Well...I don't know, if any of you remember the two stories I wrote in summer: "Poisoned" and "Drugged" - several people asked, if there would be another one and in a way, I agreed with all of them. It took a while, but now it is here.
This story is a present for Posh - hugs her co-queen
Disclaimer: Yeah...sure I own them. Actually, Joseph is lying in my bed calling for me - what am I doing here?
Warnings: The usual suspects: sexual material, songfics - andb the odd things you get when throwing Clarisse&Joseph together with Alice Cooper and stir a bit of sex into it.

Oh and if you can't stand the idea of OPS - do the Rockford-turn NOW! The others - enjoy

"Addicted"

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

It had been some time – days actually – during which they had not seen each other. His choice, her choice – neither knew. The fact remained. They had not seen each other and it was good the way it was.

In his mind at least, it was the best solution for their current dilemma. He could not face her, could not see the look in her eyes.

The morning after, how he had wanted, tried even to run from it. It had been no use. He could not disappear somewhere in the hope never to see her again. He had duties to perform and one of them was to stand at her beck and call. There was simply no way to avoid her.

But how that had hurt. How it had hurt to see all his fears become reality.

Gods, what it had cost her to get through that day. Never had she wanted to leave her bed. To leave the warmth and safety hiding under the sheets had provided, the addictive scent of him on the fabric, on her very skin.

It had taken everything out of her to present at least some semblance of control that morning, not to run and throw herself into his arms. Not to press her lips to his, not to sweep his mouth possessively with her tongue.

The scandal would have been unthinkable – never lived down. But his eyes had been worse. So cold, so distant, his whole expression had been like a knife stabbing into her heart and twisting, twisting…

It had been good that they had this time away from each other – she returning to Genovia to attend her country, he staying in California to protect Amelia. It was good, the only solution to think and pick up the pieces of her shattered heart.

But today – today their carefully constructed house of cards would have to prove if it could hold out.

Today, he would be returning to Genovia, to his duties and, and – she caught her breath at the thought, just the way he did – to her.

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

She felt anticipation tingle through her body. It started behind her ear, when she brushed a non-existent stray strand of hair behind it. From there it went over her shoulders, ran down her breasts, making her nipples tighten, then down her arms into the tips of her fingers. How she craved to touch him again. How much she needed to feel his skin against hers.

How insane it was to feel like this…

All he wanted to do was to rush inside the vast palace, brush everybody aside that stood in his way. He'd find his way to her unerringly, he knew. His need to see her, to smell her, to touch her was unbearable. In his mind's eye he could see every square centimetre of her skin, could feel it, taste it.

Even the mere thought of the soft, pale skin crushed against his tanned one made his groin tighten.

He felt like a man stranded in the desert, envisioning the Fata Morgana that would save him from dying of thirst. That was how much he wanted her, how he craved her.

And yet, heaven help him, he could not face her. Not now, not today, not ever.

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

It was insane, he knew that much. He could not avoid her forever. He had to report to her actually, announcing that he had fulfilled his orders and was now ready to take his regular place.

But he feared this meeting. Feared meeting her. Feared that he could not contain himself. If he saw her and she smiled at him, only the merest hint of a smile and he'd be lost. He would rush over and pull her into his arms, never to let go again. He wanted to cradle her in his embrace again and feel her heartbeat against his chest.

So much tenderness and fire, all thrown into one woman and he wanted, needed to have it again.

But what would the people say when they saw that their queen had not only abandoned her mourning clothes, but mourning altogether? What would the people say that she had chosen him to love? Did she love him at all? Or had it been just a fling, born out of the relief and excitement of that night?

This was insane. She knew she had to stop this. There was so much work to be done, now that Amelia was here, she had to have this out of the way, but those thoughts, those feelings.

She was losing her mind over this; there was no doubt about it, but where to turn, where to hide from her tingling skin, the thoughts in her mind, the fantasies?

His arms were the safest haven she had ever found and how she wanted to hide herself in his embrace. His strong arms would cradle her, shelter her, protect her – even in the raging inferno of her own desires. How he would hold her to sooth her frayed nerves, how he would keep her safe against the wildness she never knew she possessed, how it would hold out, even when he lost himself.

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

Paperwork was not helping, even though she diligently tried to go through with what was required of her. She had been no use in any meeting today, had not heard half the words that were spoken to her. Too occupied was her mind, too taken by the thought that he'd be here tonight. Never before had she realized that most of the parliament members and visiting dignitaries wore black suits and in her current state of mind this caused quite a problem.

Every flash of black was a reminder of him. Every black flash caused her stomach to do a flipflop. Every black flash made her lips tingle – and remember how his mouth had felt on hers, had felt on her skin, on her most secret parts.

