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“Thought you said the guard took ninety seconds to go for a whiz?”
“Well, excuse me for not physically watchin’ the guy go about his business.”
“Into that, are you?”
“Shut up.”
“Oh, after this…” Malik leaned forward with a small smirk – the one that had completely undone me ten years before. “I know a few ways you can.”
We were stood shoulder-to-shoulder outside a tall brick building – Malik “reading” a newspaper, me checking my watch. I hated when Malik was right and knew he was right. The guard usually took his usual minute-and-a-half for a piss, but he must’ve gone easy during supper tonight because he was coming back after barely fifty.
It was pitch black and the clouds covered the moon – if we were gonna do this, it had to be now or never.
“Ready?”
Malik’s voice was urgent, so I nodded and led him the long way back around the store. I’d scoped out the area for the last few days, so I knew the best place to sneak in and steal the loot with the guard none-the-wiser.
I could almost feel the jewels in my hand as we rounded the corner and sought the thin stream of light from the alleyway window. I hoisted Malik onto my shoulders – trying not to focus on his soft grunts or how his firm thighs tightened against my cheek – and breathed a sigh of relief as he made it through to the other side.
Just as I knew it would, everything was going as planned.
Things did not go as planned.
“You fuckin’ idiot!”
“Me? You were the one who gave faulty intel!”
“You gave the go-ahead on a hit we had no business doin’! Who made you boss, anyway?”
“Oh, c’mon… you love it.”
If I wasn’t bleeding from my damn shoulder, I might’ve laughed at Malik’s arrogance. But as it stood, we both heard the worry laced in each other’s voices – still felt the shock to our systems as several minutes before, when the guard had surprised us and foiled our robbery.
I’d managed to hold off the bastard long enough for Malik to climb out the window, without a chance to grab the smallest ruby or pearl. In the scramble, the old guard had shown his true stripes and lashed at me with a giant fuck-off knife, which I stupidly knocked myself with as I rushed off.
I didn’t even notice the pain until now, as we sat in the safety of our ratty hotel room. Of all the shit places Malik and I had stayed these last five years, this was by far the shittiest. Not as bad as what I’d been through as a kid, but between the moldy walls and the bed that creaked if I so much as breathed…
I wondered briefly if this was the type of place he might be, if he’d made it big, if he was even—
“All I’m saying is, the Thief King—”
“God, again with that bastard? Why don’t you go work on his side if you’re so in love with him?”
The room went too quiet. When I looked at Malik again, I didn't wince from the stab wound… but from the pained look on Malik’s face.
“Even for you, that’s a fucking low.”
Malik sauntered to the bathroom as I leaned against the bed in defeat. I was so strung out from the blood running down my arm and my master plan being foiled and memories from my childhood, I realised how I might’ve lashed out at Malik too much.
But fuck he never shut up about that damn Thief King – compared to him, we were stealing candy from a baby.
The Thief King legend had become known even beyond our circles, where you couldn’t go a day without reading about his exploits in the extra edition. Most of us operated in plain sight – careful enough to not get caught but to also have a mugshot in some cop’s book. But the infamous Thief King operated in the dark. No one had ever seen him or heard his voice. Some said he wore bright red, covered in the blood of his enemies. Some said he stole from the rich and gave to the poor. Some said he didn’t exist at all.
Whatever reality was, there was just one truth that mattered to me – that Malik, my partner in more ways than one, was obsessed with the Thief King. True, I teased him about it enough. But after everything that had gone down with us the last several years, after everything we’d sacrificed to get this far, after everything we’d done with each other, to each other—
A loud creak brought me out of my thoughts, and Malik reentered the room. With less anger than before, he locked eyes with me, adjusted my position on the bed and set an extra pillow behind my head. I creased my brow in confusion, wondering what the hell was going on and why my arm wasn’t getting fixed – until Malik removed his fedora, unclasped his vest and began to slowly undo his shirt button by button.
The mood shifted instantly. The pain suddenly vanished as I watched, mouth open like a guppy, while Malik discarded his sweat-and-grime-soaked clothes and straddled my lap – fully naked over my clothed body.
“Malik, what—”
“Shhhhh…” Malik dropped his voice to a whisper and spoke so close that I could feel his breath mingle with my own. Then he leaned down, rubbing gentle circles around the cut on my injured arm. “It’s superficial. I know what you really need.”
I begged to differ – until I instead nearly begged for sweet release. Malik bucked his ass right into my half-hard cock, which strained against my trousers. Even through the thick fabric, I could feel wetness seep through as Malik ground against me in a slow, torturous rhythm – fuck, the bastard not only knew how to get me going, he’d already gone and prepped himself.
There was a wanton look in Malik’s eyes as he attacked my neck with rough, open-mouthed kisses – sure to leave purple welts across my pale skin, which I knew got Malik going. I grasped at the sheets as he writhed atop me, trying my best not to grab his back in the heat of the moment.
Even at the height of ecstasy, my brain always remembered that little nugget of wisdom.
We never talked about it, even after being in each other’s lives for so long. All Malik ever told me was that he hated the way his back looked due to some sort of… accident? punishment? attack? His siblings were no help in unraveling the mystery – but really, after all Isis and Rishid had done right by me for a decade, it didn’t feel proper to ask any more of Malik if he wasn’t comfortable.
I focused on running my hand down his slim waist as he covertly undid my trousers and freed my throbbing cock. I was hot under the collar and even hotter under the belt, and holy shit just seeing Malik gasp as he lowered himself down made my muscles clench in all the right places.
“Fuck me, Malik…”
I meant it less like a command and more like a confession – the closest we ever got to voicing meaningful emotions. You’d’ve thought after ten years together – half of them spent robbing banks and playing “will they, won’t they” until one of us finally did – Malik and I would be more open, supportive, loving even.
But nah – Malik had his back and a fuckton of locked-away memories and I had my own issues that, even after my twenty-six years on god’s green earth, weren’t even close to being sorted out.
So, this was the closest we ever got – getting high off the thrill of stealing, making eyes and building up the tension throughout each day, taking out our frustrations, our fuckups, our furies on each other. By now, Malik knew my body like the back of his hand, and I knew every trick in the book to make him scream. Whether it was me or him on top, it didn’t matter – whatever got us both off quick and hard and in a pool of our own unspoken desires was enough.
Even if, tonight, I still wanted all that and more.
“God… already leakin’, ain’t you…”
I ran my thumb from my uninjured arm across a pearl of liquid oozing out of Malik’s cock as he bounced on me beat by beat. Each push down wrapped around me like a vice, sucking me for all my worth even at such a slow pattern – Malik never did things in half-measures. I made to move my hand away and enjoy the show, but Malik grabbed my wrist and held it in place.
“Stay… like that… like that… mmph…”
Malik let go of my arm and loosened his thighs against my legs, stretching himself open wider. I knew the angle of my cock now would be enough to stab him in all the right places, make him fall apart. With a well-timed thrust, I bucked into Malik’s body and reveled in the soft, shocked shit that rang from his lips.
I repeated the action again and again and again, until my body nearly gave out. For the final act, all I could do was stare in awe as Malik smacked his ass hard against my groin at lightning speed – his glistening face upturned to the ceiling, his mouth a silent ‘o.’
“Deeper, Bakura… Go fucking deeper… Not enough— fuck!”
Using the last of my strength, I grabbed Malik’s waist with my free hand to guide him up and down, and snatched a pillow to stick under my hips. Boy did that trick work its magic, because within seconds Malik’s low ahhhs had graduated to full-on wails. My cock felt like it was gonna burst just from the sights and sounds alone, never mind how fucking tight and wet and desperate the sex felt.
And even then, at the height of both our pleasures, when there was no turning back and we were clawing at each other’s skin and clothes… I still wanted to sweeten the deal before the big end.
“So pretty, Malik… So pretty… when you come for me…”
Look, I was tired, and my arm was starting to go numb from the stab wound, and god damn if I didn’t have the most beautiful man in the world riding my cock and pressing his own dick into my hand like his life depended on it. I was nearly done anyway and there was little chance at this point that Malik was gonna hear anything more sentimental in my words than “come for me.”
Which, not surprisingly, he did two seconds later – coating my thumb, which had never left its spot from earlier, in a steady stream of sticky, plump drops. Whether it was seeing the fruits of our fucking fulfilled or feeling Malik’s body relax in post-orgasmic bliss, I couldn’t help groaning a bit too-loudly as my body twitched and unleashed its heat into Malik.
Malik giggled and swiped back his tousled blond hair as I came, assessing me like a predator would prey. Not one second after my balls finished emptying, he pulled me up by my tie and kissed me hard with his swollen lips, tongue dragging against mine in a lip lock not of love or passion but more… insistence.
“So… still think I’m gonna run off and join the Thief King?”
