A/N: Mood music - 'Closer' by Nine Inch Nails. And yes, if you already know the song, that means that this is a very sexually dark drabble. Mmhmmm.

K – Killing

I can feel you.

You're there, deep inside of me, moving, teasing, hurting. You like seeing me squirm.

But you know what? I hate it. I hate it all.

I hate the way you make me feel; dirty, used, pitiful, hungry for more. It's like you want me to scream your name because you need to know that I'm breaking, that I love you, that I want to kill you, that I'm slowly moving closer to the edge.

As for the edge of what, I don't know yet. You want it to be the edge of my climax, you hope that I get a rise out of this, but I don't. I think it's the edge of sanity. I think, sooner rather than later, I'm going to go crazy.

I can feel you, even now.

You're here, above me, panting, sweating, moaning. You like to dig deep.

But you know what? It's damaging me. I'm bleeding.

I hate the way you make me react; arching, gripping, grunting, wanting to slit your throat. It's like you're asking me to be your play thing, and yet I'm selfish, and I'm tired of it, and I'm about to vomit when I see your face.

You're this sick demon to me, sadistic and a twisted romantic and manipulative, oh-so manipulative. You trick me into craving your touch, as much as it hurts me. You trick me into obeying your commands, as much as I wish to do the opposite.

I can fight you.

You're stronger than me, but I'm faster. You're taller than me, but I have better reflexes. If I wanted to, I could stop this. I could end it all, and force you away. I could, I could.

But I don't.

Time and time again I let you violate me, grind me down, and release your own pent-up tension. And somewhere in the process, a small part of me enjoys the ride.

I think it's because of how desperate you are.

You're a pathetic, greedy creature. I know this, and because of my kind heart, I don't turn you away. I used to desire only your attention, and now that I get it, I find that it isn't so grand. And yet I still put up with it. I still linger where you leave me because I know you'll be back.

Why is that? Why am I allowing myself to be abused?

I think it's because I know you wouldn't do this to anyone else.

I know that you're an awful creature, and yet I know I am the sole person on this planet who completes you. I'm all you ever think about, all you ever care to indulge in. I'm your every fantasy, your every source of torment and pleasure. You couldn't live without me.

But I could live without you.

I could live without the violent actions you call love-making. I could live without your kisses, which always leave my lips and neck bruised. I could murder you one night after yet another disgusting deed. I could, I could.

But I don't.

And I think it's because I don't have it in me. My hands shake, and my breath hitches, and my heart pounds, and my body aches. I need you. I don't want you when you hurt me, but I still need you to hold me afterwards.

How contorted is that logic?

But it's the truth.

Somehow, we got into this vile relationship, and now we can't come out of it. We're stuck in this repulsive merry-go-round of unadulterated love and miserable rape and sweet comfort and unkind torture.

I hate to love you, love to hate you, and you feel the same.

Why must fate be so cruel, as to be killing us slowly this way?