A/N: Well...the end of the schoolyear, I downloaded an Alice Cooper song "School's out" and came across another one "Poison". And I just had to write a story with it. When i posted it, I was asked to write another...and well...what can I say...I was inspired...grin And so, here it is...

Disclaimer: I still own nothing...my bank account can tell sigh

Warning: What happens when you mix Clarisse and Joseph with Alice Cooper and then throw in a little sex? Well...consider yourself warned giggle

Enjoy...

"Drugged"

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

She was fighting against the light that shone through the curtains of her bedroom. Light meant reality and she already knew that she didn't want to face it. Not today.

Reality was that she was alone this morning. Alone with the smell of him, of her, of them together on the sheets. Alone with the memory, with the tingling. Alone with reality.

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

The pain of reality was almost as overpowering as the desire to have more of this. She wanted to hide beneath the sheets, wanted to bury her face in the smell of them and drown in it.

What's more, she wanted him here with her. To feel again what had been her entire universe last night.

His fingertips like feather on her skin, his lips brushing with the sweetest warmth, his tongue branding a moist trail of fire over her body, his manhood filling her.

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

How protective his arms were. Even when their desire had become a raging inferno throwing them both into mindlessness, his arms were the safest and most gentle place on earth.

She had felt as if she stepped into a whole new existence, when she had stepped into his embrace to dance to the sensual classical music. Gods, that dancing could be so much more than just performing the steps. Swaying sensually together, enacting a play their bodies would repeat in earnest only minutes later.

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

What exactly made him so attractive and desirable, she was not certain. She had been asking herself that for some time now. Maybe it was all that black clothing he wore. The man of mystery – enticing, fascinating, dangerous.

Oh dangerous, alright.

Dangerous he was.

For her.

Yet, to resist him and the urge to kiss him was unfathomable. No, she could not. Not since their dance a few days ago, when their bodies had been so close that their lips had almost touched, that she had breathed his breath.

Oh she wanted to kiss him. Again. Again.

I want to taste you but your lips
Are venomous poison

Kissing him was like stilling a thirst that could never be stilled. Not after she had her first taste of him. One kiss and she could never be without him, without his kisses. She'd had to touch those sensual lips again and again, taste his mouth…

You're poison running through my
Veins

It was not only his mouth she wanted to taste forever. She wanted all of his body. Run her hands over his chest, scrape her nails over and into his skin when the incredible tightness in her lower abdomen was twirling tighter and tighter, cramp her fingers into his back as she moved frantically against him.

He intoxicated her. So much of that sweet poison had he given her – of the incredible, unknown feelings he had given her to experience. Flying to the stars and back in each other's arms. Screaming his name in abandon. Hearing him shout hers as his essence filled her.

His essence that now possessed her, centring in her dreams and fantasies.

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

So long had it been a fantasy of hers to be with him. Forbidden always, completely rejected in the beginning, then a guilty pleasure and finally the centre of her wishes and her desires.

Of course, she knew it was madness wanting him. It was dangerous. Impossible. Having him could only mean more of the madness, more of something she could not have, should not have. But how was she supposed to live without it now that she had tasted the insanity of his touch that had poisoned her.

He had poisoned her and she had become addicted to the poison that was their touch, their flame, their wildness and bliss.

How could she live without it now?

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

It was a dangerous game she had planned on playing, so much she had known from the very beginning. When she had taken the lacy black underwear out of the deepest corner of her drawers, she had secretly imagined, how it would be when his hands would run over the material. The rush of desire had been there then. It had only strengthened, when she had donned the suspenders and black stockings and imagined the expression in his eyes when he would see her sans the pretty, but modest, peach gown only dressed in black lace.

For his eyes only.

Oh, but she could have never prepared for his reaction. Not for the wild look in his desire-filled black eyes. Not for the force with which he had hauled her against him, not for the searing kisses he rained over her body, not for the burning meeting of their mouths and tongues.

Gods, she had never imagined that being branded could be so much. So much heat, so much fire, so addictive…

It was like a flame that turned into a raging inferno, only to be quelled by the mixing of wetness on their skins. The air was full of their smell – their sweat mingling as their bodies moved against each other, cradled each other; their essences flowed together in the heights of passion. The air was full of them – intoxicatingly sweet and heady. Poisonous.

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

She orchestrated their meeting carefully. So long had she resisted the temptation, but no longer. Their dance that afternoon a few days ago had made it clear to her. Too long had she resisted his call.

His call to show her the pleasures of life. The pleasure to smile, to laugh even. The pleasure to have somebody to talk to. But most importantly, the pleasure of being a woman. Not a queen, not a mother, not a ruler. Just a woman. A woman discovering what it meant to be female and feminine and yes, sensual.