I was so blissed out, I barely registered Malik's retort at the end of the kiss. Malik had a way of doing that to me – just like how he knew the best way to detach physically and emotionally from our conjugals right after we finished, so to speak. He stood and headed back to the bathroom, making sure his back was covered as he sauntered away. I could hear the bathwater slosh around, and resigned myself to falling asleep in my own mess, injured arm be damned.
Only when I woke a half hour later did I find my arm fixed up and Malik sleeping next to me – now clothed, and with a peaceful look on his face. I wanted to brush the hair off his forehead, pull the blankets over him… fuck, even kiss him as a thank you.
But instead, I turned over and tried my best to sleep – tried not to think about how, however much we did together and however long we’d been together, I was always gonna end up alone in the end…
“‘Kura.”
Back then, I should've known something was up as soon as I heard that too-familiar voice in all its small, confident glory. That selfish brat knew I was asleep, and he still wanted my attention!
Maybe if I’d just pretended a little longer, maybe if I’d just rolled over so he couldn’t see my eyes pop open… but “maybes” are for the lucky ones, ain’t they?
“Bakura!"
And that made me sit up almost immediately. Everyone else called me by my full name, but never him. We may have had similar names given to us by long-dead parents, but Bakhure always called me “Kura” to make us seem different. Reality couldn’t have been farther from the truth – and really, though I never told him for all the years we lived together… I wouldn’t have had him call me anything else.
But in that moment, all I could feel was pissed as I spat into the dark.
“What the hell, Bakhure? You’re gonna wake—” Only when my eyes adjusted did I pause and point at a bag next to me on the shaky bed. “What’s… that?”
Even under the moonlight coming through the windows, I could see the grin on Bakhure’s tanned face, struggling to hold in his excitement.
“I’m gonna really do it.”
Oh, fuck. I knew exactly what “it” was.
I mean, what boy didn’t dream of running away from everything he knew just because he could? Especially considering our situation – penniless, surrounded by proud assholes, trapped in a shit orphanage with no memories of a time before – I couldn’t blame the kid for wanting to take his chances on the streets.
And yet… I was also a selfish brat, and I didn’t want my friend – the closest family I had – leaving me here alone.
“Moron. That’s something you kid about, not something you actually do.”
I played off the panic growing inside me with a playful punch against Bakhure’s forearm. But when I got a better look at his bright lilac eyes staring at me with all the wisdom of his eleven years… I couldn’t help lowering my voice and leaning in to match his concentration.
“You’re serious, ain’t you?”
Bakhure’s smile had wavered, but now it came back full force as he placed his hands eagerly on mine.
“You can always come with.”
I nearly burst out laughing at the absurdity, but held my tongue so to not wake the witch of a woman who barely ran this “home.” I shook my head, running through the conversation we’d had tons of times before.
“We’ve got better chances waitin’ here for a—”
“Family?” Bakhure raised an eyebrow. He knew this damn script just as well as I did, just like how I knew the brat was stubborn and wouldn’t listen to sense from his best friend – from someone who even at this tender age knew he wanted to be more than just a friend… “You’re all I got, ‘Kura.”
Bakhure’s grip on my hands tightened and I nearly fucking cried at the feeling in my ribs. For all his tough talk – necessary for a pipsqueak his size – Bakhure was never sincere. And for all the will in the world, I wanted to stay with him, make sure he was okay and start a new life with him.
And yet…
“I can’t go.” I couldn’t explain to Bakhure how I had this gut feeling that one of these days someone was gonna come in, swoop us into their arms and take us into their home – and then, Bakhure and I would have a real family. Instead, I grabbed his wrist tight as a warning. “And you can’t either.”
“Really?” Always a tease, Bakhure reversed his wrist fast, so I had no choice but to let go. “You’re gonna have to find me first!”
I stifled a yelp as Bakhure ran out of the communal bedroom without a sound. I tried to match his steps, but damn if the brat didn’t have an advantage being so small.
“This ain’t a game! Stop!”
I made sure to call out once I felt safe from the prying eyes of adults. It was the middle of the night, but even then I could just see Bakhure’s silver hair make its way across the grounds – followed by a stream of bills flowing out of his bag.
Damn, the brat had made off with the stash from the witch’s safe? If I wasn’t so pissed at Bakhure running off like an idiot, I’d hug him on a job well done.
And only then, as his already-small outline grew smaller the farther away he got, did I realise what an idiot I was. I was almost at the edge of the property anyway – it would be so easy to just follow Bakhure and see what the world might hold for us, family or no family.
Bakhure was my family. And I couldn’t let him go without me.
“Bakhure, wait! I wanna—”
But it was too late. My body still ached for sleep and Bakhure was too quick. By the time I reached the wall which Bakhure had climbed with ease… I couldn’t see him anywhere in the foggy night.
I slapped my face to stop any oncoming tears – no use crying over a bastard who’d left me on my own – and made my way back in as quiet as I could. But when I returned to bed and pulled back my covers to find a poorly-scrawled-out note on crumpled paper… I finally allowed those same tears to flow in the stark background of a home I never asked for.
if you can’t find me… i’ll find you – b
Two days after our botched hit – and Malik fucking my brains out which dear god did better than any antiseptic for my injury – we stood at the base of a grand bank, all columned and stone and very regal. It wasn’t as ostentatious as the buildings back east where Malik’s siblings lived, but like hell this town wasn’t gonna try to make itself out as bigger than it ought to.
Their loss, really. Just meant it attracted more n’er-do-wells like me and Malik, looking to make a quick buck and an even quicker getaway. It just so happened that the bank was two blocks down from our hotel – and judging by the looks of the cops nearby, we’d win any race against them even with our legs tied together.
My arm still ached, but it was nothing a successful heist wouldn’t solve – if only Malik wasn’t so damn giddy about how we would go about it.
“Guess we’re doing this one the old-fashioned way.”
“You know I hate the old-fashioned way, right?”
“Not as much as you hate missing out on a decent meal.” Malik spoke matter-of-fact – probably worried that if he joked around like last time, history would repeat itself. He caressed my covered arm, unseen, and tilted his hat up with a rare look of sincerity. “Look, we do this one, we got a little for ourselves… and a bit to send back home.”
Home. That word felt so strange after the misadventures we’d had these last five years. Home had been an orphanage, a mansion, a hotel… with Malik… with Bakhure…
Of course, Malik didn’t need to remind me of the stakes – not after everything Rishid and Isis had done for me these last ten years. But I quietly appreciated the softness in his face as he talked about his siblings nonetheless. Even in the throes of bliss – which I’d be blessed to see more times than I could count – Malik so rarely looked content. I knew what this job meant for him, meant for us – yet I couldn’t go soft now, considering what’d happened last time.
“Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”
I shrugged my shoulders and pulled away to feel at the revolver in my pocket. Not even loaded – like anyone would notice in the heat of the moment. I hated to not just embrace the closeness Malik offered a little longer. But my sentimentality was quickly overtaken by that familiar rush of energy as we marched up the stairs, grabbed the handle at the same time and – on the silent count of three – erupted into the lobby like banshees.
“Hands in the air, folks! Purses, jewelry, wristwatches, cash… hand it all over!”
Malik took the lead, aiming his two revolvers at the closest patrons and signaling them to their knees. A single guard approached Malik but backed down as Malik fired his sole bullet into the air – a trick we’d employed before, and which somehow always worked.
While Malik gathered the guard’s weapon and any valuables he could pry from our victims’ fingers, I busied myself with the easiest mark behind the window.
“And you keep the keys to the safe where, missus?”
She was a brown-haired, conservatively dressed little thing, and I knew she’d do exactly as I said once I smiled wide and asked politely. Within moments, I was led to the back of the bank where the moderately-sized safe laid. After a bit of fumbling, it opened to reveal sacks and sacks of cash, all neatly piled as if they were just waiting for me and Malik. I began to sort through them, knowing Malik would be a while with the others – at least, I thought he would be, until I heard his voice ring behind me.
“Bakura!”
A panic swelled in me at his timbre. I spun around, gun in one hand, bag in another – and found myself face-to-face with a new, younger guard. He raised his gun and aimed straight at my forehead, about to sing me the riot act – when his brains splattered all over my face. The teller screamed. Malik ran toward me, almost discarding his loot… and I just stood there frozen as my life flashed before my eyes – my life with Malik, robbing with Malik, fucking Malik, traveling with Malik, meeting Malik, losing Bakhure—
“Bakhure?”
I don’t know why I said his name then. Maybe I was in shock. For some reason, a flash of red caught the corner of my eye and disappeared just as quickly… and it just felt like the night Bakhure disappeared.
But I came out of my daze as Malik smacked my face, hard. I remembered where I was, blurting out whatever came to mind first.
“I— I didn’t— It wasn’t—”
“Doesn’t matter.” Malik grabbed my hand, forgoing some of the cash as he led me toward the back. “Run.”
We didn’t stop running – I don’t think I even breathed – until we were back in the hotel. As soon as we entered Malik rushed around like a madman, grabbing whatever suitcases he could, stuffing them with our loot, thrusting extra clothes into my arms.
