Seriously... why the hell was he dressed in this? He glanced down at his pale skin and furrowed his eyebrows. Did the Gods seriously put him back in his host's body?!

He glanced at his chest. No. Not quite. There wasn't a Millennium Ring hanging around his neck. So, what the hell was this body?

He glanced around, biting back a groan when he saw the apartment complex up ahead.

Of fucking course.

Well.

Might as well get this over with before he figured out what to do with himself.

After a good ten minute walk, Bakura stood outside of Ryou's apartment door. At some point, he had tossed the leather coat into a dumpster. It was too damn hot outside for it.

He felt a brief flutter of unease. He braced himself for the inevitable and rang the doorbell.

He had no idea how to flirt. He's just going to stare intently at Mariku and hope he gets it.

It's just two people who don't know anything about flirting staring at each other waiting for something to happen.

Well, really, Mariku is wondering why Ryou is staring at him so intently. Is there something on his mind? Should he ask? Mariku regards him curiously, as if solving a puzzle in his head. Then, he leans in, like getting closer might help put the pieces into place.

The first thing Bakura heard were the screams and bangs of the khopesh as they sank into human flesh. He was small again; a frail but horrified child hiding in the shadows to avoid being seen.

His mother had ushered him to a hidden compartment in their home to prevent him from being taken. It wasn't long after that she had been dragged away with his sister. His father had been slain only moments prior from protecting their home. He heard his family's screams echo through his ears as they were cut down. Then there was the sickening sound of their bodies being dragged away.

The stench of death was heavy in the air as well as choking smoke from the homes that were caught on fire.

The child in him wanted to know where their bodies were being taken. He snuck out of his hiding spot, keeping to the shadows as he followed behind the soldiers. He saw the trails of blood over the sand and stone; his family's blood.

Why did he have to see this shit again...?!

Bakura felt like his head was splitting in two. He was caught between the memories of his childhood mixed with the emptiness that came with being without the Dark God. Zorc was the only thing that kept these memories locked away for him. Now, there was nothing holding them back any longer.

One by one, he watched in utter horror as each body was tossed into the giant boiling cauldron of molten gold. The solders called them thieves and tomb robbers. All Bakura saw were shop keepers, stone masons, bakers, mothers, fathers, and children. Family. His family.

They were tomb builders who served the Pharaoh. What did they do to deserve this?

Suddenly, his visions took a turn for the worst.

"You there! Looks like we missed one!"

Bakura froze up immediately, looking out at the soldiers with a look of anguish on his face. He tried to run only to be grabbed by his wrist. He began to struggle, kicking and punching with strangled yelling.

It was to no avail. He was only a child.

Soon, he was being pulled up to the cauldron. He could feel the heat of it stinging at his flesh. He stared down at the boiling gold, seeing a hand popping out of the molten metal and reaching for him. Then, finally, he was being tilted over the railing.

Just before his body was dropped in, everything went black.

------------------------

Bakura shot up in from the couch with a strangled scream leaving his mouth. His eyes were wide, haunted and unseeing as his body trembled from head to toe. He curled in on himself, wrapping his arms across his chest and digging his nails into his own skin.

The visions kept playing over and over in his head. Blood, smoke, fire, boiling gold, blood, smoke, fire--

Suddenly, Bakura's stomach lurched and he scrambled off of the couch to run to the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet before he was heaving up the contents of his stomach.

He hadn't even realized that there were tears streaming down his face until his cheek hit the porcelain of the seat.

Bakura groaned loudly the moment he saw the lights flick on. He promptly buried his face into the nearest pillow. He blindly reached for the pull blanket and dragged it over himself.

"Well, how the hell else will people know to improve themselves if someone doesn't point it out?"

@ryobumbratio said: "You are not bringing anyone back to the apartment, so help me-"

sleep starters / @ryobumbratio

"Mmmfh." The answer is yes, but Mariku really can't find it in him to complain. Even as he blinks blearily, he can feel Ryou sitting straddled across his lap, and the look on Ryou's face speaks quite clearly. Who would be mad to wake up to this, of all things?

manhandling starters / @ryobumbratio

It started out innocently enough; as innocently as it could have. Mariku's lips pressed against Ryou's gently, as though he were afraid he might go too far too fast and frighten him off, a hand lightly caressing Ryou's cheek. But the way Ryou kissed him back, tongue slipping between his lips, brushing against his pointed teeth, his hand grasping at Mariku's hip and pulling him suddenly closer...

And then there was Ryou's hand in his hair. Fingers threaded through blonde strands, curled into a fist, and pulled. Roughly.

Mariku let out a hiss that faded into a groan, and almost on instinct, his body pressed forward, trapping Ryou between his figure and the wall behind. Ryou's force, the tug at his hair, triggered something in the back of his mind like a wild animal awakening from sleep, and he surged forth into another kiss, rougher, desirous, desperate.

When the kiss broke, it was only so Mariku could drag his teeth down the side of Ryou's throat, fangs nipping hungrily at soft flesh, leaving marks all along his neck, down to the soft skin at his shoulder.