So long had he called for her to show this side of her. So long without words, without anything, yet she had known. Eyes didn't lie.

He had called for her.

Their dance had been the signal. He had said those few words to her that made her walls, her protections, crumble. All she had been hiding behind, he had shattered with a few words. All the defensive tactics she might have pulled he had destroyed, when he took her hand and led her onto the floor, guiding her through the music. Swaying her body sensually, swaying his against hers irresistibly.

Those few words, spoken in his low voice that made her skin tingle, the slight accent, that made her blood boil, barely audible. Oh, she was addicted to his voice.

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

She'd do anything to have him talk to her alone, his breath tickling her ear as he growled sweet nothings to her. His sexy voice whispering to her, growling in her ear, shouting her name in ecstasy, telling her in all detail, what he wanted to do to her.

She shivered just at the memory. How he had told her of each of the pleasures he had in store for her, how she had moaned and then jerked just from hearing it. How she had screamed, when he made good on his promises.

How she had repaid each and every favour. Running her hands over his body, following the trails of her hands with her mouth and tongue. She had urged him on breathlessly, had dug her fingers into his shoulders, sank her nails and her teeth into his skin, marking him, marking him as hers, making him scream in abandon.

The power they held over each other now.

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

Judging from how she felt this morning, craving his presence and his touch, it was a dangerous power.

Of course, she had known that they could not touch, should not touch, may not touch. Not ever. She had imagined that once they touched, they could never let go. Never before had she feared to be right so much. Never before had she cared less about it.

It was not quite clear, when she had known that she was falling in love with him. Actually, she had not even realized it. He had simply snuck up and stolen himself into her heart and before she was even aware of it, he held her heart completely. Even when he started to occupy most of her waking moments and almost every dream and every fantasy, had she not realized it. Until one day, in the blink of an eye, she had looked at him and stiffened.

Stiffened with the knowledge that she felt more for him. Much more than she was allowed. Much more than he was allowed to make her feel.

The day she had realized that those feelings equalled love remained one of the darkest, yet most exciting days of her life.

And now, she could never let go of him. He had infused his poison into her. She was his now.

I want to kiss you but your lips
Are venomous poison

She was his: his victim, his slave, his addict. She was all of it, but she couldn't feel any shame or guilt about it.

She wanted to have him here again. Wanted to see him, wanted to undress him in broad daylight, expose his skin, show the marks she had left, add a few more, run her hands over his sculpted muscles, rub her body against his, tangle her tongue with his in a mad play that aroused her beyond reason. Wanted to taste him again: his skin, his mouth, his body. All of it. Kiss her way from head to toe and back…

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

Oh God, she must get a grip of herself. Those thoughts bordered on insanity. Never had she lost her control so much. Never had she lost her sense so much, but oh how well it was replaced with her senses.

He had brought her senses to life again. Now they were only there to experience him: the smells of his cologne and his body as they mingled with hers, the texture of his skin under her palms and fingers and tongue, the planes of his hard and well-trained body – she could watch them, trace them, taste them forever, the sounds he made when she touched him, when he lost himself in her, in their love-making, his shouts as he emptied himself into her. And the feel of that moment, when he filled her… Oh God, the feel of that moment had her craving for more.

It was like the sweetest poison, she could have ever encountered and she wanted more of it.

Poison

She was addicted to him, had been before, but there had always been a way out. That was over now. She was his. Could never, would never imagine any other man coming near her.

He had poisoned her – with the sweetest drug that filled her heart, her body and her soul. It was this poison that would now shape her life. The poison she could not live without anymore.

Her addiction to him was eternal. Eternal and irrevocable.

And all she ever imagined…

One look could kill
My pain, your thrill

But in the bright light of the morning she was alone in her bed, in this room that still smelled like them, felt like them.

As much as she wished, she could not stay in here forever, hoping that he would return and they could lose themselves in their own universe of love and sensuality.

It was daylight again and with it had come the memory of her duty. Waking up alone was the cruellest way he could have chosen to remind her. She was queen and he was an employee. She was not free to live her addiction – not without risking a major scandal.

She had to face people today, tomorrow and every following day and see how they viewed her. In their eyes, she was no woman, who simply lived her femininity. She was queen, ruler and a grandmother shaping the future monarch. In the eyes of people, she had no right to be anything else.

She feared those eyes, but even more so she feared his. Feared that he may regret their night. Feared that he might be more dedicated to their duty, than to the bliss and completeness of last night.

The perfection their mutual poisoning had created.

Poison


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