“It isn’t safe here.”
“Don’t be stupid, Malik. No one knows we’re—”
“Bakura.” Malik looked me square in the eye. “We gotta leave here. Now.”
I’d almost just died, yeah, but I couldn’t help throwing the clothes down in a huff and giving Malik what for.
“This is the best turf we’ve had so far! Atem and Kaiba’s cronies don’t bother us here, and the next town over ain’t got even half the prizes this one does.”
“But what about cross-country?”
Malik looked sheepish all of a sudden – almost like after the first time he'd kissed me, except far less endearing and much more suspicious. Malik and I may not have always been open… but we never kept secrets.
“What aren’t you tellin’ me, Malik?”
With a prolonged sigh, Malik reached into his jacket and unfolded a flyer.
“Caught wind of the news a few days ago. Y’know how the Transcontinental’s stopping by today? What it doesn’t say is that it’s coming in with some big prize and heading out east tonight.”
The flyer did indeed share the big event of the train coming by this very day. There wasn’t much excitement in these parts of the country, but a train was always a surefire way to lift people’s spirits. I could only guess that Malik – in his usual charming way, god damn him – had weaseled the intel out of some poor boy working for scraps at the station. I scanned the flyer once, twice, thrice – shaking my head each time.
“We’ve never robbed a train…”
“Hey, we’ve been through dicier before, right?” Malik leaned against me, trying to lighten the mood – before turning somber once more. “We’re too big here now. And I can’t… I don’t wanna lose…”
The almost-words caught me off-guard. For how sincere I’d been the last time we were intimate, I hadn’t expected Malik to throw the sentiments back in my face. It was almost funny, really – us dirty and barely surviving, in a mangy hotel room, hands joined together on the flyer like lovers… if Malik and I were real lovers, and not just friends who liked to suck face and fuck when there was nothing better to do.
I moved away before the heat from Malik’s body would make me do something I’d regret, and gathered the clothes off the floor with a flourish.
“Well… let’s pack then. Guess we got a train to catch…”
I waited. And waited. And waited. And even after that, I waited some more.
I saw other brats come and go in less time than I’d ever spent at the orphanage. Kids of all different shapes and sizes and colours and temperaments entered and exited the building faster than I could keep up with – leaving me in the lingering dust, more alone than ever.
For five years since Bakhure’s escape, I kept to myself – staring out the meagre, dirty windows, wondering what Bakhure was up to, if he was happy, if he’d even remember—
“Bakura!”
There was something different in the witch’s voice today. Immediately, I was brought out of my stupor – especially as the woman waltzed into the half-assed games room, leading what looked like a tall bald man and a woman with long hair and…
“I believe Bakura is close to your brother’s age, Mr. Ishtar.”
The first thing I noticed about the three strangers was how much they looked like Bakhure – dark skin, lean bodies… but damn did they look well-off compared to me. And the witch made sure to point out that very fact as she made to usher the strangers out of the room as quickly as she could.
“But as you can see, the boy’s skin and bones. He’s been here so long and, really, there are other much more suitable—”
“You play cards?”
Only then did I get a good look at the youngest of the strangers – and boy did I look. I assumed this was the aforementioned “brother” that was around my age, though there was something about him that seemed both older and younger than sixteen.
His blond hair was shiny and slicked back as if to make him look more mature, and he was dressed in a formal suit adorned with gold jewelry. But there was also a playful twinkle in his lavender eyes which entranced me almost as much as Bakhure’s had for years – so much so, that I almost forgot to answer.
“I, uh… kinda?”
I didn’t realise I’d been holding a set of cards until then – not until this new guy reached over and, as if on instinct, grabbed the King of Hearts from my hand. He smirked at it like he’d won a game with himself, then lowered his lids – and sultry voice – in what sounded like an invitation.
“Isis and Rishid aren’t too keen, but I could teach you… if you want?”
The forwardness nearly floored me – was this how rich people acted when they wanted something real bad? – but I kept my cool. Looking for a distraction, I settled on the boy’s lapel – where there lay a thick card with a strange gold bird in its center. I pointed with a smirk to match his own.
“Maybe if you trade me for that card of yours?”
The kid chuckled – more amused than offended.
“You’re a cocky bastard, eh?”
“Malik, manners!”
“What? I like him.”
The guy, Malik, looked up with a shrug of his shoulders to what must have been his sister. Then he whipped his card out and handed it over – as soon as our fingers touched, I knew there was no turning back.
Suffice to say, within a whirlwind of an hour I’d signed away my care from the orphanage to a new family – the Ishtars.
“So, does this mean we’re… brothers?”
Everything had happened so fast, I didn’t really know what to think of having a sibling – especially one like Malik who conjured up thoughts far less familial and much more… sensual.
“With the way you look? Kinda hard to say we’re related.” Malik scoffed as we drove away, avoiding my gaze as we sat in a new Model-T. Then, as we cleared the orphanage’s rundown gates and drove along a street with more people than I thought existed— “Honestly… I’d just be happy to have… a friend.”
Malik grabbed my hand on the word “friend” – though, I could see in his face the same confusing feelings that I felt in my chest… the same emotions stirred up so long ago by Bakhure, who I reckoned I’d never see again at this rate.
And as I caught sight of the King of Hearts tucked away in Malik’s lapel, where his gold bird card – now my card – used to sit, above his heart… I couldn’t help returning the gesture by twining his fingers with my own.
“Yeah… I think I’d like that, too.”
I really hated whenever Malik was right. Bastard was technically younger than me, but damn if he didn’t have a mind that always thought ten steps ahead.
Turns out, the best place to hide when you’re on the run is, well, out in the open. So, we ventured that afternoon with as few bags as we needed – mostly filled with stolen goods from the town – and braved the throng of people piling into the train station. I made sure Malik and I looked as inconspicuous as possible to avoid the cops roaming the area – in the end, it was nothing a good tip down of the hat and a pop of the collar couldn’t fix.
We made our way to the front and held out our legally-purchased tickets to be stamped. And right as we boarded, right as Malik fought to keep hold of our bags, right as I stepped onto the steel lift… I saw a man with silver hair peeking out of his cap pass our carriage. I did a double-take and nearly slipped down the steps.
“Having trouble there?”
I made to answer Malik’s teasing, but I was more focused on seeking out a face I hadn’t seen in almost fifteen years – but it couldn’t have been him, could it?…
“Bakura?”
Malik nudged me forward, probably worried that I was gonna cause too much attention to drift toward us. Only when we were safe in our compartment did he give me a look, half-stern half-questioning.
“Bakura, I need to know you’re alright to do this job. What the hell has been going on with you?”
I waved away Malik’s concern and stared out the window as the train began to move.
“It’s nothin’.”
I lied through my teeth, and I hated how it felt. But I knew I was just seeing things, making connections in my head that weren’t there.
Thankfully, Malik left it at that – we’d lived together long enough for him to know when I did not wanna talk. Instead, we busied ourselves for the next few hours by playing cards, watching the country whizz by, counting the stars when it eventually turned to nightfall.
And then… we made our way to the far back, where I’d already figured out our prize lay.
We brought our most important bags with us in case we had to make an unplanned getaway. The clothes were sacrificial – with this type of hit, we reckoned we’d be able to buy clothes for ourselves, and Isis and Rishid, for at least a year.
Someone must’ve been looking out for us that night because we saw no staff, no other passengers, not another living soul as we tread lightly down the wobbly corridor. It only took a few minutes to cross the plush carpet, like a road leading to paradise. But what we found at the end… was a door already ajar!
Malik and I looked to one another, speaking without words as our brains scrambled for an explanation. Sure, if Malik knew about this loot, there was a chance that others like us would’ve, too. But we hadn’t seen any of the usual suspects come on board, and there was no way any thief worth his salt would be so stupid as to head back here before now.
Tentative-like, we peeked our heads through the door – and nearly gasped when we saw a conductor’s uniform moving about with its back to us, stashing our treasure in its pockets.
No longer confused but incredibly pissed, Malik and I slowly unsheathed our revolvers and stepped into this final carriage, the door thud-ing behind us once we got inside.
“Y’know, I doubt the railway’s gonna look kindly on one of its own stealin’ from ‘em.”
I spoke first – all-too-pleased when the interloper froze in place like the red-handed thief he was. But then, the conductor chuckled, and god damn if I didn’t have a sense of déjà vu wash over me as the guy turned around with a casual shrug of his shoulders.
“Heh. Longest game of hide-and-go-seek ever… right, ‘Kura?”
Bakhure.
I was so in shock, I nearly dropped my gun. But I swear to god, I could not believe my eyes – that Bakhure, after all these years, had come back into my life… and here of all places!
He looked older, more mature, with a defined figure under that tight-fitting conductor’s uniform. But those damn eyes hadn’t changed in their mischievousness… or their ability to completely enthrall me.
Bakhure seemed less shocked and more amused – he didn’t move or betray an inkling of fear as he spoke.
