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I can't resist him. I wrap my hands around him, my lips meet his. I know I shouldn't do this. He's like a siren call, I feel obsessed. I press myself against him. I release from him only to catch my breath. He's like a relief. Everytime we go apart for a second we clash again. He leans on a table as I cup his face, deepening my desire, even when I hate him, I hate him with a passion, I want to end him, destroy every bit of him.I slide down his neck, biting into his neck, I can hear him hissing in my ear, pain and pleasure. My teeth sink into his skin, perfect skin. I bite again, he makes a slight groan noise, he seems to melt against me, slouching down and tensed up.I unbutton his top, revealing his collarbones, I bite down again and again on his other shoulder, I feel my teeth deep in his fibers, my teeth release and I hunch over tracing the collarbones, taking in every angle and curve his got. I resist another bite, I want memorize every inch of his body I want to find every weakness and strength he has got. I shouldn't be doing this, we still hate each other. I don't mean anything, do I? What I am doing is out of hatred, I convince myself. I toss my coat aside, along with my tie. I can tell he's fully in the moment
when I stand before him I can feel his eyes on my torso, as if admiring me. Makes me realize how much bigger I am compared to him, probably because of my height. He begins to fidget with the remainder of the buttons, sliding his shirt off. I see the scars, most from me. Reminds me how I am supposed to be killing this guy. I look him up and down, he seems perfect, slim with muscle. I give a small laugh to his hasty movements. I barely hesitate either, removing my shirt too. I can feel his gaze tracing my scars. I wish I could reverse time, I hate him, I hate his sharp gaze I hate the way he admires me. But I do it anyway. I persuade him as soon as my shirt hits the floor. I make sure he's mouth knows me better than it does him. I want every last bit of this, my hands slide around, mapping everything. He feels soft against me like a melted candle. I catch my breath, but I would've gone longer if it weren't for oxygen.
"I hate you.." he says, trying to catch his breath as well. I hate him too but I want to break him.
"Good." I say "I'll break you down into bits" I will break him down into a mess of confusion and pleasure. I know what he wants, once you've stalk- I mean observed someone for a while, you know every bit about them. I drag him over to the bed nearby, holding onto him. Pin him down, just by being on top of him feels too intimate. The bite from earlier comes through, a bruise left behind, I grip onto his thighs, my other hand holding him in place. I release myself from his shoulders, those poor shoulders of his. I slide a knife out of my pant pocket, I feel him trying to squirm out my grasp, he doesn't deserve to go out lustfully, I reassure him "I'm not going to kill you..why would I? You'd be pleased by dying while full of pleasure." A look of confusion goes into his face. I slide the knife against his neck, he gives a slight shiver, "You can trust me with knives my dear." I remove the knife from his neck, not even a scratch appears. He backs away as if I'll hurt him, I'll hurt him in different ways, "Sit up" I order, he does it immediately, "So obedient" I comment. His reaction is near instant he turns a tint of red.
"call me that again.." he mumbled, I know what he wants, praise. I'll give him praise alright, he loves compliments and what not. I slide my finger across the blade.
"Call you what?" I ask teasingly, "Obedient.. you are very obedient--you know, very good", he's more submissive if you ask me. I run a hand under his chin, I hover over him, as he basically melts under me. I slide the knife again, careful against his perfect skin, "Such perfect skin" I comment "Sadly I've ruined it with my marks", I lean down, kissing his neck apologetically, I place the knife back into my pocket, the thought of killing him has died. I curl my fingers in his hair, he makes a whine noise, enjoying this, "You like praise don't ya?", I ask in a cocky-tone, I'll make sure he knows that I know all about him. He nods quickly, this submissive freak. I kiss him again, god damn.. if it weren't for me and him being enemies, I can feel him grabbing onto my back, I pull back, "you're such an amazing kisser" I comment, I lick my lips, I can almost taste him. I keep kissing him, telling him about his beauty, personality and his physical touch. He slouches after every comment, crumbling under me. I can tell how much he wants this, I can tell how much I want this too. The tension loosens, I've stopped kissing him, I only play with his silk-like hair. I can't help it. My fantasies have mainly Disappear. How does he feel about me..? How does he feel about us?
"Still hate me?" I say trying to get rid of all sign of desperation.
"Tch yea..." He replys, staring at the floor, as if deep in pondering. I merely stare at him in all his glory. My urges come back, so do my fantasies. He suddenly kisses me first this time, not soft either. I flinch back but give into him. I rest my hands on his hips, fighting every bone in my body not to move around my hands. He wraps his arms around my neck, dragging me down slightly. I bite down once more, his blood seeping into my mouth, tastes almost metallic, I gladly take it all in, I pull away, he makes a slight groan noise. Even when it tastes metallic, it's sweet..
"Sweet.." I mumble, making sure he can hear me. I see the clean cut on his lips, I trace it with my thumb, he turns as red as a cherry. He looks away embarrassed..
It's been moments, silent. Nothing to talk about. The thoughts of me ending him reappear to haunt me. I was supposed to kill this guy. I fucked up, yet I didn't. I can't tell what's real and what's my personas doing. I kill off the thoughts remembering how obsessed I am with him. I want him so badly, I want his contact, I want him to crumble under me, I want him to feel me. Will I ever have that.
"We still hate each other.. right?", my persona hates him, I don't hate him. I don't wanna answer either way. Wethers its my persona or me. What does it change? I stand up, gathering my tossed aside clothing, getting them in as fast as I took them off, For him. He does the same, sliding on the shirt. I go to the door, waiting for him to finish. When he does he stands next to me, he reaches for the handle. Not yet. I grab his wrist and kiss him before my persona is all that's left. Ill miss him, his kisses, his contact with my body, I still see the marks left by me against his neck. I grab the handle for him opening the door.
"Yes." I say quietly, a strain a tear.