Don't own a thing!

A/N: Warning #2. Fairly explicit content. Do not read if you are easily disturbed. Also, greatly enhanced if listening to the song I quote: Closer, by Nine Inch Nails. If you don't like or can't appreciate the song, then definitely click the back button on your browser right now.

Also, this is still kinda rough, and I wrote it mostly to write something. Tell me what you think.


A glint of white porcelain cuts across your swollen snarl as you stalk toward me, the sound of my slap still echoing, a deep gleam to those green eyes, the filthy streetlight high above this narrow alley ringing the crown of your head into a silver halo, and the irony is not lost on me.

You let me violate you, you let me desecrate you…

I'm not surprised when you shove me against the brick wall, my spine absorbing the shock, and I raise one hand not in self–defense, but in that twisted defiance you love so well. My wrist scrapes against the rough wall as you slam it there, pinning it with your own, and I can smell the blood on your mouth, oozing from the corner of your lip. My own green eyes blaze as it drips onto my dress, across the toes of my brown boots. There will be many more moments like this in my future, I hope.

Help me, I've broke apart my insides, help me, I've got no soul to tell…

I know why we do this. I can smell the fear as it rolls off your breath like the taint of day–old whiskey, I can feel it shiver through me as the hilt of your not–yet–drawn sword jabs into my stomach as you press yourself into me. I know this is going to hurt, and I am not disconcerted by this. I wait for it.

You make me perfect…

I raise my other hand only to have it snatched, but before it joins its companion against the brick, I wrap my fingers into yours, digging my nails in enough to feel the fragile flesh give. You suck in a breath; your eyes closing into a half–lidded glare of pain, but a ghost of a smile plays at your lips with I stand to my tip–toes to lick the blood off them.

Help me think I'm somebody else…

I don't regret any of this. That desperation in your eyes, the small moan that slips past your bared teeth as you pin both my wrists with one hand, reaching down to undo the buttons down my dress. I long for my hands to be free so I can rake my nails down your back. "Pink is not your color," You whisper with something like tenderness, and I bite in your shoulder as I burn, because you are the only one who will ever see that about me.

My whole existence is flawed…

We may be kindred spirits. We will probably never know; your humanity was stolen from you just as mine was, taken by greed and the desire for higher things, and this is all we can do to recover from that. The only power we have left.

You bring me closer to god.