Hey guys! Sorry, I know. What you really wanna see is Puzzle Pieces. Well, I just found my external hard drive (FINALLY!) so we should have updates within a week or two. This originated from a conversation with my boyfriend (no, it wasn't X rated, it was about John Tucker Must Die. :P

Anyways, who's ready for some shameless smut? CUZ I KNOW I AM! :D :D :D

Lol. Kidding. Mostly.\

Not really.

With a tired moan, Camry sat up and half-crawled, half-stumbled to the alarm clock on the bookshelf at the end of the bed. She hit the off button with deft accuracy and backed up, scooting back into her spot in bed.

A hand struck her face. "Get up."

She opened her eyes and smiled, stretching. "Good morning." It was as if she was completely oblivious to the mark on her cheek.

Drake glared down at her. "I said Get. Up."

"Up for school or the fun kind of up?" Camry asked, yawning and pushing herself into a mostly upright position.

"The school kind of up. Oh, and dress sexy today." With a final smirk, Drake slid fully out of bed, pulled on his boxers, and walked out of her room, slamming the door loud enough to make her flinch on his way out.

Camry groaned again, but stumbled to her closet and rifled through her meager amount of clothes. She'd come to Coates with nothing but two pairs of ripped up thrift store jeans and five baggy t-shirts that were hand-me-downs from her last boyfriend, Trevor. Everything in the closet now had appeared one day when the clothes she'd brought "mysteriously" disappeared into the kitchen's incinerator. "It's odd," Camry had said. "I swear to you that the clothes in my closet look just like the ones you were fawning over wanting to dress me in from that Vicky's catalogue I saw the other day.

Diana shrugged innocently. "I have no idea what you're talking about." She shoved her lollipop back into her mouth, looking for all the world a complete angel, all while sliding her tongue up and down the candy in a perfect mime; "accidentally" making Caine rock hard behind his desk.

The high school level students at Coates were allowed the "very special privilege" of wearing their own clothes on Fridays as well as weekends. As seniors, they would be given Mondays and Wednesdays as well. But alas, Camry was not a senior, so she picked out a lacy blue top and tight dress pants that hugged her hips. "If you squint," Diana had said. "You might even look like you have an ass. Except for the fact that you don't." She smiled sweetly.

I'll take her indirect bitchy kindness over the hellion she is to most people any day, Camry told herself, shivering at the memories of Diana's "almost" niceties.

Camry was lucky to be where she was, she knew. She was lucky that she had any status at all. It was Drake that made that happen. It was Drake that made her into a somebody. To most people, she was a nobody. She'd always been a nobody. Until now.

Don't forget, she told herself. Odysseus called himself Nobody to Polyphemus and he became a tragic hero known for generations to come. Then she smacked herself on the forehead. And this is why you're invisible.

She was definitely lucky to have Drake.

Five minutes later, just as she was finishing the last touches on her makeup and hair, Drake unlocked her door with the spare key he'd made one day. "You're ready, right?"

She stepped out of her bathroom. "Of course."

"Well?" he demanded. "Then let's fucking GO!"

She grabbed her bag and followed him without another word. They made it halfway to breakfast before Drake grabbed her arm violently. "Why the hell aren't you wearing the necklace?"

"Wh-what?" she sputtered.

"The necklace. Why aren't you wearing it?"

She reached into her shirt and pulled it out, adjusting it. "The shirt just comes too high is all. I'm wearing it, Drake," she said evenly, just to antagonize him further.

It worked. Drake slammed her against a wall and mashed his lips against hers. Their teeth clacked and she happily kissed him back. She felt the hardness of his chest against hers and moaned. He pulled away abruptly, smirking. She pouted. "Tease."

He barked a sharp laugh and smacked her on the rear end. "Someone here has to be. Since you can't even manage to dress yourself properly. This? This is not sexy. This is visit to grandma's house."

"Grandma was a wolf, if you remember," Camry countered.

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

The dining hall was already nearly full when they arrived, two make-out sessions later. Bruises were forming on Camry's upper arms, hidden beneath her sleeves, and a butterfly Band-Aid was keeping a small knife slit closed on her lower back.

Diana smirked as she saw them coming. "Well hello there. Good morning Manwhore. Mrs. Slut. How was your fuck last night? Did you rut like rabbits? You must have, because the whole dorm hall heard you."