“Whaddaya think, ‘Kura? I hid, I sought… and now, I reap.”
“Bakura, do you know this bastard?”
In all that was going on, I completely forgot about Malik, who still had his gun aimed steady at Bakhure’s heart. Like earlier, my life flashed before my eyes – two completely different lives colliding like a train wreck I couldn’t turn away from.
And to make matters worse, Bakhure now looked less amused and more… vengeful.
“Yeah, Bakura. Do you know me? It’s been fifteen years, after all.” Even though Bakhure looked barely taller than the last time I’d seen him, his whole demeanour towered over us – an intensity which I remembered well, which I respected so much, which had made me fall— “Well, lovely as this reunion is, I’ve got a train to leave.”
Bakhure saluted – more fitting of a sailor than a conductor clad all in white – and strolled toward the back of the carriage like he didn’t have two guns pointed right at him. But damn it all, I couldn’t even bring myself to move now, useless as I was. So, Malik stepped forward, rounding Bakhure and blocking his exit with a leer that could kill.
“Not with our loot you’re not.”
Bakhure chortled like Malik had just said the funniest thing ever. Then he leaned forward, almost standing on his toes as he assessed Malik.
“This is the best replacement you could find?” Bakhure scoffed, looking Malik up and down like a piece of meat – the way I had looked at him in secret for so long. “Guess he is kinda cute, but he ain’t got nothin’ on my charms or… other assets.”
“You fucking—”
Malik made to pistol whip Bakhure’s face – a long scar was already painted across his eye, I noted with a wince – but Bakhure evaded too fast. As if by magic, he flew backwards onto a set of nearby crates, landing perfectly on his feet. Malik cursed and tried to scramble to Bakhure’s level – before Bakhure, without breaking a sweat, performed a double flip forward and kicked Malik into the crates from behind.
Knowing that Malik had been attacked in his most sensitive area, I couldn’t help but break from my awe at Bakhure’s prowess – where the hell had he learned to do all that?
“Malik!”
I ran over fast. There was pain in Malik’s eyes as he recovered, but he hid it quickly with a sharp look in my direction.
“You gonna be helpful, Bakura?!”
I only realised then how I had my hand laid on his face too sincerely – too loving for either of our tastes. To fight the heat rising in my cheeks, I drew my attention back to Bakhure – who smiled like a bastard as he straightened out his uniform and made a dash for the exit on the other side of the carriage. Thinking quick, I grabbed at his hat, his sleeve, his coat – whatever was in easy reach – and engaged in the most dire game of tug-of-war since our time together at the orphanage.
Bakhure held onto the loot with one hand and pushed at me with his other, while his left foot was occupied with prying open the exit. All I could do was grit my teeth and hold on for dear life as we fought for dominance – my heart beating fast at the adrenaline, our proximity and how my hands were technically exploring skin I’d only dared to dream about.
“Bakhure, we staked this claim first!”
“This ain’t worth shit to you two! This is my way outta—”
“Thief King!”
But before either of us could be declared the winner – and before my embarrassing half-erection could poke Bakhure in the back – the carriage was filled with two rounds of gunfire. Instinctively, Bakhure and I broke away and made to hide.
And for the first time since our clandestine reunion… Bakhure actually looked scared.
“Oh, fuck.”
Bakhure barely breathed the words, but I could tell from his dilated eyes and lack of a smirk that something bad – something much worse than our fight – was about to go down.
And only then did I remember that Malik was still out in the open… and that the footsteps of whoever fired on us were coming closer and closer each second.
I debated whether to make a run for it and protect Malik, or stay hidden and hope my partner – my cocky, egotistical, beautiful, only partner – would fend for himself. But before I could decide, Bakhure did for me – stealing my gun right from under my nose and busting out from behind our hiding space.
Less angry and more intrigued, I almost looked up to see what was about to go down. But Bakhure didn’t even give me a chance for that. Not two seconds later, on those same featherlight feet that had evaded me fifteen years before, Bakhure fired one shot – followed by a thump upon the rocky carriage floor.
When I finally looked out, I couldn’t help gasping at how – with one perfectly aimed shot – Bakhure’s face and white uniform were now splattered all in red from the assailant’s blood and brains.
Malik looked just as shell-shocked, and for a moment none of us spoke – not of the loot, not of our meeting, not of whatever the hell had just happened. Eventually, the train’s whistle brought us back to reality. Bakhure tossed the gun back to me and looked down at the new corpse laying in his own filth.
“There’s more comin’. If you wanna live…” Bakhure looked between me and Malik, his face dead serious. “Run.”
Bakhure pushed past me, not even meeting my gaze. I rushed to Malik, helping him up – realising how close he’d come to meeting his maker, had Bakhure not intervened. But I didn’t have time to think about any of that now – not when Malik’s eyes went wide as he stared long and hard at the dead gunman.
“I know that tattoo. Those are Zorc’s men.”
“Zorc?! What the hell is he doin’ all the way out here?”
I couldn’t believe it. But Malik, as always, wasn’t wrong. In the middle of our attacker’s now-bloodied hands was the tattoo of an animal – all black, like a half-dragon half-snake. Its red eyes cut through the dead man’s pale skin, and it sent a shiver down my spine – especially with what I knew about the infamous Zorc.
Of all the gangs to not mess with, Zorc’s was at the top of the list. He mostly stayed out west, but rumour had it that his men were all over the country – spreading fear and terror into the hearts of even the most hardened criminals. Whether it was theft, bribery, hustling, murder… Zorc and his men did it all.
And especially given his reaction, especially knowing how tough times had been since the Wall Street crash, especially now that Malik and I realised that he’d been addressed by this dead man as the fucking Thief King… I had a bad feeling about what Bakhure had been up to for these last fifteen years.
“Bakhure?”
I noticed how Bakhure moved just a bit slower than before, as if lost in thought. I made to grab his shoulder to get an explanation, but he quickly swatted my hand away.
“Just… stay away from me.”
There was venom in Bakhure’s eyes but a hesitation in his voice – enough of a hesitation that I didn’t think twice about grabbing two of the more deluxe items Bakhure held in his hand, a large ring and scepter.
“Not if you want all the loot.”
Bakhure hissed in response and made to grab the items back, but Malik stood behind me with two guns pointed at Bakhure. I knew he wouldn’t hurt Bakhure at this rate – at least, I hoped he wouldn’t.
But then a series of shouts and more gunfire filled the nearby carriages – and Bakhure damn near lost whatever composure he had left.
“Bastard…”
Bakhure whispered under his breath, and I wasn’t sure anymore whether he was referring to me or someone else.
I could see the cogs in Bakhure’s head turn as he realised his limited options – until he growled in defeat and flung open the carriage door, right as it passed over a body of water. He gestured us over while I kept the two items close in my jacket and mentally prepared for the impact – there was only one way we were all getting out of this alive.
“On the count of three.” Bakhure sounded calm as the commotion drew closer, until it sounded right on top of us. I grabbed Malik’s and Bakhure’s hands, pleasantly surprised that neither pushed me away. Then, all of a sudden— “Three.”
None of us got the chance to scream before we were tumbling out of the carriage and into the dark night. The water washed over us five seconds later like a baptism, cleaning the sweat and dirt and sins of the last several hours from our bodies.
When I eventually gasped for air and found Malik washed up on the shore beside me, I was unsurprised to see Bakhure standing above us, shaking his silver hair so that it twinkled almost like the stars above.
“So… now we’re even?”
My attempt at levity didn’t play well. Bakhure just wrung the wet from his uniform – now a deep shade of red thanks to the combined viscera and water – and leered at me enough to break my heart.
“Even? Not even close.”
It was the middle of summer, so we didn’t have to wait long for our clothes to dry with the humidity and warm air that lingered even into evening. The same couldn’t be said of the cash Malik and I had stolen from the last town, which felt heavier and heavier the longer we carried it and the two items I’d snatched from Bakhure.
I almost grimaced in jealousy as, during our trek to the lights of a nearby city, Bakhure discarded his blood-dyed uniform, cleaned his face off as best he could and revealed a dapper burgundy vest and shirt combo, with matching trousers underneath. How he’d hid that away this whole time and done god knew how many gymnastics in the carriage, I had not a clue. But I was determined to find out.
A couple hours later, we reached the edge of the city – one Malik and I hadn’t hit yet, so we weren’t too worried about being recognised – and tried our best to blend in.
But Bakhure seemed to have other plans, because almost as soon as we stepped within city limits he whisked us down alleyways and grimy streets. Eventually, we reached an ominous door where he knocked three times in a weird pattern. Malik and I were too tired to argue otherwise, but kept our guard up as Bakhure exchanged a few words with another man on the other side of the door.
Two seconds later, we were in – and surrounded by the most buzzing boozer we’d seen since one of Isis and Rishid’s parties years ago. Dumbfounded by why Bakhure would want to come here of all places, we could only watch as Bakhure happily hopped onto a bar stool and slapped some bills down.
