Author's Note:

Umm...what's up?

This story is based on a picture found on Cerulean San's DeviantArt called "Decorations". She said the picture itself was based on an rp that she played once, but I have not read it or anything and am merely basing this oneshot on what I thought the picture implied.

This is sort of pointless, but I needed some writer juices flowing to try and get out of my writer's block. :( Yes, peoples, I have once again fallen into that horrible pit that has entrapped writers throughout the ages. Nonetheless, I have finished the first chapter of On the Account so far, but am dissatisifed with it and therefore it is going through some minor beta-ing.

If this isn't as dark as you might have expected, please don't blame me. I have NEVER written stuff like this before in my life, and I am sorta embarassed at the content...but whatever. Like I said before, this is sort of pointless.

Once again, my apologies for not updating my other stories, but school is sucking my brain dry. :(

On to reading!

It wasn't that she wasn't breathing at all, no, not that. But the way she was breathing now- so quiet, and so still- it was anything but normal. With the remnants of her forcefully drained will she tried to break out from this suffocating spell- this curse!- to take and rush in a deep gush of cold though her mouth.

But he was too strong. Her lungs continued with their bare minimums of inhaling and exhaling, and she was powerless to do otherwise.

Raw hate and anger surged through her veins and flowed straight to her heart, though her face did not give so much as a twitch.

She hated him.

"Well, well."

Whether her eyes would have widened in panic or fear, she did not know. And she definitely wasn't going to find out anytime soon.

They stared like glass into the golden eyes of her torturer and abductor. He slowly looked her over, his gaze combing through her as though she were silken and fine, and his brimming smirk deepened a gouge of disgust in her soul.

He held up what she probably would have thought to be quite a lovely dress, if not for the situation. It was a light green that consisted of many ribbons and laces placed here and there, but not in any aesthetically annoying manner. His gaze went from her to the dress and then back to her again.

"Would you like to try it on?" he asked, handing it out to her.

No reply. It was probably for the best. Her tongue would have flown loose and battered every piece of his pride and arrogance that it could reach, and she would not have been able to feel sorry for the...consequences afterwards.

He raised a mocking eyebrow at her silence, his smirk now playfully questioning. "No...? But...," and here he walked slowly towards her, holding up the dress all the while as though he were a professional dressmaker or something of the sort, and she moved not an inch though her body and mind screamed in unison to do so. "It would look so lovely on you."

He measured the dress up to her with a tenderness that didn't fool her in the least. "It looks as if it fits you too. Why don't you try it on?"

And for the few moments afterwards her skin actually mustered up the ability to shiver all through his slow, prolonged touch, though in truth nothing too indecent was going on or being seen. She would have gritted her teeth at the knowledge that he was merely taunting her, trying to see how worked up she could get through his careful treading of the borderline between or not between the ins and outs of decencies, knowing all the while that she had no choice but to show no emotion.

At last, still standing straight and immobile, it was over. Her body now wore the dress, her hair now wore a faint pink flower that drooped out its color, and her arms and feet were adorned with faded ribbons and laces that slithered around her with a limp. From what she could see, he was no longer there.

Even if she could have, she wouldn't have breathed in a sigh of relief.

Her mind gave a grim I told you so when a silk-covered hand slowly reached out and cupped her face. Its frozen feel clashed violently with the humid warmth of his breath as his face came from behind to meet hers.

It was a good thing her stomach couldn't vomit.

"She would be an excellent decoration," he lowly murmured to no one in particular as he turned and faced her. "An excellent decoration indeed..."

And then he kissed her suddenly, slow and moving and enriched, as though all the time in the world would stop and let him admire her lips with his own.

Winry, of course, did nothing.

But then she was surprised to find that she was suddenly kissing him back, and tried to push herself away from him as far as possible. But her feet wouldn't move at all, and it was then that she figured out that he- how dare he!- had loosened only her mouth and tongue in order to forcefully comply with his.

Her hatred of him would never cease and she knew that he knew the same.

But nothing could stop him from doing what he wished.

A/N: Ummm...like I said before, kinda pointless. But hopefully readers are impressed by the attempt at greater wrting skills? (hopeful eyes)

Meh, whatever. Please read and review!