Disclaimer: If I owned Victorious, you couldn't watch it on TV. As you can and it is, I don't.

I slam Cat up against the wall, knocking the breath from her fragile form. She moans softly, partly from pain and partly from pleasure, and I anchor my lips to hers forcefully, pulling the breath from her and not letting her regain it. My hands are rough in their conquest, pushing up under her top, impatient to reach her flesh, and she shudders against me.

It's hard to know when it started. It just sort of happened one day. I'd been in a rough spot with Beck, and I'd gone to the auditorium to just sort of sit and think. Well, sit and think myself into a rage. I'd just wanted to be alone, but then Cat had walked in, peering about like some demented bird. Cat's a sweetheart, sure, but I was not in the mood for her cheeriness. She knew I was upset, but instead of leaving she started chattering away in her soft voice, telling me everything was going to be okay. But all that was running through my mind was Beck, over and over again. What were we fighting about? Cat. Beck had made some stupid comment about how cute Cat was when she did her impression of so and so, and I'd basically told him to go and fuck her if he wanted, and that I was sure she'd be up for it.

So I overreact sometimes. Hindsight's always twenty twenty, but all I knew right then was that I was pissed at Beck and here was the very reason of our fight chattering away, trying to comfort me. I just... I just wanted to get revenge, to sort of one-up Beck in an imaginary contest. I'd cut her off mid-sentence, leaning over and crushing my lips against hers. Just to beat Beck to it, I thought. There was nothing soft, or caring about the kiss, it was just a big 'fuck you' to Beck, but Cat had turned to a pile of speechless jelly, and I'd found myself liking the taste of her, liking the way she quivered against me. She'd pulled away eventually to take a breath, panting slightly, and I could see the confusion in her eyes, mixed with lust. It was oddly alluring, and I'd moved to kiss her again almost immediately, a little softer this time, teasing her.

That's sort of how it started, as a stupid revenge against an imaginary slight, but it turned into something else. What was only meant to happen once, what was a mistake, kept happening again and again. There was something addictive about Cat, something incredibly hot about this secret we had, that she couldn't tell anyone because she was scared I'd stop. Power's the greatest aphrodisiac, and Cat was putty in my hands. I don't love her; that's not what this is. I don't know what it is, but it's cruel, and rough, and all I know is that she loves it. Sweet little Cat loves getting dominated, loves getting thrown about to the point of bruising. And every time it happened, it got just that little bit more rough, that little bit more sadistic, even as I started finding myself wanting to do the opposite, to actually be a bit gentler.

So here I am now, nipping at her neck until she gasps and I capture her in a cruel kiss, taking her bottom lip into my mouth and biting down hard until she moans, and until I taste the metallic tang of blood. I can feel the adrenaline racing through my veins, and what this started out as... it's changed, because I wouldn't choose to be this rough if Cat didn't like it so much. I move my hand up under her top, slipping under a cup of her bra and finding the hardened nipple within. I rub my thumb over it, softly at first, Cat's hips twitching against me, before pinching it between my fingers until she moans, biting her bloody lip and panting my name. I increase the pressure until her hips are pushing against me and she's almost pleading me, begging me to just fuck her already.

She's never asked me to stop. She's never asked me to be gentler. The rougher I am, the more she responds, and she's never once asked what this is. She's just accepted it, accepted the rules I've laid down. Her goddamn pliability, her goddamn submissiveness... it's such a turn on, to know that I can have her whenever, wherever, and not have to worry about her feelings or anything. Sure, I feel guilty about Beck... but... whatever this is, I can't stop. I'll be sitting in class, trying to do my work, and I'll look up and there's Cat, looking so sweet and innocent and clueless, and all I can see is how she screams when I fuck her, how she moans when I bite her, and it drives me crazy. To know that under that dreamy demeanour there's this animal that'll beg me to go harder, to hurt her.

I move my hand to push apart her legs, dragging my knuckles up the inside of her tanned thighs until I reach her panties, pushing her skirt up. It amazes me, as always, how wet she is, how much all this turns her on. I kiss her again, and she meets me eagerly, her mouth tasting like blood and a little like chocolate, and just like her, it seems incongruous. I move aside her panties, finding her quickly and thrusting my fingers inside her roughly. I know it must hurt, and she lets out a strangled sob, gasping for breath, but she never says a word, only tightens her grip on me. I curl my fingers inside her, pushing them so hard into her that she bumps against the wall with every movement and she's making these uncontrollable sounds, her eyes flickering shut and her teeth biting down on her already-mangled lip. She's gushing over my hand, hot and wet, growing slicker and slicker, and I pump my fingers inside her faster, grunting, wanting to feel her stiffen against me. I crush my lips against hers, pressing her tight against the wall. I want to feel her when she comes. I add a third finger, and she bucks into me, trying to gasp a breath against my lips. I bite down on her bottom lip again, reopening the wounds, releasing it when I feel her body tense and seize up, pressing up against me, a muffled cry vibrating into my mouth. I don't lessen my pace, thrusting inside her harder if anything, prolonging her climax until she's sobbing into my mouth, her body trembling, held up only by mine pinning her to the wall. I pull my fingers out of her quickly as she comes down, so that she whimpers at the sudden loss of sensation. I'm panting, the taste of her blood thick in my mouth, the essence of her slick on my hand. Cat's panting too, her lips stained red, and she leans forward, kissing me softly, tenderly until she has to break away to take a breath.

She's never rough with me. She's never scratched my back, bit my lip or pushed against me more than her body demands her to. She's always been gentle. When she kisses me, it's like a lover does, and I can't see how she can do that. How she can not fight back, how she can still kiss me with such tenderness while she's bleeding from a wound I made. But she never kisses me unless it's after, right after, in those few minutes while we're still pressed together, recovering. She knows it's the only time she can get away with it. She's never touched me, never so much as even had her hand up my shirt, and she's never really tried to. It's part of the rules.

I push myself off her, swiping my mouth with my other hand, wiping my slick one off on her skirt. "Are you still bleeding?" I ask, gesturing to her lip.

Cat puts a hand to it, touching it and examining her bloody fingertips. "I think it's stopping."

"Good." I leave the room, her scent still swirling around me, and ring Beck as I get to my car. "Hey, I'm coming round."

I usually see Beck after I'm done with her. It's like I need to prove to myself that what I have with her doesn't mean anything, because of what I have with Beck, to prove that what I feel for her isn't anything compared to what I feel for Beck. That it's nothing, just this thing I can't seem to stop doing.

It is nothing. But I can't stop.

A/N: This was just gonna be a oneshot, but I have a couple more ideas for it, so it might be three chapters altogether.

However, I let you guys influence me entirely too much, so please review and tell me what you think. It was hot, right? Yeah it was hot XD