Sugar is sweet,
Ice cream is too,
I don't own Teen Titans,
So you can't sue!

hee hee.

Tumble on silk. A quick gasp. A giggle. And then a voice;

"A very adorable, cute, beautiful, fucking sexy w-"

A sigh, and a feminine moan.

"Quietly, bite your lip."

Another giggle. And then she pouted.
"I like being loud." in a childish voice she whispered.

There's no way that voice could be the same one taking control of the stage, everyone captivated listening to her. They had been moving their bodies to the pitch of her voice, and it had gotten to him, too. Slowly, ever so slowly, her voice would rise and then, at it's peak, fell like her body might if she hadn't had such control. A frail goddess...so gorgeous that everyone worshiped her. She could be two, he thought.
Two kinds of goddesses.

"Incredible" He moaned, as her lips moved to his neck.

"You try being quiet, now." She challenged. Her hands working the buttons on his shirt as her teeth bit slightly into his neck.

He bit his lip, determined not to let her win. She was so different on stage, so innocent and broken...when now she presented herself as in charge and mature. Oh so mature. And controlling. He loved controlling women.

A shirt thrust across the room...and shoes kicked off.
She pushed him down and straddled him. She let out a small moan when she felt something hard angainst the inside of her legs. He let his hands drift up her flat stomach to her breasts. They were firm and round, and he smiled at her.

"No." She whispered, pushing his hands against the bed. "You don't get to touch until I say so." Again with the childish voice.
She stripped her shirt over her head, reveling a see-through white lace bra. She smiled innocently, as if being nervous about her appearance, but he knew she couldn't be.

He reached up to cup her breasts in his hands but she grabbed his hands and pinned the to the bed. "No." she repeated, her smirk giving her cute face a very sexy look. She lifted herself up slightly and removed her skirt. Her matching thong was the end of his control. He rolled her over so he was ontop and began kissing her roughly. She tried to sit up, but got pushed against the wall the bed was against.

A bra and a pair of jeans thrown on the floor. A moan, deeper than the one before. The thong fell next.

He started kissing her neck, and rubbing her nipples. She was losing the battle of being quiet. His kisses began to trail downwards until he was biting her nipples. He continued until she pulled his boxers off then he continued down until he was kneeling on the floor, her legs on either side of him, her hips moving in a rhythmic motion. He let his tongue explore to keep her occupied while he pulled a condom out of the pocket of the discarded jeans pocket. He put it on, quickly, her moans earging him to move quicker and quicker.

Load moans from both. breathing getting faster and heavier, hearts beating quickly. Grabbing, sweating, scratching.
"Faster!" She cried breathlessly, moaning louder.
His breath in her ear as he leaned over. She moved her head so her mouth was next to his ear. She bit it.
"Fuck. Me. Harder." She moaned. He obeid.
More sweating, panting, the sound of the bed squeaking. then a loud moan, many infant, until she collapsed against the bed. He followed soon after, with only a few more thrusts and then kissed her lightly.

"You're an amazing fuck." He said absently, throwing the discarded condom in the trash can next to the bed.
She forged a smiled, caught her breath, and sat up. That sentence killed another little part of her.

She got dressed, playfully grabbed the cigaret out of his hand, and slipped him a small piece of paper.

"Visit me again sometime." She whispered, almost seductively, and then walked out the door, leaving him to enjoy the after effects himself.

A door slamming. The click of a lock. A fragile body falling against the door.

Tears falling.

She would never be part of that world. She was a whore. A no good, worthless whore who sang at a club with rooms specifically for drugs, sex, and broken dreams. She was only as good as what someone would do to be with her.
Starfire; her stage name.
Starfire; the whore.
The one a respectable man like Richard Grayson would never give a second thought if he knew the truth. No amount of money would make her acceptable for him. And why should it? She was what she was...A performer, an actress, but mostly, a liar.
And that's all that would ever become of her.

No one could get to know Kori. The innocent, childlike girl that had disappeared when everyone had started calling her Starfire. Kori had liked the attention, and hadn't cared, so long as she had a name. But Kori had had different plans when she came to California. She'd come for an education, for something better in life. But, she soon learned how cruel the world was, and how expensive living away from Mommy and Daddy could be.

