Disclaimer: If I owned anything, other than the story, I'd be on the Bahamas or in New York...well anyways throwing my money out...which I'm obviously not.

Warnings: What happens when you mix Clarisse and Joseph with Alice Cooper and then throw in a little sex? Well...anyways, consider yourself warned.----- Also, if the idea of OPS (Older People Sex) and/or Clarisse&Joseph nauseates you - Do the Rockford-turn NOW!

All the others: enjoy

"Poisoned"

Your cruel device
Your blood, like ice
One look could kill
My pain, your thrill

The wind was ripping on his frame, coming from the sea. The day was sunny after the thunderstorm of last night – calm, quiet, with only a few white clouds sailing across the blue sky.

For the man in black, however, the day could not be darker.

The wind ripped again, becoming stronger when he turned the accelerator harder. The machine he was riding took a bit of a lurch, but roared and flew down the road.

The wind was ripping on his body, pushing the black cycling combination against his body, but the feeling only brought more memories back to him.

I want to love you but I better not
Touch (don't touch)

The electric tingling in his finger tips when they grazed her neck. Her hand, how it had trembled in his, when he had lead her to the chair. How it was like an electric current, when their fingers intertwined as they soared together…

I want to hold you but my senses
Tell me to stop

Dancing with her had always been a favourite of his, the warmth spreading through him as they swayed to soft and suggestive classical music in her suite. Her body, how it had moulded against his, when they sank together onto the sheets. How safely and perfectly she had fitted into his arms, when they lay stunned in the afterglow.

I want to kiss you but I want it too
Much (too much)

He had always liked kissing her hand; it was after all his only chance to ever bring his lips safely to her skin. Now, he knew he could never be even remotely satisfied with this meagre contact anymore. Not after he had tasted the sweetness of her body.

I want to taste you but your lips
Are venomous poison

He had dreamed forever it seemed, of touching her, of cradling her body, but what he craved most was her mouth, those perfectly shaped lips touching his. Tasting her mouth, getting lost in the feeling of her lips pressed desperately against his as passion overtook them.

He had known of course that this was dangerous. He was risking his life. She was branding him, making him forever lost to any other.

You're poison running through my
Veins

He knew he could not have her, should not have her, yet the first moment their lips had touched, he was infected. All he had wanted to do was run his lips over her body, taste her skin, taste her essence, and taste her. He was intoxicated by everything that was her: her beauty, her scent, her sway, and her sighs.

He had felt it rushing through his veins, his blood filling with her, his mind losing its rule over him, when the poison she was, took over.

You're poison, I don't want to
Break these chains

One night it had been, one night so full of unexpected but so desperately craved passion and if he had not been hers before, he was now. All he would ever be now, would be directly tied to her. Was he drugged? Was he addicted? Was he enslaved?

Yes he was, all of the above and then some.

He had never been one to try anything that would make him a slave to something, but now he had found it. The poison that would make him live or die.

Your mouth, so hot
Your web, I'm caught
Your skin, so wet
Black lace on sweat

She had poisoned him with her body that he had held and worshipped last night. With her sighs and gasps that he had drawn from her with his hands and his mouth. With her scent that had enveloped him even before he had touched her and that had taken a whole new quality when mixed with their mingled essences.

But it had been more than just her reactions to him that had left him poisoned. Her hands as they travelled over his body scorching his flesh with the raw heat he felt from her touch. Her nails raking over his back, when she lost her last inhibitions in the throes of passion. Her tongue as it left a moist and oh so hot web on his skin.

He felt as if he was still burning from her touch. The mere memory of her skin seemingly glued to his by the moisture left by their exertions, by the wetness telling tale how ardent their meeting had been.

The tempting undergarments she had worn underneath that enticing yet proper peach coloured ball gown. Every bit the queen for all the world to see, but once the gown had slid down her body revealing to his widening eyes the black lace that 'uncovered' her body to his gaze, there was no doubt about it that the prim and proper had no place between them that night. That was not the queen – it was a goddess: alluring, tempting, dangerous and so irresistible.

