A/N: Just a short, angsty little fic. Riff/Frank pairing; if you don't like it, you don't have to read it:-D (Yes, there's still some Riff/Magenta in there for those shippers. They're my favorite pairing!).

It's a lot like life,
This play between the sheets
With you on top and me underneath
Forget all about equality
Let's play master and servant
Depeche Mode

He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists around the black sheets as an intense mixture of pleasure and pain passed through his body in a shudder. Things were different with him than they were with Frank's other partners. The transvestite normally liked to use a certain amount of finesse, an oozing sense of charm, but never outright force. Part of what made him such a master of lovemaking was his ability to make his lovers want him. He could make them feel like their pleasure was his only aim.

However, Frank was unconcerned with being a master of sex with his handyman. His aim here was simply to take what he wanted without pausing to dream up creative methods of erotic play. Their relationship was not one of lovers; they were simply master and servant.

Fighting back a moan as Frank's pace quickened, Riff closed his eyes. He couldn't help enjoying it. True, the experience was totally different from the way he had sex with Magenta. For the most part, he was the one in charge then. With Frank, he had no say. In fact, he almost feared to utter a sound; one never knew what reaction it would provoke in the temperamental prince.

Even the fear thrilled him.

The session didn't last all that long; Frank had stamina to be reckoned with, but he didn't bother employing it when his goal was self-gratification. With a few final hard slams, he was finished, and he collapsed onto the bed. He lay still only long enough to catch his breath before raising his foot to kick Riff Raff off onto the floor.

The handyman winced as he landed on his shoulder, having not been prepared to catch himself. He raised his eyes to look at Frank, who regarded him with an expression of cool indifference. Lowering his gaze again, he wordlessly collected his trousers from where they were bunched around his ankles and slunk out of the room, shutting the door with a quiet click behind him.

Once outside, he sighed and leaned up against the wall, fighting against the hot feeling pressing against his eyes. Deep down, he knew Frank only pushed him around because he let it happen. Frank didn't treat Magenta with the same degree of contempt because his redhaired maid didn't allow it. As far as Riff knew, Frank had never even had sex with his sister, and if he had, Magenta had been perfectly willing. Riff didn't have the same amount of backbone where Frank was concerned. Even though at times he hated his master with a passionate rage, there were far too many other emotions mixed in...

It wasn't exactly love. Not in a traditional sense, anyway. No, Riff suspected the only creature he could ever truly love was his sister. It was the light in Frank's eyes when he discovered something new in the lab...something that Riff had pointed him the right direction of. It was the way his rich, wine-colored lips could effortlessly curve into a delicious smirk or lower into a seductive pout. It was the toned look of his pale arms, the powdered perfection of his makeup.

Maybe it was some form of love. Love and jealousy and bitter resentment all rolled into a teeming mass of feeling that turned Riff into a submissive, faithful servant whenever Frank needed him to be.

He never said a word. He knew Frank needed someone to control.

But underneath it all was a boiling rage that seethed and simmered. One day, it was going to erupt.

For the time being, Riff just slammed his fist once against the wall opposite Frank's room before stalking off down the hall. His sleeping sister would bear the brunt of his anger at Frank. She would wake up to a similar sort of rough, wordless, self-gratifying sex that her brother had just been the object of. Although he would never know it, once he was asleep she would slip outside their room and lean against the wall to fight back a sting of tears similar to his own.

She never said a word.

She knew Riff needed someone to control.