A/N: Straight in! And sorry about the ambiguity. It feels so nice to write it that way. Umm... Somewhat song-fic-ish. All lyrics are from Hinder's "Get Stoned" Yes. Some Lyrics are omitted, but they're transitions more than actual story elements. A one-shot to the person that correctly guesses who she's quoting and where he's from!

Disclaimer:

Lyrics are rights to Hinder and Xiaolin Showdown belongs to Cristy Hui.

I highly doubt I can make it through another of your episodes. Lashing out: One of the petty moves you pull before you lose control.

"You do this too much," he whispered into her ear, a chill running down her spine as the velvet-soft words snaked down into her system. He was always good at getting under her skin and quite frankly, it pissed her off. She looked over her shoulder, hiding her clear irritation with a poisonous smile.

"You sneak up on people too often." She felt her anger flare when he gave her a cocky sideways smirk and her eyes narrowed.

Hands on her shoulders, he growled softly, "If you still want a place to call 'home', you had best follow me in this instant, Hag." He chuckled as he felt her back straighten and knew she was almost boiling over in anger. His arms caught her when she turned to face him, hair whipping behind her.

She grabbed the shirt under his armor and growled back as his grin grew wider, "Who gave you the right to order me around, Snake?" In a flash, he swept a hand under her legs, and pulled her into a one-armed carry, cradling the woman into his chest. His amusement only increased as she grew more and more furious. He loved it; seeing someone once so powerful helpless and at his mercy in his arms was something of a sadistic pleasure for him. "Put me down," she hissed angrily, raising a hand and curling it into a fist. She was sick of his games and his stupid smirk did nothing for her rare temper: losing control of situations was somewhat of a button-pusher for her. His chuckle vibrated through his chest as he curled his larger, longer fingers over her raised fist, nullifying her intended attack with his grip.

"Who?" he asked, tightening his grip and feeling a sense of glee as she gasped in pain, squirming in his hold. "You did when you came to me for assistance. You honestly didn't believe that I would take something from you?"

Panting a bit as she strained against him, she answered, "I thought you'd already taken something when you took my powers."

He chuckled again and she was angry all over again. "No, no, no. That was only a precaution." He buried his face into her neck and licked along the side of it until he reached her ear, satisfied when he felt her shiver and her jaw tighten as if holding something back. "I hold your freedom, witch. When you came to me, I took your right to do as you please." He bit her ear lightly, feeling the elation as she inhaled sharply and gripped his armor, squeezing tightly in an effort to pull away. "While I've overlooked certain things, it was only to entertain us both. You're so amusing when you believe you still have control."

Eyes closed tightly as she struggled against him, she couldn't help but to feel an odd sense of attraction. Her primal instincts getting the best of her, she loved being held by a man she simply knew was stronger than her and it only fueled her sense of irritation. "Then why not turn me into one of your slaves and get it over with?"

"Silly woman," he told her, laughing softly as if she were a child who'd said something very stupid. She turned red-faced, her anger ready to boil over. "Do you not listen?" She crossed her arms, turning her face away from him childishly. If he was going to be so set on making fun of her, she would ignore him. Depriving him the satisfaction of knowing that he was getting under her skin was the best thing she could do right now. However, he caught wind of what she was doing and grinned evilly, taking the opportunity to teleport both of them to his home.

Let's go home and get stoned; we could end up making Love instead of Misery. Go home and get stoned; 'cause the sex is so much better when you're mad at me!

Scowling at the demeaning position she was in, she glared at his cats, silently daring them to so much as growl in humor as she and the savage holding her walked by. She absolutely despised him at that moment. She hoped that if she ever got her hands around his neck and snapped him lifeless, his immortal soul could burn in the deepest pits of hell, watching her rule his cats and the world. The thought satisfied her, and made a slow, hateful grin pull at her lips.

