AN: This is a sequel to A Good Reason and Another Good Reason. It takes place in Season 2, post-breakup. Warning for heavy use of a strap-on.

. . .

A Terrible Reason

. . .

I really shouldn't be doing this.

The thought echoes in her head as Carmilla's lithe body shifts on top of hers, rolling rhythmically with each thrust. Laura can feel her taut, twitching muscles, hear her ragged breaths, sense her hunger. But Carmilla won't drink from her anymore. That part of their relationship is gone, shattered along with all her naive hopes. The only thing left is this. The burning, stinging stretch that some sick part of her enjoys as the shaft jutting from between Carmilla's legs pumps in and out of her.

I really, really shouldn't be doing this.

She hates it, and she hates that her body loves it. The harsh treatment should hurt, but instead, it coaxes ripples of pleasure along her inner walls. She resents her body's responses, but it doesn't stop her from gasping and shivering around the thick length every time it bottoms out. Carmilla's hips are angled just enough to catch her clit, and she has to dig her teeth into her lower lip to keep from screaming. She won't make herself vulnerable. Won't allow Carmilla that satisfaction, even while her ex-lover is buried to the hilt inside of her.

I really, really, really shouldn't be doing this.

But Carmilla seems determined to draw some kind of reaction from her. When her slow, deliberate pace doesn't produce the desired results, she speeds up. Soon, the predictable in and out, the tension and release, builds to a steady, aching pressure. Laura can't help but hiss as she rakes her nails along Carmilla's back. She hopes it hurts. She wants to share at least a little of her pain, purge some small share of the bitterness that's choking her.

Why did she have to be such an awful girlfriend? And why does she have to be such a good, stupid fuck?

Although she considers herself a practical person, she does have a romantic side. Before Carmilla - No, be specific. Before the disaster that is Carmilla broke my heart into a thousand pieces - she believed in the storybooks. In true love, in the purity of the human soul, in happily-ever-afters. But love is a lie, vampires aren't human, and her happily-ever-after lasted less than a semester.

The only decent salvage to come from their wrecked relationship is the sex. It's intense. Primal. Violent in a beautiful sort of way, and far less inhibited now that they're no longer together. She doesn't care what Carmilla thinks of her (or, at least, that's what she tells herself in the mirror every morning). She isn't concerned with giving pleasure. Pleasure is something she takes, and that she allows Carmilla to take from her as well only because it's unavoidable.

She hooks her knee around Carmilla's hip, dragging her deeper and seizing back some control. Even when she's pinned to the bed beneath Carmilla's weight, split open around her cock, she refuses to submit. I'm doing this because I want to, she reminds herself as she clutches tight around the shaft, determined to milk as much pleasure from the penetration as possible. Because I can. But deep down, she knows that isn't entirely accurate. She's doing it because she needs to. Because some stupid part of her can't let go. She wants something, even if it's this. Even if it's horrible.

Carmilla's cool hand slides along her side, gripping her thigh for more leverage. It's a possessive gesture, a sign of dominance Laura is reluctant to allow her, but then the blunt head slams into the swollen place along her front wall, and she can't even breathe. She despises how easily Carmilla can pull reactions from her body. Every time she thinks about how it used to be, all soft touches and sweet endearments, it makes her boil with anger and resentment. She's angry at Carmilla for ruining everything, and resentful of herself for staying too wrapped up in the dream to see reality.

Hot lips skim her throat, sliding dangerous close to her pulse point. "Just come already," Carmilla pants into her neck. Perhaps it's her imagination, but Laura is certain that she can feel the barest pinprick of Carmilla's fangs dragging against her skin. "I know you want to. I can feel you squeezing around me."

She decides to take advantage of the suggestion, bearing down with her muscles until a strangled moan vibrates against her shoulder. Carmilla isn't the only one who's learned a few tricks over the course of their doomed relationship. Sometimes, she can even put aside her own pleasure long enough to make Carmilla come first. It's become something like a competition between them: Who can last the longest, who can remain the most disaffected. She isn't sure she'll win today, but damn if she isn't going to try.

The next time Carmilla pumps into her, she tightens her knee even further, refusing to let her pull out. The low groan becomes a snarl of frustration, and Carmilla's upper body jerks away, her upper lip peeling back over her teeth. "What the hell are you doing?" she hisses, eyes narrowing to slits.

Laura isn't shaken by her fury. Carmilla is much stronger than she is, but she manages to use surprise to her advantage, tangling their legs together and rolling to the side. They tumble until she's kneeling above Carmilla's lap. The shaft of Carmilla's cock has slipped part-way out of her, but she takes the last few inches back inside with a smooth push of her hips. "Getting us both off faster," she says, reaching between her legs to work her fingers against the stiff bud of her clit. "Just because I'm fucking you doesn't mean I want to have to look at you all day."

Carmilla rolls her eyes, but doesn't try to flip them again. She attempts to maintain her bored expression, but the subtle flush on her face gives her away. Laura can't help but take some pride in it. Carmilla doesn't have much blood to spare, and it isn't easy to make her blush. She picks up a steady rhythm, making sure to grind her hips forward on every downstroke. She can't see much beneath the harness, but the way Carmilla's fists bunch the covers tell her the shorter end of the toy has to be rubbing in the right place.

It's enough to prompt a slight rebellion. Carmilla seizes her hip in one hand, trying to take control of her movements. The other slides between her legs, brushing her fingers aside and pinching the swollen point of her clit. She drags her fingers roughly along the shaft, and Laura can't stifle a cry of approval. She chews on the inside of her cheek again, frustrated with herself for slipping up. She doesn't deserve to hear me. She doesn't even care whether I'm really enjoying this or not. She's only trying to make me come to prove a point. To prove she can.

