Disclaimer: Don't own it, darlings.

Warnings: Deep dark descriptions and mature themes. Beware.

Summary: There is a thin line between love and hatred. YK

There was never any tenderness when they were together.

Cinnamon and amethyst clashed, bruised lips slamming together with the gentleness of a pair of fists. Fingers scraped greedily, hungrily, against alabaster skin, tearing it, claws shredding flesh as though they were cats at a scratching post.

The nezumi's hiss was lost on the neko's tongue.

There were never gossamer curtains drawn around a bed of roses.

His body slammed in the mattress, the neko's arms holding him in place as he smashed on top. Close, hot breath poured over his neck as fangs sank into the silky flesh of his throat. The nezumi hissed, amethyst flickering dangerously beneath the haze of lust. His voice was a hoarse, ragged whisper.

"Mind your place."

There was never lover's pillow talk.

The neko was the one to hiss this time, as the slender column of his shadow-darkened throat was ravished by the tongue of his partner. Revenge. His hands cupped naked hips and squeezed, clawed, jerking upwards and setting the nezumi aflame. Once placid amethyst eyes raged and boiled like so much molten stone, pure heat radiating from every fiber of his being.

"I hate you."

Bruised lips clashed together once more.

"The feeling is mutual."

And the line blurred.