“Whiskey.”
Bakhure looked the complete opposite of how he’d been on the train – amiable, charming, grinning in a way that implied there were no worries in the world. His drink arrived and he downed it in a few minutes – ordering another immediately after. Whether this was a way to loosen up or somehow loosen us up, I was too confused to tell. Only when he’d had his third drink and realised how Malik and I were staring at him did Bakhure finally deign to acknowledge our presence with a self-satisfied smirk.
“Nothin’ for you boys?”
“We don’t drink on the job.”
I tried to be serious – tried to wrap my head around how I was sat here in a speakeasy surrounded by alcohol and jazz music and my alluring partner and… ex-partner? But Bakhure just laughed and waved away my concern like he was a parent reassuring a child.
“Relax. Zorc’s men won’t track us here.” Bakhure made a show of sipping slowly at his newest drink, then looked to the side where Malik was obviously staring in a way that didn’t make me jealous but rather… aroused. “My replacement’s a bit dewy-eyed, wouldn’t you say?”
“The replacement…” I spoke through gritted teeth, trying to ignore the strange feeling creeping down my body. “Is called Malik. Closest family I’ve had for the last ten years.”
I spat out the word “family” for emphasis – if Bakhure could give me grief for a choice he made years ago, there was no reason I couldn’t do the same.
But I couldn’t think about that now – not when Malik just kept staring and staring and staring at Bakhure, to the point where Bakhure finally looked fed up and tipsy enough to get annoyed. Instead of slapping his drink down, he calmly pushed it aside, sidled up to Malik and spoke in a low voice.
“You got a problem with me, Malik?”
Malik hadn’t said a word since we’d jumped from the train, but now he looked about ready to burst.
“You’re… him.”
Malik’s cheeks flushed red with excitement, and I rolled my eyes. Bakhure, meanwhile, looked at me in a near-drunken state of confusion.
“What the fuck’s he on about?”
“He’s crushin’. Seein’ as how you’re the Thief King.”
Illumination blossomed over Bakhure’s face and he bent over, laughing into his arm – at least, it sounded something caught between a laugh and a sob. Malik’s face just grew more flushed, and if we weren’t surrounded by all these people and my own childhood crush – figures Malik and I would have the same fucking “type” – I would’ve pinned him to the bar and taken him then and there. I nearly did, too – until Bakhure rose for air and leaned into Malik’s hot face.
“So… he’s never mentioned me once, eh?” Bakhure could be seducing or threatening and it would’ve sounded the same. His voice was sultry and conspiratorial, for Malik’s ears only – the vitriol under his words, he saved for me. “Never mentioned how I offered to take him with me when I escaped from that fucking halfway house? Or how I said I’d come back for him, and when I did—”
“Where the fuck did you go?!”
I couldn’t keep it in any longer. Whatever had happened to Bakhure, I needed to know. But when he finally looked my way with a – sad? lost? regretful? – look in his bright eyes, the answer nearly floored me.
“Circus.”
I bit my tongue, unable to believe Bakhure thought I was so stupid that I’d fall for that.
“Oh, please.”
I shook my head with a dark chuckle. But when I looked at Bakhure again, I could tell by his trademark intensity that, for once, he was in no mood for games.
“I trained at the circus for near seven years. Learned how to keep my wits about me. How to hide. How to trick the mind. How to kill.”
Whether it was the drinks that had loosened Bakhure’s tongue or something else altogether, all I could do was listen in astonishment. Then Bakhure lifted his shirt sleeves and unbuttoned the top of his shirt to reveal several scars – similar to the one over his right eye – painted across his tan body.
“Think these are all from some highwire act gone wrong?”
Bakhure’s voice sounded proud yet pained, and I wanted to reach out and touch the marks for myself just to see if they were real – as if touching him would fill the gaps we’d missed in each other’s lives. But Malik beat me to the punch – fitting, considering how they probably matched the scars on his own body.
Again, an all-consuming yearning welled up in me as I watched Malik tentatively trace the scars across Bakhure’s upper abs and along his biceps… the way I wanted to do to Bakhure myself, the way Malik had done to my arm the day before.
“You have so many…”
“Almost one for every kill.”
Bakhure locked eyes with Malik, answering his unspoken question. The world stopped as the only two people I’d ever felt close to exchanged a moment meant only for themselves. Several seconds later, that spell broke – and the same contempt from earlier reentered Bakhure’s voice.
“I came back for my family, only to find it’d left without a goodbye.”
I snorted and acted blasé on the outside – while on the inside, I just wanted to embrace Bakhure and never let go.
“So, what? You became a thief, a hitman… because I didn’t wait around?”
“Conman, too, thank you very much.” Bakhure tsked in mock upset that I’d forgotten a crime – as if I was supposed to just guess what he’d done for fifteen years. “When you’re sixteen and alone in the world, you do some stupid shit. Zorc gave me the closest thing to a home. In return I did… favours for him.”
“And, what, you’re too sensitive for it all now?”
“I want the quiet.”
Bakhure snapped with a conviction I’d never seen. He looked at neither me nor Malik, but rather at his near-empty glass, as if contemplating his own existence – as if confessing a long-held desire after so many years alone. The silence – despite the buzz and music all around us – grew too unbearable, so I spat out the first intelligent realisation I had.
“So, you wanted that loot from the train to start fresh. And Zorc sent his men to—”
“You’re talkin’ to a wanted man, fellas.” Bakhure downed the rest of his drink and wiped at his glistening lips with a nonchalant shrug. “Maybe even a dead one.”
“But you’re the fucking Thief King!”
You’d think with Malik’s volume that he’d been the one drinking. Several eyes turned our way and a few chairs rustled. Bakhure grinned fake-like and discreetly led us all to the back of the speakeasy – leaning on us for support.
“Yeah, let’s let everyone here know, why don’t we?”
I wasn’t about to ask why Bakhure was suddenly worried now, after having drank four shots of whiskey and being all chummy with the staff. But when he finally brought us to a small lounge area in the back and shut the door, I was more distracted by how genuinely regretful Malik looked – more than I’d ever seen in our ten years together.
“Sorry.” Malik sat down on a plush ottoman and hid his face in his hands, embarrassed. “I just…”
It was almost ironic, really. Since we’d started robbing five years ago, Malik had wanted to support his family, help them, make sure they were okay so they could keep up appearances and the lifestyle they were used to – especially after their unspoken childhoods. But eventually, the robbing became fun, the thrill became an aphrodisiac, the rewards led to us wanting to steal better, plan better, fuck better – and the Thief King became that legend on which Malik pinned all his hopes and dreams of being just as good.
So, to see him finally meet his hero, finally come face-to-face with the guy who’d driven him for so long, finally realise the Thief King was only human – and someone I’d known! – must’ve been making Malik feel some way.
And god damn… Bakhure, with all his intuition and experience picked up from his life on the streets, must’ve recognised that yearning in Malik, too.
“Hm. Maybe I pinned you wrong.” Bakhure loomed over Malik, though the gesture wasn’t threatening. Actually, it was almost tender, the way he reached a hand out and lifted Malik’s chin up so that they could stare at each other. “He is pretty damn gorgeous, ain’t he? I can see why you keep him around.”
“If anything, I keep him around.”
I had to say something, anything, to distract from my heart thumping in my chest and ears and entire fucking body. I only now realised how alone we were and how the way Malik and Bakhure were looking at each other was gonna lead to something sooner rather than later.
Bakhure laughed and – not breaking eye contact – caressed Malik’s cheek.
“That so? Brash and pretty. You made a good choice there, ‘Kura.”
The fact Bakhure had finally said my childhood nickname again didn’t even register. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from how Malik’s breath hitched and how Bakhure’s chest heaved and how they both looked ready to pounce on each other like the "kings" they were.
“Whatever.”
I put as much disinterest into my voice as I could and pulled my eyes away – not sure I was ready to watch whatever would happen next, knowing by now that it was a foregone conclusion.
“What? You wouldn’t deny a fella on what could be his last night alive, right?” Bakhure shifted his body, and I caught in my periphery how he knelt to Malik’s level – speaking right against Malik’s parted lips. “If you’re game, of course.”
If Malik looked at me for approval, I really couldn’t say. All I know is that, not two seconds later, I heard an unmistakable moan pierce through the jazz music that wafted down the hall. The sound of soft smacks and shocked breaths emanated to my left, intermingling with clothes shifting and a piece of furniture – probably that poor ottoman – being shoved.
I nearly laughed at the absurdity – lord shoot me dead if that’s how Malik and I sounded when we fooled around. A morbid fascination overtook me as the cozy room began to grow hotter and the voices by my side evolved from giggly to intense. I heard a rip echo in the small space – though whether it was from Malik’s or Bakhure’s clothes, I had no clue.
Then a zipper was pulled down in a sound of desperation, and the temperature in the room shifted from too hot to ice cold. A chill came over me as a lusty fuck was whimpered – and god help me, I couldn’t tell anymore whether it was Malik or Bakhure.
