Set just after the fight between Murphy and Wells

Wells lowered himself slowly onto a log, wincing and spitting blood into the undergrowth. He rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead and then began to massage the tight muscles in his neck.

A twig cracked right behind him, and a thin, wiry hand clamped down on Wells' shoulder before he had the chance to look around. "You fight like a girl, little princeling." Murphy's crude voice growled, making Wells shiver. The damp forest air suddenly seemed too thin, and Wells fought to keep his breathing steady.

With deliberately slow movements, Wells turned his head to glance sideways at this boy full of anger, full of hate. His brown hair spiked forward, cutting into his eyes, making goose-bumps pop up all over Wells' body.

"Yeah, well," sneered the Chancellor's son, "Guess your thuggish skills had to come in useful at some point, you wretched bastard." He felt as if acid was coursing through him, setting every nerve on edge, making his pulse thunder.

Wells knew the hit was coming before it landed. The skin on Murphy's knuckles split open, his blood smearing over Wells' cheek. When he pulled back his arm, planning on another blow to the face, Wells brought up his forearm to block it. He twisted, pulling Murphy towards him, and they both fell to the forest floor, with Murphy's arm caught beneath Wells' back and their chests pressed tight together.

"I don't think that's why you hate me." Murphy hissed, his mouth quirking into a cruel smile. "I think …"

Wells swallowed and brought his knee up into the soft area between Murphy's thighs. He stopped himself from putting much force behind it, just enough to loosen Murphy's grip, and cause him to inhale sharply. While Murphy was distracted, Wells rolled his hips so that he was on top, pinning the skinnier boy to the ground.

"You think what?" He spat out, his entire body burning, burning, burning. His head was pounding, his jaw aching from being clenched so tightly, and every muscle in him was tense.

Murphy smirked once before leaning up and nipping the skin at the base of Wells' throat between his teeth, then flicking his tongue out over the bruise that was already forming. Wells gasped and his left arm buckled, bringing his face centimetres from Murphy's.

Murphy flashed another devilish grin and smashed his lips into Wells', his mouth hard and cruel against Wells' soft lips, his tongue teasing, trying to force its way into Wells' mouth. It was not romantic. It was angry, hot and violent and Wells was suddenly drowning, but he didn't want to come up for air.

It only lasted a few seconds before Murphy wrenched away, leaving Wells panting and scrambling on the ground.

"I think, little princeling," Murphy's chest heaved as he spoke, proving that Wells was not the only one affected by the kiss. "That you enjoyed that." He winked mockingly before striding away, trying to get the taste of Wells out of his mouth. He ignored the faint pull in his stomach, the blood rushing to his face. He refused to fall for Chancellor Junior. He would rather die.