Not my best. Disclaimer: I dont own teen titans
You sit in your room, your lavender hair gracing your pale shoulders. You grew it out just a bit, you don't like it. You don't like anything about yourself, though. You don't like your beautiful grey skin, your plum eyes, violet hair. You don't like it because it's you. Your deep plum eyes watch him. His every move. You know he likes it. You're not sure what he's doing, you're not sure why he's here, but he is. He steps closer, and the emotions inside you try to hide. If he saw your fear, or your deep longing…
He reaches out and grabs a strand of your hair. You choke up, just a bit. You look at him, pleading with your eyes. You're not sure what you want though. Your mind says he shouldn't touch you, your heart says he should. You back up a bit, scooting yourself more onto the bed, away from him, until you hit the wall. You stop there, bringing your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around your legs. You start to wonder why he's here, why you haven't yelled or called for help.
All thoughts fade away as he steps closer, reaching his hand up to you. He softly brushes his thumb against your cheek. You melt to his touch, you flush paler than ever before. You let go of your legs, letting them slide down straight, lifelessly. He cocks his head to the side, trying to understand your reaction. He crawls onto the bed with the grace of a cat. You can't see his eyes, but you can only imagine that he's leering at you.
You watch though, not much to do. You analyze his movements, wonder what he's doing. You're vulnerable, an easy target already. He placing one hand delicately on your hip. You watch him, only seeing that skull mask of his. He squeezes your side just a bit, and slowly climbs on top of you. He's visited before, you've seen him. He hasn't touched you. He only watched you. You find him straddling you. Why are you still sitting there? Your breath comes in short gasps, you're nervous. You're scared. You know he has you. No matter what he does, he has you. He won't kill you, but you're not afraid of that. What are you afraid of?
You feel his cocky air. He's arrogant, selfish, cocky, possessive, and you want him. You know he wants you, and you're afraid that you may want him too. You don't love him. You can't love. He places one finger beneath your chin, positioning your head to look up at him. You can see he has his mask lifted. You can see his square jaw, full lips. He leans down, kissing you. The kiss his rough, hard. It's possessive, because you know he's a thief. If he wants something, he takes it. He's selfish, watching out for himself and himself only. Is that what you're scared of? Him getting what he wants then leaving?
He leaves the kiss at that, only his lips on yours. He's waiting. Waiting for you to continue it. You know this, the moment you deepen the kiss you lose this game. That's what he is. He's all games. You know it's his game. There's no winning it. But maybe you don't want to. He's about dominance, control. He had it over you from the minute he walked in. You know this. What are you going to do about it? Nothing.
He pulls away from you, placing kisses down your jaw line. He slips his hand up your shirt, you feel his hand snake north. You lean your head back, giving his more canvas to do his art. He kisses the crook of your neck as his hand cups your breast. He looks up at you, searching for emotion. That's what he wants. That's his prize. You give him a lifeless glance. He continues then. He brings his hand back down, circling around your belly button. He brings his lips back to yours. You like this sensation he gives you. You want more. You want him to touch you, kiss you. When he kisses you, you part your lips for him. You want him to invade. Why hasn't he yet? You start to wonder why you want him to anyways.
You close your eyes, pulling his chest closer to you. He takes the message and slips his tongue into your mouth. His hand goes down your pants, and you know that you've let him go too far. You know that like a good thief, he made it to his destination, he's going to get what he wants whether you give it to him or he takes it. You kiss him though, you want him to continue, you know you do.
You let him slip off your shirt, knowing where this is going. He takes off his shirt too, and you admire his chest. You run a hand over it, loving the feel. He's warmth. He's danger. He's mystery. He's sexy. He's passion. He's not judging you. You know he's not. That's why you let him continue. You moan as he touches you, as he kisses you. You want him just as much as he wants you. You hope that's a lot. It seems that way. He holds you, laying back so you're on top of him. You lean down and kiss him again. He slides off your shorts. No turning back. Your hair borders his face as you continue to kiss him. You start to like the aura emanating off of him. This devouring hunger, possessive passion. You continue to kiss him, your hair a curtain around your face. He pulls your hips down to his, you sit atop of him. Your finger tracing his six pack, reaching down and undoing his belt. Then as he pulls off his pants, you trace the muscle on his arms. You kiss his neck, blow into his ear. This goes against all your being. What happened? How'd he change you?
You don't judge him. The fact that he steals, the fact that he's selfish, the fact that he came here in the first place. He doesn't judge you. He doesn't judge your past, your problems. He knows what it's like to have issues, he has his own. He understands you. It's hard to believe that anyone can, but as you trace the scars along his sides, you do. You understand him too.
When you wake up the next morning, your clothes on the floor, his shirt under your head as a pillow, you don't judge the fact that he's not there. You just clean up. You wonder when he's coming back. You wish that he does. You pray that he does. When he does come back, he doesn't judge the fact that you waited for him, just appreciates. You appreciate that he comes back. You appreciate that he came in the first place. He appreciates that you don't tell anyone, that you welcome him. So as long as he visits, you won't judge him. You'll appreciate his presence.