Half of me was more curious than ever to turn around and stop the torture of whatever image I was conjuring in my head. The other half felt fucking angry… but I had no idea why.
Yeah, two fellas didn’t have the decency to get a room before going at it, but it wasn’t like Malik and I hadn’t done any worse in our time – it wasn’t like I could tell him or Bakhure what to do, try as I had many times.
Nah, what really ground my gears… was how, right now, neither of them needed me.
“Oh, shit… right there…”
Yeah, it didn’t sound like Malik needed any help in touching my childhood crush and getting him off with his fucking perfect hands.
“Mmmm… that’s so… so good… Thief— ah!”
And it definitely didn’t sound like Bakhure had any trouble with instinctively knowing how to turn on my partner.
Just based on their voices, I could imagine how they looked – clothes in a state of half-undress, one of them straddling the other over the plush ottoman, hands exploring each other’s beautiful tan bodies so that it was impossible to tell where one began and one ended, lips and tongues tracing for a better taste, fingers clenching at faces and cocks…
“Fuck… Keep going!”
I was so busy trying to distract myself with some abstract painting across the room… I didn’t notice until that rapturous exclamation how the reflection showed off all the action happening behind me.
I wasn’t imagining the scene at all – I was watching it without even realising.
And fuck me, Bakhure was mid-stroke on Malik’s ruddy cock, caught at the edge of his own precipice… when the bastard had the nerve to call out my name.
“‘Kura… please…”
The damn “please” did it for me. I felt like a trapped moth heading toward a flame as I tore my eyes away from the painting. God, I was so glad I did… but at the same time, I wished I hadn’t.
Like I’d gleaned from the reflection, Malik was underneath Bakhure, grabbing hold of a nearby table leg for support as Bakhure pumped his cock in a steady rhythm. But what I hadn’t expected to see were Malik’s nimble fingers working Bakhure over with an equal amount of urgency – both men panting, Malik’s trousers half-off, Bakhure’s vest and shirt wide open, revealing even more scars across his smooth chest, and his cock… I hate to admit it now, but I couldn’t've stopped staring at his impressive manhood if I’d been offered all the money in the world. And to see it pressed against Malik’s familiar erection, fuck…
The sight was so breathtaking, in a strange way so holy, it was like something out of a Greek myth – or, in my case, a Greek tragedy, given how the two objects of my desire were indulging in one another with their eyes half-closed and breath bated and whimpers growing in volume with each stroke… while all I could do was watch like a statue, internally debating whether I wanted to leave or stay until the bitter end.
As he had earlier, Bakhure decided for me.
“C’mere… ‘Kura…”
Bakhure – obviously still tipsy – gestured me over with his lidded eyes, and I’d be damned if they wouldn’t be the death of me. I automatically knelt at eye level with Bakhure, and I could smell the whiskey on his breath so close, could see desire in his eyes as his attention went between me and Malik.
“‘Kura… I… I want—"
“Don’t stop… don’t stop…”
Malik sounded like he was uttering a prayer by now. His hair was splayed across the floor and his lean body was arched into the ottoman while Bakhure held him in place. If Malik’s back hurt, he sure didn’t show it because he kept repeating the same phrase over and over again. I knew he was close – after so long together, I could tell that in my sleep. Bakhure must’ve sensed it, too, because his focus went instantly back to stroking Malik’s shaft, squeezing the tip with every upward thrust.
“Touch us, ‘Kura…”
Bakhure looked far gone now, too. It would probably just take a few pumps of my hand on both their cocks to bring them over the edge – to play out some demented fantasy of being with two people who meant more to me than anyone else in the world. But then Bakhure's free hand weaved toward the back of my head, and his fingers clenched and unclenched in my scalp as he locked eyes with me, so focused on his pleasure…
And for a second, I almost went for it – almost grabbed onto Bakhure’s soft silver hair and kissed him after so long wanting to, almost leaned down to get Malik off with my hand or mouth or both, almost unsheathed my own raging hard-on to press against Bakhure’s arousal to see what sort of face and sound he’d make when he finished, almost—
“Yes, Bakhure, ye—”
Malik’s orgasm came as a complete surprise – mostly for Malik. He fountained across Bakhure’s open chest and convulsed hard, his mouth trembling in genuine shock as if he’d died and gone to heaven. And just as it dawned on me that I’d never seen that expression on Malik's face before—
“Malik…”
Bakhure exhaled as he came over Malik’s hand – less intense than Malik, but I swore it felt like he emptied himself for nearly a minute. Only toward the end, when Bakhure seemed to regain his surroundings, did he throw his head up and laugh in a way that almost brought tears to my eyes. Hand still perched behind my head, Bakhure looked down at Malik, who met his gaze with a dopey smile – a look shared between the two that I’d never expected on either.
I hadn’t even touched them as I wanted, but something about seeing both men together… sated… twining their long brown fingers, like Malik and I had in a Model-T years ago… sharing a moment without me…
“‘Kura… ‘Kura…”
I only felt Bakhure's lips and Malik's fingers barely touch my body before I tore away and ran out the room.
I couldn’t stay there a second longer – not with what had just happened… not with what this meant…
You could say that the first five years in my new home were some of the best I’d ever had – and that wouldn’t even be the half of it. The orphanage was all I’d known for so long, I never realised that there was an outside world. But boy, if you lived with a family like Rishid and Isis Ishtar, you sure learned quick how to live large.
They’d come over awhile back on the boats and brought some of that foreign wealth – and hospitality – with them. Until Malik and I were in our early twenties, it was nonstop parties, nonstop run-ins with celebrities and other rich folks, nonstop living in the big city of Domino like there was no tomorrow, prohibition be damned!
And then 1929 happened, and the stock market turned black – as wells as the skies, and the family which Malik and I knew deserved better.
“Hey, Bakura…”
It was after maybe the second or third time we’d fucked – not ever, just that day – but the tone in Malik’s voice sounded wistful less from mind-blowing orgasms and more from the world falling apart outside our large bedroom window… from the sound of Rishid and Isis going through the family heirlooms down the hall, arguing louder and louder with each second.
To drown out the noise, I teased Malik with the tip of my tongue against his neck.
“You can’t be up for another round already.”
Malik giggled and punched my chest in retaliation – before hovering over me with his mussed hair and a look that never failed to set the world to rights.
“Let’s rob some banks.”
A grin bloomed on my face, which made Malik smirk in kind. Not two minutes later, we were out of bed, dressed and out the door for the nearest vault in the city – leaving behind a note to tell Isis and Rishid how they wouldn’t have to worry about nothing ever again.
And so, for the next five years, we travelled the country, stole anything we could get our hands on and fucked around with life and each other – always me and Malik, always the two of us… until now.
From a young age, I knew my temperament wasn’t exactly the greatest. I learned quick that long walks alone were sometimes the best way to avoid breaking bones and yelling my head off at idiots who should’ve known better. At the orphanage I’d had Bakhure to calm me down, and Malik did his best to make sure I didn’t blow a gasket when something didn’t sit well with me. After so many years being on my own, after feeling abandoned by not just a long-lost family but also my best friend whom I wanted as something more… I knew when it was time to exit and think things over.
But tonight, try as I might, I couldn’t get the image of Malik and Bakhure out of my heads – the sights, the sounds, the sensations when what was happening to them was attempted on me… there must’ve been something wrong with my brain because I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what I wanted.
What was clear to me now, though… was what Malik wanted.
For so long, it’d been me and him against the world. Sure, he and I weren’t heart-on-our-sleeve types, but I’d like to have thought after everything we’d been through, talked about, done with each other…
But nah, it always came back to the Thief King. It always came back to Bakhure. The fact that they were one in the same meant little now. I saw how Malik had looked from the time we’d entered the speakeasy. I knew how he felt – sometimes better than he did himself. And what I definitely knew now… was that something had changed in us forever, and there was no coming back from it.
Malik didn’t need me anymore. Bakhure hadn’t ever needed me.
As always… I was gonna go back to being alone.
It wasn’t anger that welled up inside me, but I couldn’t quite pin the emotion. To stop myself punching brick and hurting my knuckles, I entertained myself by swiping a few trinkets from late-night passersby – a gold watch here, a few rings there, enough bills to fetch a one-way ticket home…
I stopped in the middle of the street when the fun of robbing wore off. Here I was, surrounded by all these god damn people, all these unassuming, normal people with their even more unassuming, normal lives… and I was no better than any one of them.
For the first time since the Ishtars brought me into their life, since I left the orphanage, since I went on this crazy journey with Malik… I had no clue what “home” meant. I thought it had been with Bakhure. I’d like to have thought it was with Malik. Even though I never said it to either… I wanted it to be with them, one of them, both of them – I didn’t fucking know anymore!
