A/N: Okay, so this one is totally going under the 'crack pairing' and 'friends with benefits' categories. Why the fuck did I write something like this, you should ask my stupid brain for that.

Fyi; Violate has doomed for eternity, so we might as well say goodbye to that used to be perfect couple and say hello to CRACK.

… … …

Cheerful chirps of the birds woke her out of her deep, long slumber that certainly felt like she had slept half of the century off without giving a damn fuck. Her dark blonde hair, with beautiful shades of brown and slightly stained with crimson from the wine she had drank the night before, tangled messily around her head and all over her pale porcelain face. Several of her neatly polished nails were broken, and there were dark purple bruises on her arms, neck, and possibly her entire body.

The windows of her bedroom were wide open, god-forbid, and the cold chilling air of December's Christmas morning crept onto her skin, making her nipples hard and her body to shiver at the contact. It made her wonder how could she, someone who's already dead, felt such things?

Instinctively, Violet snuggled closer to the figure beside her and pressed her body to his; the warmth of his skin felt nice against her stiff cold ones, making her back arched and craving for more contact. The figure shifted slightly, draping his long slender arm around her waist and pulled her flushed against him. It felt nice though, so she didn't complain.

Her lips found its way to his exposed throat, planting open-mouthed kisses and left wet trails above his dead pulses. There's a slight movement of his chin head tilted down and a soft kiss on the top of her head before Violet crawled on top of the figure's body; her legs planted firmly on each side of his body, her hands on either side of his head, and her crotch pressed urgently against his erection.

Both of his eyes snapped open (finally, finally, she thought) in surprise, but he didn't make any attempt on removing her from his lap. His eyes were dark, she observed. Darker than her father's pitch black ink, darker than the color of her mother's stove, and darker than her former lover's eyes. A bit similar, yes, but this guy's eyes were much better than her ex's for countless of different reasons, like, for example, how they showed pure and unadulterated joy and pleasure, and how they didn't hide anything but revealed everything there was about him.

Violet slapped her hips against his, pressing herself against his erection urgently and bit back a loud moan of pleasure that threatened to come out as the tip of his cock slid into her wet folds. She heard a stifled groan from him and almost grinned when his hands grabbed both of her thighs, forcing her to move. She didn't.

"Are you going to sit there all day, or are you going to finish this faster, Violet darling?" Chad asked beneath her, his voice was dripping with sarcasm, and his lips quirked into a forced smile that clearly stated how annoyed he was at her gesture. She would never tell him this, but she loved—and no, not that kind of love she used to have for her former psychotic lover Tate, it's more complicated than that—him for this. It both amused and turned her on even more at the same time.

She shifted her hips and slammed down onto him hard; his length buried so deep that she thought he might pierce her apart. Her shameless moan was mixed with his loud groan of pleasure, and Violet paused, letting her center adjusted to his erection. Just when she was about to move, Chad wrapped his arm around her waist and sat up; their hips rolled rhythmically and her head fell back at the feeling. It was simply overwhelming and mind-blowing.

"If you're this good in bed—"she heard him speak as he bent her over; her head touched the sheet of the bed while he was still holding her back. "Makes one wonder why did your man run off to your mother does it not?" there's a smirk in his voice, she could hear it. Fuck.

"Shut up." Violet snapped and crashed his lips down to hers hungrily, effectively shutting him off. She pressed her breasts flat against his chest, and the rhythms started again, not so quietly this time. They've never been quite last night either, so she didn't really see the problem.

"We should've never took your father's champagne," Chad murmured to her hair between groans and pants. "Now people will mark me as pedophile."

She laughed, gripping his shoulders tighter, and slammed down to him harder and rougher than before.

"It's Christmas, Chad, and who cares?" she finished with a throaty moan, and Chad laughed along. His voice was deep and crispy, different from Tate's sweet and beautiful one, but she didn't mind.

The house granted their wishes, she recalled. Last night, she wished for a friend; someone other than her mother, someone that could make her feels better. The house granted her wish properly this time, maybe because it's Christmas and it was being nice to her, she wasn't sure.

Either way, this was the best thing that ever happened to her since she broke up with Tate. And really, as they quickly became undone hard at the same time, she realized she didn't really mind.