.уσυ'яє му α∂∂ι¢тιση.

His presence, behind her, she tried to ignore it as his breath spread a layer of warm moisture across her neck. She succeeded by focusing on the bluish flame licking at the cloth wick of the oil lamp in the northern corner of the room. Similar lamps were scattered throughout the room, at ten foot intervals along the wall, but their flames were bright and thriving. The dying flame more easily captured her attention.

A sigh was emitted as she continued to ignore him. It was irking, and she knew it; that was why she found more satisfaction in blatant ignorance. Cold and calloused, his hands found their way to her sides, lightly resting at first, making his presence known.

His voice was empty, raw, void of anything.

Just like your heart.

"You're ignoring me."

I know.

Fingers dug into her hips when she voiced no reply, and he buried his nose into the crook of her neck before he lifted his gaze, to the dying flame, and bit into her neck. A sharp intake of breath.

"I don't like it when you ignore me," murmured he, into her neck.

I know.

He lifted his head and spun her around like a rag doll, her heels scuffed the hardwood floor.

I'm your rag doll. Just like she is.

Tilting her chin, he made sure he was looking up at him.


"You're mad at me," stated he, no remorse in his voice, no concern. He leaned in, wanting her to feel the meshing of the patches of their bare skin, and stepped forward, invading her personal space until nothing could fit between her white tunic and his school blazer. "But it won't last because you adore me." Assured was he.

I'm addicted to you, but I still hate you.

She turned her head away and took a step back, retreating. The roman, marble statue to her left caught her eye. Nimble fingers skimmed across the smooth surface, noticing the abrupt change between textures.

His hands found their way back to familiar territory as he rested them upon her hips, and they ventured lower to the hem of her pleated skirt.

You touch her, just like you touch me.

His hands froze at the hem of her skirt. "Tell me what you want," whispered he, and her hands found his, abandoning the statue.

"I want you," was the only thing she said.

Because I need you, just like she needs you.

A/N: I was working on another story, and this fucked up little piece came out of it. It's a bit different, and I think that's why I liked it. Don't necessarily like the characters, but in all, I liked the piece. The writing structure is different, yeah, I know. I'm not stupid, so please, don't bother to point out the obvious.