Author's Notes: Because I thought five was a good number to end on. Because I wanted to write something really dark after all that fluff.

Dedication: Obsessiveness, for writing the fascinating The Vampire Guardian.


Her eyelids slide shut. It's a purposeful and slow action and although he knows it's a seduction tactic (manipulative and utterly meaningless) he finds his eyes tracing her face yet again.

Her tongue swipes her lower lip. It's an age-old nervous gesture. Yet once again, this was done so slowly and purposefully that it couldn't have been anything but another ploy to grab his attention. It's even more outrageously obvious than the previous action, but again, he finds himself unable to tear his traitorous eyes away.

She breathes his name and he can feel his whole body stiffen in response. It doesn't help that she's opened her eyes and he finds himself looking down into the biggest, roundest, brownest, most innocent eyes he's ever seen. It's a paradox, it's a lie, it's a dichotomy, and although he wants to laugh in despair and disgust, he can't help himself.

She bites her lip and although it's a quick bite, it achieves its purpose. Her lips are pink (she's foregone the red lipstick today) and from his angle it looks like a pert childish streak of cherry across her white (powdered to perfection) complexion. He flinches but doesn't move away when her fingers reach up to firmly draw his face down to her height. He's drawn so close that he can see the imperfections in her skin but it's a fleeting thought as her scent (musky, female, seductive) invades him.

"Ruka…" his voice is uncontrollably hoarse. Her eyes flash and her lips twist into a victorious smirk that shatters her pure appearance.

"Akatsuki," she croons. Her voice is deep and out of place with her childish (vampiric) appearance. Nevertheless, her husky voice is so her.

Her fingernails tap his chin lightly and that is the only warning he gets before he's jerked forward again. The force behind her slim fingers is unexpected and he topples forward onto her. They begin to fall toward the ground. Despite the fact it's the unforgiving floor he instinctively grabs her waist and whips her around so she lands on his chest. He cushions their fall with his elbows and pain shoots up his whole body as they crash onto the floor. He curses.

She giggles and does not apologize.

"Oops." She's above him now and although he sees only her face looming over his, he feels every bit of her body. The pain has vanished into some unconscious part of his mind and once again, the only thing he's aware of is her.

"Ruka." This time, he says her name in a remonstrative manner. Not because she hurt him but because she's cracking his already weak resolve. It doesn't matter how many times she hurts him. He'll never hurt her—and from the way her fingers casually trail down the line of his jaw, he knows she knows it.

She laughs at his plight, mirth and cruelty coloring her voice sinfully.

"Good boy," she croons again, cupping his face with her smooth hands and tickling his ear with her untied hair.

"My very, very good boy."

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