His lips had brought her so many never known feelings – the whispered words in her ear, the tenderness during their first kiss, the feathery delight, when he gently traced her spine after she had bonelessly collapsed – stunned by the fact that this could happen to her.

Oh, if only he came soon. She didn't know how much longer she could stand not to see him, not to hear him, not to feel him.

Despite the darkness the night had brought in his mind it was not dark enough. He wished for complete blackness to hide his torn soul. If it were completely dark, maybe then he could cover the picture in his mind as well. The picture of her perfect mouth; smiling at him, calling to him to press his lips against her, to feel the soft and supple flesh that begged to be kissed.

He knew how it felt; it was burned into his memory forever. Even in his dreams he could feel the soft touch of her mouth during their first, terrified kiss. The pressure of her mouth against his, when she had lost all inhibitions and simply asked, begged, demanded, haunted him every second of his life.

And at this time of the day, there was actually no reason to postpone the inevitable anymore.

I want to taste you but your lips
Are venomous poison

The doors were looming overly large before him and, in a way, he felt the guards standing by them were wearing a gloating grins. He felt the ornate walls closing in on him. What was he doing here? Was he out of his ever-loving mind? Behind those doors lay madness. He was playing with fire, a dangerous one at that. This was not a genteel warming fire, crackling merrily in the hearth. This was all-encompassing, all-consuming, hot, wild and not to be tamed.

One look at her and he'd be lost. One whiff of her overwhelming perfume and he'd be defenceless. One touch of her hand and his skin would start to burn with want. And then? And then?

Then he'd cross the distance with a few forceful steps and haul her into his arms. He'd take possession of her mouth with almost violent urgency, teasing and tasting, trailing his tongue over her skin. Branding her as his.

Gods, must this drug rear its addictive head now?

She was nervous the way she was standing there staring out of the window into the darkening sky. It was a matter of minutes until he would be there. She had seen him crossing through the garden into the palace. He'd be here in a few seconds and in her belly the butterflies rose to create a storm. Not a gentle, light one. This storm was going to be overpowering, leaving her weak and helpless in its wake.

What was she thinking? This was dangerous, the direct road to insanity.

What if he came in and was no bit less handsome than in her dreams? What if his voice still carried that same husky undertone that haunted her dreams? What if he still used this same cologne? What if a mere touch of his hand still set her skin afire?

And what, in heaven's name, if he still tasted as good as he sounded, felt, smelt?

She could not resist this, the second she would realize, she would start to crave more, need more, beg for more.

A queen did not beg, but oh in his arms she was so far from being the queen. All she was then was an addict in the desperate need for the next taste of her drug.

You're poison running through my
Veins

The door closed behind the man, leaving him and the woman alone in the elaborate suite. Even though a fire was crackling in the fireplace, the silence was deafening. They stared at each other for long minutes; unable to move a muscle in the sight of the enormity of the situation they found themselves in. It was the turn of the tides, they both knew this.

Sense or senses?

It was not clear, who made the first step.

It didn't matter.

The poison in their system did its work, spreading through bodies, licking through veins, flaring over skin.

His hand touched her cheek. Her mouth was on his eyes.

A leather jacket fell down to the floor.

A high heel landed unchecked in a corner.

A cardigan, a black shirt, a cream coloured skirt, black trousers, a dark red silk top…

And then a door fell heavily closed.

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

The first light of dawn blinked through the window. The curtains that had not been closed last night flapped gently in the early morning breeze. It was a peaceful picture.

The picture lied about what was taking place in the bed across the room.

The fire that had started in him hours earlier had not been quelled in the least. The storm, she had felt rising inside her body and her mind had not been calmed. Together fire and storm licked at each other, moved against each other, tasted each other; marked, screamed in the furious vortex they had created.

Again and again they rose.

Wild, mindless, powerless.

Irresistible, dangerous, poisonous.

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

Sitting at the breakfast table and listening to her granddaughter's excited chatter, did nothing to set her mind at ease. Every sip she took, every bite she took… Every time her lips touched anything, the rawness would return. She could still feel his touch on her body. His lips having branded her skin and her soul. She could see the marks on herself, could feel them burning, feel pain and exhilaration at the thought.

Closing her eyes it was so easy to hear him breath again, feel his hands roving over her body, his lips on her breasts, his tongue circling her navel before moving lower. If she touched her lips she could actually feel the pressure of his mouth on hers, the hard demand to which she had yielded unquestioningly and immediately.

Her granddaughter's question remained unheard and unanswered; she didn't not even acknowledge it.

How intensely his eyes had bored into hers as he made his wordless demand for to undress, how dark they had become when he saw that she had anticipated his coming by choosing her dessous, how black the were, when his hard, sculpted body covered hers, filled her.