Drake smirked proudly, raking his hungry eyes over Camry's body. "We had a great time. Not that a prude like you would understand, Diana. It's okay. I'm sure Caine will deflower you eventually. Or…not." His smirk lowered into a shark's grin at her disgusted face.

Camry quietly turned the page in her book.

It had been less than 30 seconds since the last bell rang and Camry was already pinned against a wall. She was rounding the corner, having just been dismissed from her biology class, when she was dragged out of the hall and into a janitorial closet. She kissed Drake back hungrily, working her way down to his jaw as he bit her ear roughly. "You couldn't wait," she gasped, "for a classroom to empty out? It's been a while since we-Ah!" She cried out as he pinched her nipple beneath her bra. "-did it on a desk."

"Did what?" Drake growled. "Say the damn word, you fucking prude."

"Fucked, since we fucked on a damn desk!" Camry cried, glad for the generator behind them making enough noise to cover their voices.

"Oh you liked that, did you?" Drake opened the button on her pants, yanking them down roughly. "Which was your favorite?"

Camry moaned, wishing he'd shut up but knowing he wouldn't, just because it tortured her. "Mrs. Wiltshire's desk."

He pulled back, surprised. "The English teacher? Seriously?"

She blinked innocently. "Drake, think about it. I like books. I like words. We did it on the desk of a despicable woman who knows nothing about words and couldn't form a legitimate sentence if her life depended on it."

He shrugged. "So hating the teach makes it better? Really?"

"Uhn, yes, could you please just fuck me already?"

He slapped her. "Don't be impatient." Then he shoved her to her knees and tapped her cheeks. "Open."

She opened her mouth obediently and he shoved his cock in. She gagged slightly, but managed to refrain from pushing him out. She was used to the discomfort, really. "Swallow when I come," he reminded her. As if she needed telling.

Unexpectedly, he stopped before he came and pulled her back up to a standing position. "Turn," he ordered. She turned around and he shoved into her, making her cry out in a mixture of pain and ecstasy. Then she settled into silence, only gasping occasionally. He stopped. "You don't seem to be enjoying yourself."

She glanced over her shoulder. "Drake…I need…" she whispered, her eyes hazy.

Drake snorted. How could he forget? "Let's get another letter in, yeah?"

Her eyes widened. "Here?"

"What? Afraid of infection? You crazy little bitch. Have you seen where this knife has been? And you're afraid of a closet? How pathetic. Might get Aids and you're worried about the floor." That was a lie. He reserved this knife for her and her alone. No one else's blood touched his special knife.

She moaned and arched her back for him. Gleefully, he began to carve into her skin, thrusting hard against her. She cried out in pain and then gasped and shuddered, moaning. He'd just finished the center line of the A he was carving when she came. He grabbed her under the arms as her legs gave out and she rode out the orgasm. He came quickly and quietly, without any cries or shaking limbs. He was well practiced in not damaging his favorite toy.

Only toy, really, as he had often mused. She was special. Others might have satisfied him briefly, but once he'd found Camry…no one else was as satisfying anymore.

It must be the willingness, he'd frequently thought. The utter desire to please me. The enjoyment she gets from it. She's a…kindred spirit, in a sense.

He pulled out of her and, in a brief moment of what might have been compassion with anyone else, but was most definitely logic in the case of Drake Merwin, handed her a roll of paper towels that was on the shelf to his left. She wiped the inside of her legs and placed a wad of folded paper towel in her underwear to avoid dripping until she could shower.

As she cleaned herself up, she admired how stealthy Drake could be. Already he was rolling the condom (she wondered when he'd even put one on) into her wad of paper towel and spraying it with cleaning solvent. He tossed it in one of the trash bins and notched his belt tighter. "Ready to go?"

She smiled and nodded. "Definitely. I'm starving." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as they exited the closet. "I'm thinking sandwiches."

She wasn't sure, but he might have almost smiled.

So this might be a little twisted, but here's my playlist I was listening to (in order.)

Whispers in the Dark-Skillet

Driftin'-Dirty Heads

Scar Tissue- RHCP

The Ballad of Mona Lisa-Panic! At the Disco

Epic-Faith No More

Never Said It-Papa Roach

Lovely, right?

Anyways, you know the drill. Review if you want. Don't if you don't want to. I don't really care. I'll know if you read this from the story stats on my account.

Ciao!