But if Carmilla can play dirty, so can she. She clenches her muscles as tight as she can, dragging up and down along the firm length. Each stroke pushes the seat of the toy directly into Carmilla's clit, and she relishes every muffled grunt she's able to force out from beneath her. The grip on her hip changes from controlling to desperate. It's still bruising, but there is a subtle difference. Laura doesn't need to look down into Carmilla's eyes to tell that she's almost won. Just a few more thrusts, and...

Shit. Stars explode behind her eyes as Carmilla pushes herself into a position with better leverage, changing the angle between their bodies. The next stroke batters the swollen spot against her front wall, and her clit twitches wildly, trapped beneath Carmilla's swiftly circling fingers. Shit. Shit. Shit. She doesn't play fair. She worries her lip, trying to ride out the shudders that rip through her every time Carmilla moves, but it's useless. She's going to come, and there's nothing she can do to stop it.

"I hate you," she mutters, simmering in her own anger to try and stall off her orgasm a little longer.

"I know you do, Cupcake. But right now, I don't give a shit." The sharp needles of Carmilla's teeth trap her earlobe, tugging firmly without breaking the skin. Their relationship is too ugly for kisses, and too broken for a bite. The slight pain is the closest possible thing to a gesture of affection she's ever going to get from Carmilla again, and furious tears sting at her eyes. But she doesn't let them fall. Won't let them fall.

Fuck this. I'm going to make her give a shit. If she makes me come, I'm making her come with me.

She breaks free of Carmilla's hold long enough to slam back down on her cock, abandoning both of opposing rhythms they've tried to set. She tangles her fingers in Carmilla's hair, tugging too hard, and jerks her hips forward. It causes the head to batter against that awful spot inside her one last time, but it also puts an intense amount of pressure between Carmilla's legs.

Before she knows if she's succeeded or not, her inner walls begin pulse, and the fullness inside her bursts. She can't control it. All she can do is scream and squeeze her eyes shut as a rush of heat floods out around the shaft splitting her apart. She buries Carmilla's stupid, beautiful face in the very back of her mind and latches on to the physical sensations, to the sense of relief, to the bliss that courses through her with each contraction. At least she still has this. Something good enough to tear her to pieces.

Then, she feels it. The fingers against her clit slip out of place, and Carmilla jerks up one last time, going completely stiff. The thick length inside her drives just a little deeper, a little too far, but the brief discomfort is worth it. She's proven once again that her loss isn't one sided. Carmilla might claim to hate her, declare she's glad they're over, but she's lost something, too. Otherwise, she wouldn't keep coming back.

Soon, they're coming together, moving fluidly instead of fighting. Their bodies remember each other and surrender to instinct. Every time she flutters around Carmilla's cock, another burst of wetness splashes over their tense thighs. The harness beneath her is soaked, but Laura knows it isn't all her fault. Half the mess is Carmilla's, and the heat running between them grows every time her lean hips move. Her choking gasps of pleasure finally convince Laura to open her eyes. The look on Carmilla's face is worth it. It's a mess of rage and rapture, and compared to the frustrating blank stare she usually wears, it's intensely satisfying.

She doesn't love me anymore. Maybe even hates me. But hate isn't the opposite of love. They're the same damn thing.

They buck and writhe and remain tangled up in each other until the last of the aftershocks have been wrung from their shuddering bodies. Once it's finished, Laura can't stand to let their skin touch Carmilla's anymore. She dismounts as quickly as she can, ignoring the way her muscles cramp in protest at the sudden emptiness. Before their breakup, she would have begged for Carmilla to flip them again, to remain inside her and stroke her hair and whisper loving things into her lips. But that part of their relationship is over, and she wants this poor substitute to be over, too.

She tries not to watch as Carmilla unbuckles her harness and removes the glistening shaft from between her legs. The sound of a low groan sends a shiver down her spine, but she ignores it as best she can, rummaging amidst the messy covers for her underwear. At least she doesn't have to look for her shirt and bra. She never even bothered taking them off. Carmilla doesn't deserve her nakedness anymore.

Once her jeans are snug around her hips, she stands up and heads for door. She's in desperate need of a shower. Her clothes will probably have to go straight in the laundry hamper. They're damp with sweat and other things, and she definitely smells like sex. Hopefully she can get cleaned up before someone sees her. She doesn't want anyone else to know about this. She isn't even sure she would be able to answer their questions.

"Hey, Cupcake…"

The hoarse rasp of Carmilla's voice startles her. Reluctantly, she turns back around. "What?"

Carmilla is still lounging on the bed sans pants, having made no effort to bundle the ruined sheets or put away the soaked cock and harness resting next to her thigh. Laura wills herself not to look between Carmilla's legs. She's too emotionally drained for a second round, and she can't bear to give Carmilla yet another reason to be smug. "Thanks for the fuck."

"Whatever. Don't be condescending. And quit it with the nicknames. They aren't cute anymore."

Before Carmilla can offer a response, she stomps away, face set in a frown. She heads for the bathroom, eager to strip off her sticky clothes and cleanse herself. She feels dirty. Not because of the sex, not exactly, but because she can't seem to stop lying to herself. But the alternative is even more terrifying. If she doesn't keep lying, she'll have to come to terms with the fact that she fell in love with a person that didn't even exist and had her heart broken by a monster. With everything else going on and the University about to fall apart (again), it isn't something she's ready to deal with.

That was the last time, she tells herself as she peels off her clothes and staggers into the shower. I really need to stop doing this.

But she already knows she isn't strong enough to resist. Her only consolation is the fact that Carmilla isn't, either.