But you can't ask someone who's dead for help.

She sniffed quickly and stood up. She was used to this feeling, so why was this time so hard? Kori looked around her meager apartment and sighed. Her entire home could have fit in the one room of the mansion Richard lived it.
Red, black, purple, lime green, and white clothes lay all over the place. Tutus, corsets, ripped jeans, platform shoes, and long boots lay in disarray over chairs and on top of tables. Most of that clothing cost more than she made in a year.
Too bad most of it wasn't actually hers.

It was all loaned from the hell-hole she worked at. All of the pretty gowns, corsets, tutus, and every other accessory was borrowed. She needed it, because, well, men aren't going to be very fascinated with a girl wearing what she could afford. Men notice one thing when they go there;


A sigh.

True, she was pretty, and had a nice body, but her life was embarrassing. She lived in a one room apartment with a mattress on the floor and a dirty bathtub. At least Richard had bought her dinner, so she didn't need to go to the mission and beg tonight...

Bed looked so good night now, but there were things to be done. Beauty came at a price...a very high price as a matter of fact. It wasn't fair that she had to choose between the face wash, perfumed soap, and hair products that were required for upkeep or eating. Just this last month she had lost 3 pounds from lack of eating and, well, honestly, cheap dates who had wanted only to fuck her and nothing else. At least Richard had treated her decently...better than most.

Thinking about tonight left a blush on her cheeks. She really wasn't as easy as she may have come off tonight. She hardly ever fucked on the first date...and because of that, there usually weren't second dates with the same guy. But...he had been different...he'd made her feel pretty, and worth more than the cost of entrance into 'Le Noire'.

What a cheap name, she thought. God damn, what a cheap name. Like Starfire. It sounded like a stripper's name. Out of all the things she hated, being called a stripper was the worst. She'd worked hard for the position she had at the club in California. It was no Moulin Rouge, but it wasn't a bar on the side street of Las Vegas, either.

And clothes never came off on stage, you know. It was what happened after the performance was over that made her feel dirty all the time. The thing that made her scrub her skin until it was red and sore at night when she got in the shower.

The thing that had, in the past, put the scars across her wrists and the empty bottles of pills under the bed...and the worst part...

The remains of an apple, the only thing she'd eaten that day mixed with stomach acid in the sink after she felt guilty for eating it.

That was the worst.

But that was before, when she was weak...impressionable, and dumb. When she trusted everyone and felt like she deserved better.
Her sister had nothing better than this, of course, that was before she'd killed herself in the hallway a few months prior to Starfire's "promotion".

God, that had been a mess. All the blood on the walls, on people's doors...on Starfire.

But, it had made her tougher, and she'd survived the funeral, paid for by the club, of course. She'd survived so far, and she would care for herself until someone came along to help her. For right now, she was managing. She was clothed, fed for the most part, and she had a house. That was more than her mother had had before her father had saved her.

Kori dreamed of a better life, she worked at bettering herself. That's why, in the stove that had no gas to run, was a small plastic jar with change, singles, and the occasional 10 that she threw in there anytime she had extra money. That was her future. She was saving for something better.

With a long sigh, she walked about five ten feet to her shower, grabbed a rag of a towel, and began undressing. A shower sounded good, but bed sounded better. So, swallowing her will to sleep, she got in the cold shower. Heat was something that was expensive.

Cold showers are good for the skin anyway, right.

But tonight, she didn't scrub until she was raw, she didn't cry loud enough for anyone to hear, she just quickly washed she long ruby hair and went to bed.

Sleep was well earned tonight, she thought as she lay down on the used mattress and pulled her mother's quilt up to her chin.

Someday, she would be something.

Someday, she would be happy.


So, yep. that's the first chapter. Sorry for it being a bit short and kinda just giving up on my other stories...
Also, this is gonna jump around a lot. Everything that was said in the chapter will be explained as we go on. The date between Richard and Kori, he parents' death, Blackfire's suicide, her preforming, and everything else.

Oh, and if anyone knows what blackfire's name was, I'd really appreciate if you'd tell me. :)