He watched her in a sorts of intrigue as he carried her into his chambers, eyebrows furrowing. He hoped she wasn't thinking that the humiliation was over and asked her so. "I know it isn't," she snapped, fingers drumming angrily on her arm. "I'm simply plotting your slow and painful demise." She shivered when he leaned in and growled into her ear again.

"Not if you meet yours before me."

She shoved his face away with her palm, baring fanged teeth. "In your dreams, Lizard. I will not die."

"And thus neither will I," he replied smoothly, a hand taking hers and rubbing over her knuckles with his thumb before brushing her knuckles with his breath. She growled and snatched her hand away from him.

"You're not fooling me with the romantic bullshit," she snapped. "And I do not appreciate the notion that you're putting on this act simply to piss me off!"

"Always the shrewd one," he remarked dryly. Fed up, she pushed away from him and broke free from his grasp, landing on her feet in front of him. Her back turned, she started to walk away until she felt his hand wrap around her thin bicep, stopping for a moment.

"Yes?"

"We're not done here."

"Said who?" she asked, a bitter look on her face despite the fact that she knew the answer to that question.

"Me." He smirked. Besides, the doors are locked. You wouldn't be able to leave either way without my explicit permission.

As if she could read his thoughts, she automatically thought to herself, Fink. "Of course," she sighed.

He pulled her into his arms and chuckled softly when she growled at him again. He didn't know what it was, but he loved it when she was angry with him. He loved knowing that he could get so under her skin and so tightly wound up like no one else. Feeling the angry warmth of her, he ran his hands down to the small of her back. "Watch where you put your hands," she warned acidly. Deliberately, his hands followed the curve of her backside to his target and he gave the mass of fat and muscle a hard squeeze, earning him a look of surprise and another death glare. He had to stop himself before he would let out a noise of glee, enjoying her misery. "I despise you," she growled at him.

He merely gave her a cocky smirk and released her, turning his back as he walked deeper into the room and began peeling off his armor. She gaped at him, not sure how to react at this sudden action. She wasn't sure whether to be elated that he'd finally ceased to touch and patronize her or to be offended that he'd suddenly lost interest after he'd spent the last hour of their immortal lives torturing her. "Where do you think you're going?" she demanded, her fists curling into tight fists. However, her heart froze when he looked over his shoulder at her, a look of mirth and mischief in his eyes, framed by his loose locks, and she knew she had just lost a fighting battle to this man.

"To bed," he answered simply before lowering his eyes coyly. "With an open invitation."

Without a doubt, all the break up's worth the make up sex you're givin' me. Let's hash it out 'cause your bitchin' and your yellin' don't mean anything. Don't count me out;

I can handle all the baggage that you're carrying.

Breathing in, she lay awake, hating herself for submitting to his tricks yet once more. My high-blown pride at length broke under me and now has left me, she quoted, remembering the four-hundred year old text that she'd found in his library and musing in the irony of how much she sympathized with the statement. Rolling onto her side, she spared a glance at his sleeping face, so different. Her normally pompous and perfectly puffed hair now hung lankly and messily around her face and simply acting as a waterfall against her dark skin as it always did after they'd romped between the sheets, but she pushed it out of the way so she'd be able to look at him. She hated him, but there was something about the man that drew her to him. She felt like a moth drawn to his open flame, aware of the danger but so entranced by the distracting radiance to pay it any mind. Her eyes ran over the bite marks on his shoulders, feeling a small and petty pride at the imprints of her fangs on his smooth, cream-colored skin. She smiled bitterly as she remembered that he'd returned the favor, however. Without having to touch or see them, she felt his teeth on her collarbone, littered on her hips, and scattered across her abdomen.

She blinked in surprise as his arms suddenly reached for her and pulled her into his chest. She whispered, knowing he was now awake, "I'm still angry with you."

"I know."

