Phantom

By: Hanna



Mariku didn’t quite know what to make of his situation.

It had been months since he had first met Diabound, the thief whom had managed to steal not only his breath away but also his affections. Their relationship was a strange one: they fought, reconciled, and Mariku would end up in Diabound’s bed within ten minutes of an argument. Careless, reckless, animalistic, it had been at first, but with Diabound’s trip to Egypt, things had slowly begun to change.

The sex became slow, mournful. It was as though a knot were being untied between them – Mariku’s sole reason for staying around whilst the thief had been gone was to find out what he so desired: the reason for Diabound’s grudge against the pharaoh. As bidden, he had waited patiently, with no company but his own (literally) for three weeks, almost driven to insanity. Prior to Diabound’s departure, Mariku had begun thinking he might actually miss the thief whom had walked into his life out of nowhere.

During the absence that seemed so much longer than it really had been, Mariku had remained behind in the apartment they now shared together. Every night, he had dreamt of the harsh desert lands from where he originated; he dreamt of bathing in the Nile with no cover but the night – oddly enough, in his dreams, it was Diabound who was at his side, not his family, nor just himself. In the heat of the midday sun, they would journey for miles on horseback, racing across sand dunes and leaving hoof prints for those brave enough to follow. Cloaked by the night, warm hands slid across tanned skin and hungry lips clashed in a battle for dominance that was neither playful nor domineering.

Of course, these had only been dreams, partially due to the fact Mariku had been sleeping in a bed which practically leaked with Diabound’s scent, and also because he was unused to going to so long without sex.

Then, along had come Malik, Mariku’s other self, identical to him in every sense of the word – externally. In personality, they were utterly different: Mariku’s intelligence won out in every argument, and Malik’s sex drive seemed to end every argument. Within this odd form of contact with Malik, Mariku found a bizarre source of comfort in Diabound’s absence.

Of course, the hands identical to Mariku’s were nothing like the calloused hands of the thief; they were enjoyable in their own sort of way, however, and drew him to completion every time. The body his own moulded into had every curve and fine slope Mariku’s did – sometimes, he felt as though he was dancing with a phantom. The textured hair that Mariku’s hands slid through was not thick, nor silvery and layered; it was pale sunshine against bronzed skin that glistened with sweat as their bodies moved as one. The eyes he gazed into heatedly were not electric blue but violet duplicates of his own and mirrored the same emotions Mariku’s did. The scent Mariku’s senses were invaded by was not musky and Egyptian; the scent was strong and spicy, to the point where Mariku could feel his senses on fire. The lips were pliable, fitting his own in every place that seemed right – but something was still wrong.

Diabound’s taste still lingered on Mariku’s lips.