The streetlights were dimming and the cars were dwindling as the night grew longer. I figured the best course of action was to cut my losses and make for the nearest shelter I could find before it got too late… when a long black car suddenly pulled up beside me.
Something flashed in my periphery – almost-red eyes and sharp white teeth. I felt a hard smack against the back of my head, felt my body crumble under the weight of my own despondence…
And when I came to, I was strapped to a chair in the backroom of what looked to be an abandoned school. It was only a few steps down from what I remembered of the orphanage, but something about the environment set my nerves on fire like nowhere ever had before – especially when a deep voice sounded from the dark.
“You can dye your hair and bleach your skin all you want. I’m your family, Bakhure. And family…” A tall, muscular man dressed all in black stepped into the sole light, larger than life. “Knows family.”
I didn’t need to see the bastard fully to know who he was – Zorc. I almost stopped breathing as I sat there dumbfounded – I was with the legendary, infamous Zorc… and I wanted to fucking scream.
Whatever had hit me must’ve screwed with my eyesight, because I swore I saw dozens of cronies surrounding me as if to attack. I knew there were few options of escape, especially if Zorc lived up to his reputation. He was insane – and apparently crazy enough to think I was Bakhure!
I mean, sure, we had a similar smirk, hair, defiant streak, voice, hatred of authority, disposition – even shared a taste in men, apparently. But Zorc couldn’t really mistake me for one of his allies… right?
“Bastard, I’m not— ahh!”
No sooner did I try to speak, I felt my cheek burn like it’d been whipped by a cat-o’-nine. I saw Zorc stare down at me, his hand trembling in the scant light, as if he’d strike again without hesitation.
“God, you almost look like him. That desperate to rekindle the flame?” Okay, so maybe Zorc wasn’t the brightest tool in the shed. But in this game, smarts only got you so far. Zorc must’ve known that, because he didn’t hesitate to kick me right in the shins, hard enough to almost topple the chair. “After all these years… after all I’ve done for you… you still think about him! Is this how you repay me?!”
I winced against the pain, knowing whatever I said wouldn’t do jack shit. The cronies chuckled in delight, eager to pounce once Zorc gave the command – and yet the bastard apparently liked to hear himself talk, because he leaned down, grabbed my chin in his claw-like hands and stared me straight in the eyes.
“I’ve waited six months for this.” Zorc’s crimson stare bore into me. I couldn’t help the tears forming against my lids as he whispered close enough to feel his breath. “If it’d taken 3,000 years… I’d still make this long and slow just for you… Thief King.”
There was no saving me now, and I knew it. Bakhure may have thought himself the dead man walking, but I was positive that whenever they found my body weeks, months, years from now… they wouldn’t be able to tell whether I’d even been human.
Maybe I never had been to begin with. Maybe I should’ve tried acting like one sometime – taking risks with Bakhure, telling Malik how I really felt, being open and accepting and not just hiding away and being alone…
Now, I guess I’d never know – but that didn’t mean I couldn’t at least go out standing my ground.
“I’m… I’m not…”
“Of course you aren’t. You’d be nothing without me!” Zorc, of course, misunderstood what I meant. But with the way he gestured for a black knife lined with snake scales on the hilt, I supposed it didn’t matter much now. “Who do you think gave you that name… made you into the Thief King?”
And just as Zorc was about to rip off my shirt and skin—
“Me.”
A solitary utterance broke through the dark, spoken by a voice which nearly made me weep with joy. I could see confusion and slow realisation dance across Zorc’s and his cronies’ faces. They all turned around to see Bakhure standing at the edge of a large window – outlined by the moonlight like a bright god.
“I did it all by myself, Zorc. You just paid me.”
Zorc let out a snarl awful enough to raise the dead and gestured to his men to attack. Shouts echoed through the backroom – punctuated by a series of perfect gunshots, claiming a crony with each one.
And behind that skilled marksmanship was—
“Malik…”
This time, I couldn’t help the tears rolling down my bruised face. Like a Hollywood star with his action all planned out, Malik tore through the cronies with ease, not once flinching as he evaded attack after attack.
I couldn’t believe my eyes and ears, couldn’t fathom what was happening, it was all so fast. Bakhure and Malik were here, saving me… making sure I wasn’t alone after all.
In all the commotion, Bakhure dived down from the window ledge and flipped in mid-air, landing perfectly on his feet as Zorc approached. I tried to yell at him to run – hoarse as my voice was – but Bakhure and Malik looked to have a plan already. One revolver emptied, Malik grabbed two more from his jacket – as well as a white knife, which he tossed to Bakhure. Just as Zorc made to strike, Bakhure parried with ease.
I could only sit there and take in what was happening. Everyone seemed to have forgotten about me, which in this moment suited me just fine. As I watched Bakhure – dressed in his dark red get-up and moving with the grace of a ballet dancer or gymnast – go at it with Zorc, I remembered the shot guard from the day before, and how I’d caught sight of something right after… something which reminded me of Bakhure now.
Could it be… Bakhure had been looking out for me then, too?
But that was something I could check later. Right now, I sat stunned as more cronies fell from Malik’s bullets, until only Zorc himself was left standing. While Bakhure fought the brute of a man, Malik rushed over to undo my restraints. I gasped as I felt my wrists and ankles freed from the tight chains, and couldn’t help basking in Malik’s determination as he worked to completely release me.
For once, I wanted to kiss him openly and tell him all my feelings and thank him for all he’d done – if not for the gun placed in my hand, and a tilt of Malik’s head to follow him.
There would be time for love – and so much more – later tonight. Right now… we had to help Bakhure.
To be fair, Bakhure looked like he was managing well enough on his own. But even the infamous Thief King had to get tired at some point, especially with the night we’d had. And just as Bakhure fell to the ground and feigned defeat, leaving a perfect opening for me and Malik to deal the final blow—
“Don’t fuck with my family, Zorc.”
I uttered the words with as strong a voice as I could, firing two shots into Zorc’s back. Blood spattered everywhere and Zorc growled from the pain. He turned around with a swipe of his knife before—
“Our family.
Now, Malik shot two holes into Zorc’s chest underneath where I’d injured him. This time, Zorc actually yelled, dropping his knife and tumbling to the ground. Zorc struggled to get up, defiant to the end – until Bakhure stood right atop him, lidded his eyes and smirked with the confidence of a true king among thieves.
”Ever again.”
A final gunshot hit Zorc directly in the chest, quashing him for good – and instead of the silence that followed on the train, I couldn’t help pulling both Bakhure and Malik into my arms and weeping like that lost, lonely child I’d been so long ago. They both wrapped their arms around me, and we fell to the ground in a heap of sweat and blood and emotional relief. I cried my eyes out all the while – not wanting to hold back now.
“Don’t go… Never let go…”
Malik shushed me and ran his hand across my hair, holding me close between him and Bakhure.
“We’re not going anywhere, Bakura… We’re in his together… Always…”
My eyes stung from the never-ending tears, but Malik’s voice comforted me so much. I could feel Bakhure’s heartbeat quicken under my ear as I stayed close to both men… and I realised then exactly what Malik meant.
We were in this together – all three of us.
Things had changed. But after tonight, as we embraced each other right now… I don’t think we’d have wanted it any other way.
“As much as I love creepy buildings…” Bakhure spoke into my neck, his hand reaching for mine – and even without seeing his face, I could tell he wore a smirk. “I know a place that’s a bit more… comfortable.”
Looking back on things now, I realise the one thing that always held me back in life was myself. It’s kinda funny to think that I jumped at the opportunity to rob banks with Malik, but I never took chances with anything really important. I could’ve escaped with Bakhure that day long ago. I could’ve made myself more presentable to families at the orphanage. I could’ve made friends with literally anyone else. I could’ve told Malik how I felt sooner, could’ve been more open with my emotions, could’ve, could’ve, could’ve.
Well, let me tell you – that night, after my near-death experience, after the two loves of my lives saved my ass… I was done with “could’ve.” Now, I wanted “did.”
And no sooner did we arrive at our final stop that evening – a lavish brownstone decked out in the most luxe interior decorating I’d ever seen – than I made good on that promise by doing something I’d wanted to do all night.
“Well, boys, welcome to Zo— mmph!”
I didn’t let Bakhure finish speaking – barely let him through the door – before I pinned him against the wall and captured his plump lips with my own. His muffled surprise quickly turned to elated groans as he grabbed at my fedora and flung it god knows where, pulled at my tie for a closer angle, wrapped his legs around me to make sure neither of us left the other ever again.
I lost track of time as his lips and tongue overwhelmed me in body and soul. In all my dreams since we were young… well, suffice to say, this was better than any dream.
Especially when I felt familiar hands come up behind me, inching up and under my shirt to tease my nipples and caress my aching chest.
“This payback for earlier?”
Malik cooed into my ear as Bakhure and I continued to lock lips. Just the sound of Malik’s voice and the feel of his breath against my skin was enough to make me grow even harder. Between Malik and Bakhure – literally! – I wanted, needed, to feel more right this second.