He tucked her head under his chin, smiling in the immense sense of satisfaction he now felt. A silence developing between them, his arms wrapped around her, mindful of the developing bruises and existing bite marks. She winced and he briefly felt sorry for what he'd done. But the feeling went away when she pinched a bruise of his own and he smirked to himself. She'd never be the one to go down without first dishing out a fair piece of revenge, but it was one of the reasons he fancied her so much. Being obeyed by everyone in his personal palace was nice and all, but she provided a headstrong individuality that he reveled in. It was a curse of immortality: stability was too boring for his tastes and he felt good knowing that he had a half-hearted control over the woman that gave his old teacher so much hell. He'd always found her fascinating; even back then. He would've never admitted it even if he'd been bound and gagged and starved. Her vigor and dark sensuality called out to him in his youth, slowly drawing him closer and closer to the darker side.

She was the reason he drank the damned soup.

It was her in his thoughts when the bean had offered a chance for immortality. Could I see her again? Would she remember me? How would it feel to be on the same side as her after everything we went through? he could remember asking himself as he took the golden bowl into his hands, staring into the jeweled eyes of the dragon scowling at him. Yes, he wanted to surpass his rival too, but he could've done that on the Xiaolin side easily. It was her allure that brought him into the Heylin; he simply allowed everyone else to believe he'd been tricked into it. It was honestly rather ridiculous: he was not stupid enough to blindly listen to a hideous vegetable, but it gave him a decent excuse (he'd kill himself before he ever admitted the truth behind his conversion.) Besides, he was fulfilled. The cause of his agony was now in his arms, bare, bruised, and simply his. Perhaps he was being a bit pretentious in assuming he owned the witch, but she kept coming back for a reason. For all his influence on her, she did have the option to permanently leave his side. He didn't know what it was (morbid fascination? A competent ally? Luxurious accommodations? Great sex?), but she stuck with him even though both of them knew very well that if she left, she could find the counter-spell to return her powers. The thought made his chest thud. It was selfish, but he refused the idea that she'd ever leave. I worked for her, becoming the Prince of Darkness, and I would sooner eliminate the world than allow her to leave.

Hearing the change in his heartbeat, she looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. "Something wrong?"

"No."

"Positive?"

"Go back to sleep."

"I wasn't sleeping in the first place," she responded obnoxiously and he felt a swell of a foreign emotion in his chest. Was that... affection?

"Then you should sleep."

"No thanks," she yawned, stretching out against him, breasts pressing on his chest and legs wrapping around his. "If anyone should sleep, it'd be you."

He leaned down and kissed her slowly, sensually. "I am not tired." She kissed him back, cupping a cheek with her hand.

"Then what do you suggest we do?" She watched as another coy look crossed his face and she mirrored it with her own as she pushed him onto his back and sat on his stomach, the sheets pooled at her waist. "Because I have an idea."

"Really?" he asked, trying to sound indifferent, but still amused. "What did you have in mind?"

"How does round four sound?" she asked, leaning forward.

"You're not angry anymore?"

"Angry enough to get me through a few more rounds," she teased, her hair messily falling over her shoulder and onto his chest. He took her face into his hands and pulled her forward to kiss her again, an action she returned, feeling a sense of euphoria that she swore she hasn't felt in fifteen hundred years: not since he'd put her in a compromising headlock once-upon-a-time when he still wore blue. She'd always had a sorts of fancy for the long-haired warrior and while his teacher was powerful, the pupil had this aura of darkness, mystery, and strength that she knew would make him into an amazing Heylin yet and her theory was only proved correct. To say that she'd been excited when she found out that the man below her was now converted would be a drastic understatement. She would've died and revived herself if she hadn't already been a ghost and as it was, Jack hid in a closet for about a week from her after her personal victory. She was snapped out of her thoughts when he pulled slightly away from her to speak.

"Round four it is."

You wear me out, but it's alright now.

A/N: End. :) I hope you guys liked my semi-sweet Valentine's Day rambling. I have a certain fondness for this pairing that is definitely on par with my other XS OTP. :3

Yes. I will update "Where?" soon. When is soon? *Shrug* Please do visit my poll on my profile and vote on the direction for shot number four. :D