At first, Marik was slightly startled to see his lover's former host at his door.

"It was in my pocket," Ryo said, his voice still a little hoarse as he stood in Marik's room on the boat, a little fidgety around the taller boy. "I know you gave this to…to him…I was wondering if you wanted it back." He bit his lip and dropped a ring into his hand. "To remember him by."

Marik's breath caught as he stared at the cheap band in his palm. It was almost too easy, he thought as he turned it over, the small carved eye rough under his fingers. There was a strange, impatient feeling about it, a presence that made his heart pound. "It's your ring," he said, forcing himself to remain calm. "I'd rather you keep it, to be honest."

"Are you sure?" Ryo asked. His expression was too trusting as he let Marik take his hand. It was too easy. He smiled and slipped the ring on his finger, watching as the subtle changes took over the figure in front of him. His eyes shifted and faded, taking on a tired look. The red tinge that usually occupied Bakura's eyes was dimmed, though his gaze wasn't completely without it's usual intensity.

They stared at each other, neither quite registering any surprise.

Marik cleared his throat."I thought you were—"

"I didn't like where we left things," Bakura interrupted swiftly. "At all."

"Nor did I," Marik admitted. "I had hoped to catch you before, but I wasn't fast enough."

Bakura was agitatedly twisting the ring on his finger. "That doesn't matter now," he said. "I don't know how long I'll have…this is far from a permanent bond."

"You should have expected that," Marik said coolly. "I got that ring from a vending machine, of course it's not going to last forever."

"I don't want forever." He was surprised to hear that Bakura's voice was shaking, his fists clenched. "Not anymore. I was there. I finally had my chance to take my revenge on the pharaoh, and I failed." He stood hunched over the small table by the window, glaring out at the Nile flowing past them. "It was the last chance I had, and I blew it to fucking pieces!"

He sank down into the chair, his eyes hollow. "He won…the pharaoh won…and now he's off to claim his reward. And what do I get? My people will never rest…And neither will I…" He rubbed his eyes forcefully, resting his face in his hands. Marik watched him with uncertainty. This was the side of himself Bakura had held back for so long, and it scared him a little to see the spirit this way.

"Is there anything I can—"

Bakura cut him off with a shake of his head, raking his fingers down his face as he stared blearily over at him. "I'm tired, Marik. Living so long for one purpose, and then having that purpose disappear…there's only one thing keeping me here anymore."

"I see…" Marik murmured. "So, how long do you have?"

A shrug. "Days, weeks, months….perhaps years."

"Like any of us," he remarked. "And how are you going to spend the rest of your time on the mortal coil then?"

A flicker of Bakura's old smile ran across his face. "Not sure yet," he said, wandering over to the bed. "But I know how I'd like to start…"

"Oh?" Marik raised an eyebrow. "And if we're overheard?"

"Do you think I give a fuck?" Bakura sat down beside him on the bed, tracing an invisible line across his shoulders and making him shiver. "Three-thousand years of living has been enough to at least erase any shame I had in what—-in who I want."

"Even after all the things I said to you before I left?"

Bakura nodded. "You feel the same?"

Marik hesitated before breaking into a smirk. "I don't see why we're still talking about this," he said. He turned and pounced, pinning him to the bed as their mouths slammed together. They clung to each other like men adrift, scrambling to get a better grip. Clothes tore and fluttered to the ground as they fought to banish every stab of loneliness from their past months apart. Every angry word was revoked, every quarrel dissolved in the veil of sweat and friction.
They rolled off the bed with a loud thunk, Marik untangling himself for long enough to run to the door and lock it firmly. His hands caressed Bakura's face, eyes boring into his as the spirit tugged at his companion's belt. He let out a low groan as a pale hand slipped down and began stroking, lips at his ear. Every soft pant of breath, every moan and mewl spelled out a clear message. I missed you…gods how I missed you…

Then he pushed him down onto the sheets, straddling his chest and covering him with short, sharp kisses. "Please…" his breathed, his eyes half lidded. "Marik…"
"What the fuck…are you waiting for?" the youth panted. "Take me already, damn it."

Bakura nodded, threading his hands through the blond strands of hair and pulling his head towards his cock. Immediately Marik's mouth was on, sucking fiercely. He shuddered as the long tongue ran along the shaft, wrapping around him like no one else's could. He let him continue for a few moments before pulling back, positioning himself in front of his once-partner in crime. His eyes flickered to Marik's impatient gaze before he pushed in, burying himself to the hilt. Marik let out a soft cry, stroking himself in time with the young man's thrusts, focusing solely on Bakura's face. There was a desperation to his movements, his nails digging into the bronze skin until they drew blood. His eyes were shut in frustration, his hips slamming violently against Marik's own. As if he could bury his failures in his partner if he just concentrated hard enough, even if it would only last for the moment.

Marik pushed back against him, crying aloud as Bakura pounded into him repeatedly. "I'm not going to last…much longer," he said, his breath coming in short gasps.

Bakura moaned in reply, riding closer to the edge with each passing second. His hand grabbed Marik's and pinned it to the bed, his eyes opening to gaze down at the man below him. There was still the strange desperate look reflected in them, sending shivers down Marik's spine. In that moment, as he looked up at the figure staring unblinkingly at him, he realized that every emotion Bakura had been hiding was there. The rage at his vengeance going unfulfilled, the shame of losing to the pharaoh, the fear of losing the purpose that had kept him going for millennia. But also there was a glimmer of triumph, of joy at having found someone—possibly the one of the only people who could ever understand.

Bakura gasped his name, release exploding through his veins. The Egyptian came a few seconds later, his partner's ragged breath sending him over the edge. The shorter youth pulled out and crawled over him, kissing him hard.

"Please," Marik murmured. "Don't leave me again…not yet…"

Bakura's squeezed his hand, the ring cold against Marik's skin. "I don't know how long I can stay…But for tonight, I'm here."

Marik smiled. "I'll take that…for the time being," he whispered. The room was quiet as they settled into each other's arms, just savoring the long-missed feeling of being together. There was still a lot to deal with, between the two of them. Bakura's hollow stare assured that, for a start. But for now, they were alive and together, and perhaps sleep would find them tonight. And that was all that mattered.

For now.