?" He growled, half asleep. Marik closed his eyes, allowing a smile to dance upon his lips as he tipped his head forward, resting his forehead against Bakura's temple. His mouth was close enough to Bakura's ear that he could nibble on it if he had been in the mood. As it was, Marik was content to lay there for a moment, eyes remaining sealed shut as he opened his mouth and whispered.

"I love you."

Bump. Bump. Bump.

OKAY! I GUESS PARTS OF IT AREN'T THAT TERRIBLE! (That was my beating heart, if you couldn't tell.)

I seriously had doubts about posting this. It started off as a little thingy I was writing for fun. I've had some serious writer's block and haven't posted anything on this site in about two months.

During those two months, my friend showed me the Leather Pants video, which started me on my Yu-Gi-Oh abridged kick. Now I'm obsessed. I've started watching the Japanese episodes as well as the dub, (God, I watched the show as a kid but stopped after the Duelist Kingdom arc...I didn't even know who Marik was until recently...) and one night I was lying in bed and BAM! I had an idea. This wasn't it. It was a Bakura oneshot, where he thinks about his immortality and his feelings for Marik. But since my mind is strange, it had to fill in what happened right before Bakura's angst.

I'm still writing Bakura's ramblings, and that will probably go up as another oneshot. Because I don't want people to think of the two as one continuous story...just two oneshots that are loosely connected.

So yeah, Abridged universe, but Marik is being serious so he underwent a personality change. And Hank Ishtar isn't in his abridged character...because I hate what LK did with him. Seriously, I thought it was funny as hell and wouldn't want him to change it, I just like the real Mr. Ishtar character better. I feel like it adds so much to Marik's backstory.

Well, that concludes my ramblings now...is my writer's block finally cured?!

Reviews would be appreciated, even if they are just to tell me how out of character everyone is.