I hear you calling and it's needles
And pins (and pins)

It had been then that he had closed the distance between them, rushing to her like a moth to the flame.

She had called him like a siren called unsuspecting sailors, luring him in, bringing him under her spell.

It was not only her voice, breathy and dark, that called to him, leaving him without a will of his own. It was not her words that set him off. It was the expression in her eyes – seductive, knowing and full of promise that had drawn him to her. It had been the sight of her, standing almost naked in nothing more than black lace, stockings and shoes…

Gods, the mere thought of it bothered his barely cooled body.

I want to hurt you just to hear you
Screaming my name

The thought had flashed through his mind, as he had become so lost on the poisonous twirl that was their passion. Hurting her – not much – just a bit to enhance her pleasure, making her as mindless in ecstasy as he was. Oh how he had craved her voice, her sounds of pleasure and passion. They had urged him to run his hands over her body, touch her in places she had not been touched for years, if ever. Urged him to taste her with his lips and his tongue until she writhed underneath him. Until she screamed his name in abandon.

Don't want to touch you but
You're under my skin (deep in)

He had never wanted to go that far, knowing that the moment he touched her, he would be lost. She had not stolen into his heart, she had marched into it, occupying his waking and sleeping thoughts, dreams and fantasies.

There had not been another, who could touch him so deep in his soul, who could make him lose his control. He had been hers long before she ever laid the claim and knowing their situation, he had done everything not to give her an opening.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done, becoming only bearable knowing that she was struggling just as much. This last night had been a long time in coming, their growing desire simmering just underneath the surface for months, if not years. That dance, a few days ago, had only magnified what had been there.

I want to kiss you but your lips
Are venomous poison

He had almost kissed her that day in the ballroom. She had been so close, moulded against his body even as the last strains of the sensual music had drifted off and the rhythm of their dance had only been marked by the wild beat of their hearts. Her heady perfume had enveloped him then, drawing him nearer and nearer.

And then her lips had been scant inches from his, her breath mingling with his – all he would have had to do was shiver a little and they would have touched. The electric currents were flying wild, yet he had restrained himself from doing what would have been so easy then – and so deadly.

They could not, should not, may not – he knew that and yet, he could not keep from wanting to play with the danger.

You're poison running through my veins
You're poison, I don't wanna
Break these chains

The poison that was his desire for her had been poured into his soul too long a time ago to help him not wanting it.

She was on his mind, in his dreams and in his fantasies every single day and every single night of his life. She was his joy and his pain. His greatest fear and his only salvation.

She was the drug he had smelled for a long time, the drug he had craved to see, the drug he had wanted to possess.

She was the drug that was in his system from the first moment of their acquaintance and last night – last night he had finally tasted the drug that was her.

Poison

Now, she was in his blood, her essence mingled with his. Her screams were branded into his eardrums, her nails had cut a pattern into his skin, her tongue had tasted his body, spreading a never known heat all over his skin, her frenzied and mindless movements against his were the rhythm his soul danced to now, the grip of her body on his was the eternal chain with which she kept him prisoner.

She was his poison – the poison to make him live or die. The poison that filled his heart and his soul.

And he knew that he never wanted to be cured from this venom.

His addiction was eternal now. Eternal and irrevocable.

And all he ever wanted…

One look could kill
My pain, your thrill

Why had he taken out the motorcycle then and started racing mindlessly along the California shore? Why did he let the wind whip against his body, instead of looking at her and pulling her into a quiet corner for a taste of his drug?

Why had he stealthily left her bed before dawn, when she was still sleeping?

He knew one look from her would shatter it. One look with even the slightest trace of regret, of shame would shatter it, would shatter him.

He could not face her, could not stand even the thought she might be professional and aloof this morning. Hiding her feelings, hiding her poisoning from the world and from him.

That was his greatest fear now. That she might have remembered her duty, before the beauty and completeness of last night.

The perfection their mutual poisoning had created.

Poison

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