“It’s only payback if we leave you out.”
I pulled away to turn and speak to Malik behind me – before kissing him full-on an instant later. Bakhure took the chance to lick my neck and nip at me with his teeth – joining Malik’s marks with his own for what was sure to be a beautiful artistic tribute to both their affections.
Our soft hums of arousal escalated to whines and whimpers as we stayed that way for what felt like hours – joined together, clutching for purchase on clothes and exposed skin, breathing in each other’s scents and heat and entire beings.
Eventually, one of us – I was so turned on, I can’t remember who – began the process of removing his own clothes, which just led me to grab whatever material was in reach and rip it off whosever body it lay. Bakhure’s fingers were deft as they undid my shirt with ease. Malik removed his trousers while I yanked off Bakhure’s tie and vest. We each growled as the hot summer night air wafted through an open window, making us sweat even more as the final layers of heavy clothing fell from our bodies.
“God… No wonder you’ve been together so long. You’re both so damn gorgeous…”
Bakhure stood before us without shame, eyeing us over like he’d never seen anything so wonderful in his life. Malik stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me, accentuating the differences in our height and skin tones. He gazed longingly in my eyes at Bakhure’s comment, as if a lightbulb had just gone off in his head – as if he only now realised what I’d wanted to say for so long, and now found the courage to.
“Ten years, five years… Malik, I should’ve told you a million times before now how—”
Malik silenced me with a kiss – different than any other we’d shared before. It was heat and passion and intensity and so much more. There was a slowness to it that said more than I could ever say if I had a lifetime to say it. Its effects lingered long after we broke away moments later – enough time for Malik to lead Bakhure to me and join our hands together.
“And you call me gorgeous?” I blushed at Bakhure’s lidded stare – flushed at how his cheeks were tinted pink and how Malik was breathing heavy and how I was, in one night, getting everything I’d ever wanted. “ Always knew you were beautiful, Bakhure… but…”
Bakhure pressed his body into me so that our erections touched, leaving no room for daylight. I gasped at the contact, caught in the intimate moment as Bakhure stood on his tiptoes to stare into my eyes.
“No more runnin’ away, ‘Kura… For any of us…”
Like Malik, Bakhure laid a kiss on my lips that nearly took my breath away – sweet and playful and lusty and a million other things that made me forget myself completely. Before I knew it, I was gently pushed to the back of the room and laid on a large plush chair – almost like a bed – with Bakhure and Malik overhead.
“We both wanted you to join in earlier, ‘Kura…”
“So, what do you want now?”
My mind was a mess of thousands of ideas, yet I couldn’t articulate a single one. I wanted to take, be taken, explore, be teased, howl in bliss to the heavens, be driven to the edge… But mostly, I wanted to love.
“Fuck me… Love me… Please…”
Bakhure and Malik looked to each other for a moment, surprise written on their face by my candor. But not a moment later they smirked at one another and exchanged a quick, dirty kiss. Then Bakhure leaned back to spread my legs, aiming them up and forward so that I was nearly bent in half. He grabbed a bottle from a nearby table and dipped his fingers in – god damn the sight alone almost made me come, he looked so sexy with that playful look in his eyes.
Malik, meanwhile, stole some of the liquid in the bottle for himself – dousing both our cocks, making me shiver from the cold and what was to come.
I was so distracted by Malik’s dual ministrations, I didn’t notice as Bakhure held my legs in place with one hand and prepped me with the other. I didn’t even hiss at the intrusion – Bakhure’s fingers seemed talented for more than just stealing – and struggled to stay still as my prostate was jabbed almost instantly.
“We’ll love you, ‘Kura… Now… Tonight… Tomorrow… For however long you want…”
“Forever.”
The words left me before I could think, but they were god’s given truth. Even if it ended right here, I wanted this feeling, this closeness, this love to stay between us forever. And by the way Malik and Bakhure sighed near me, I could tell they felt the same, too.
Malik bent down to kiss me, soft and tentative. With a final squeeze at my cockhead, he relinquished his hold. Bakhure had added another finger or two by now, admiring his literal handiwork as he drew breath after shaky breath from my body. I was so focused on watching Bakhure’s concentrated face as he fingered my ass for all its worth… I didn’t register what entered my vision until—
“God, Bakura…”
Malik slid himself down my cock with ease, sheathing himself inch by torturous inch. But it wasn't the look on his face while being penetrated that drew me in – rather, it was how he had his back to me.
For the first time since we’d been in each other’s lives, Malik finally showed me the so-called shame etched into his skin – and I felt a new wave of tears fall from me as I took in the sight and realised what the moment truly meant.
The marks themselves were deep and red, as if someone had intentionally tried to inflict as much damage as possible to my beautiful partner. I knew the scars were from childhood, I knew they were the one thing Malik hid away more than anything else… so to see him put them on full display now for my eyes only, as he slowly lifted himself up and down for our mutual pleasure…
“I love you.”
Again, my brain failed me where my heart didn’t. I just spoke what I felt, reaching out to gently caress Malik’s back as a comfort. He sighed with each movement, groaned as our skin made contact – and I was so lost in the moment, I was taken totally by surprise as Bakhure replaced his fingers with his sizable cock.
“Fuck!”
Bakhure and I cried out into the night in unison, uncaring if anyone heard at this point. Almost immediately, Bakhure drove into me with a raw, frantic rhythm, grunting as he tried different angles, clawed at my hips, shoved my head back onto a set of softer-than-silk pillows. I could only utter shaky moans and grab onto the armrest as he plowed against my prostate, making me see stars in the most addictive way. Coupled with Malik riding me faster and faster to catch up to Bakhure's pace, I was in absolute heaven.
“Yes, Bakhure, yes! So good— So good, Malik—”
I yelled to the ceiling, to whoever would hear the force of our love as we went at it again and again and again. Malik’s ass slammed against my groin. Bakhure’s cock drove me to ever greater heights. Malik’s desperate wails made him latch onto Bakhure with both arms. Bakhure’s howls of pleasure caused him to push even deeper into me so that I swore I was gonna come more than once. Malik, Bakhure, Malik, Bakhure, Malik, Bakhure, Malik, Bakhure…
“Oh, god, right there, right there, right there, right th— ahhhh!”
Malik reached his breaking point – crying into Bakhure’s shoulder as come seeped between both their moving bodies. Figures that Malik would finish first and without needing to be touched, the bastard…
But I wouldn’t have my partner any other way.
To my surprise, I stayed buried deep in Malik as he edged to the side – giving me a nice view of Bakhure as he fucked me. Yet as we locked eyes, he slowed his pace – allowing his brow to un-crease and his breath to catch and his whole demeanour to switch to one less of desperation and one more of affection.
“You look… real good… between my legs… ‘Kura…”
Bakhure continued to pump into me, but now I lifted myself up to draw us all in closer – making sure we were as intimate as possible, now that I could tell the end was near.
“Come in me, Bakhure… I… I want to feel… oh, fuck…”
Like Malik had a few hours earlier, I came without any warning. My gaze never wavered from Bakhure as he continued to fuck me, as I felt a wave of semen leave my body like a flood and fill Malik – who seemed almost as shocked, and arosued, as me.
“Shit, ‘Kura!”
Just as I felt my orgasm subside, Bakhure’s come filled me to the brink – making me tremble in delight as he came long and hard, warming my insides like a comfort. Thoroughly sated, we collapsed atop one another, stroking our tired hands and legs across our bodies. After the night we’d had – especially considering the bruises that still wracked my body – we were allowed to be a bit lazy now.
But my senses eventually kicked in, because only now did something strange strike me about the room.
“Hey.” I spoke mainly to Bakhure, but both he and Malik looked my way. “This place… did you say it was—”
“Zorc’s.” Bakhure grinned wide, gesturing idly with his muscular arms. “Now that the bastard’s good and dead, figured one of his home bases would be ripe for the picking.”
“Won’t there be some kinda power grab?” Even in my post-coital state, I knew well enough to ask the important questions. Then I gestured to the strange chair-bed we were on. “I mean, what even is this? Some kinda…”
I leaned back and took in the sight of a throne fit for a king overhead – decked out in gold, jewels, you name it. I got a kick out of realising we’d just fucked the shit out of each other on such an ostentatious piece of furniture owned by a notorious crime boss – but my worries remained.
Thankfully, Bakhure knew silencing them with a kiss to me and Malik would do the trick.
“We’re the kings of this organisation now, boys.” Bakhure rearranged himself to straddle both my and Malik’s hips, gazing down on us with all the love and pride in the world. “Honestly, we make a great team… in more ways than one.”
Bakhure blushed hard at the confession, and it was all I could do to give Malik a teasing look to help me pull him down into a hug. We peppered each other’s faces with kisses, uncaring of the messes still between our legs or whether it would get on the throne – our throne now.
After all, the Thief King hadn’t been killed tonight – and if me and Malik had anything to say about it, his and our legends would live on forever… together.