How glazed over she had seen them to be in the short moment of clarity before she had joined him in a world of mindless pleasure.

A second call, this time from her assistant, remained unanswered as well. The memory of his scent on her skin, the idea of being able to smell it took her breath away…

As he made his morning rounds ensuring the safety of the royal family he had sworn to protect, his mind was rarely on the task. His second in command eyed him suspiciously several times. After all, the boss was never absentminded, unless…

In his mind's eye he could still picture her in those enticing pieces of nothing barely covering her pale skin. Black on pale skin, even the memory made him close his eyes in a vain attempt to control himself, control his mind and his treacherous body.

Oh she knew how to work the string to which she had him attached. People, who only saw her public face, would never fathom the surge of fire that black lace on her perfect body caused in him. They would never guess, what he only slowly began to realize. She had expected him to come, had expected to undress before his eyes, had chosen this lacy almost nothing for his eyes only.

His mind had stopped functioning, when he had run his hands over the lace, over the smoothness of her back. The black lace had done nothing to hide her from him. Not her body, not her rapidly tightening nipples protruding proudly through the thin material and even less the wetness, his touch had caused to leave her body.

And how it had mixed with her sweat and with his. A whole new essence created from the union of their bodies, the merging of their souls. How it had clung to her body and to his. Not even the shower he had taken after stealthily leaving her before everybody awoke could erase this essence, could erase its smell. He could still feel it, still smell it.

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

Everything about it had been orchestrated by her and he had fallen willingly into the trap she had set up for him. Of course, she had known that he would inevitably have to show up in her suite to report. Yet he had not expected to fall so easily victim to her.

But if he was honest, hadn't it been too late for such thoughts already? Had he not fallen victim to her siren's call weeks ago in her suite, after that ball? She had called him for years – from the first moment he had seen her eyes sparkle at him, he had been lost to her charms. She had him wrapped around her finger with a smile, a gentle placing of her hand on his arm, a pleading word.

She had called him since the very beginning – at first as his protégé, then as the woman he secretly loved, then as a friend and finally, as the woman he desired and who revelled in this desire, lived this desire and fulfilled his every fantasy.

From that first night in San Francisco, he had known that he could never stay away from her. He had tried. God was his witness. She had tried too. He saw that now. That was the reason why she insisted on him staying in California.

It had not worked. She was in his system from the first moment he buried himself in her willing body. Every time she called, he would answer.

Just a short glimpse she had caught of him as she stepped outside to lead Amelia into the gazebo, where her granddaughter would meet with the prime minister and his wife for an al fresco lunch to welcome her to her new home country. But this short glimpse was like the chiming of a bell in her ear.

Just a glimpse at him and his call was loud and clear. She could not avoid calling him to her suite tonight. No matter what the schedule for this evening said, he would come to her. This was what she had feared so much, while they had been separated: That she would be his puppet following his calls.

That he called to her, she had no doubt.

He had always done so. From the first moment they met, when she had suppressed that quick, hot surge of attraction sweeping through her at the sight of the handsome stranger. He called to her every time they danced, in private or at an official function, when underneath that proper public exterior their bodies had communicated. When his thumb drawing circles on her back had sent her mind reeling and her dreams of that night into overdrive.

And since that night a few weeks ago, when he had filled her so completely; when she had felt for the first time what it meant to be a sexual being, a sensual woman that drove a man to the edge and over, just as he gave her the soaring feeling she had never known. It was then she had known that she could no more be without him than stop breathing. She needed this. More and more of it every day.

There was no doubt about it: every time he would call from now on, she would heed to his summons.

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

In her mind rose a desperate wish to free herself from this web she was caught in. This drug that spread through her system was dangerous, it could pull her into an abyss she would not be able to escape. And yet…

It was lucky that her suite was at least soundproofed and that there were no microphones in her bedrooms. Otherwise the security on duty would have gotten an earful. She blushed in embarrassment at the thought of the noise they had made. Her piercing screams still sounded in her ear, his shouts of her name as well.

If anybody had listened in on them, would have been in no doubt…

Yet, she could feel her fingers clench into fists, her nails digging into the skin of her palms, just like they had had dug into his back, had scratched over his skin as he moved inside her, faster, faster and harder at her breathless, breathy demand. How he had almost howled her name as the endless shudder of paradise had rolled over them both, when they sobbed each others name.

His name being called by the young aide gave him a jolt of uneasiness. He wasn't certain, he could ever hear his name being spoken by any other than her. Good thing that she never shortened his name, like he told the others to do. The mere thought of her voice breathlessly rasping his name as she begged him for more of his touches, harder thrusts – as she begged him to end her pain and at the same time to never let it end.

He had squeezed her skin, teased her mercilessly, wanting to drive her out of her mind with want, with need, with the urgency that threatened to close in on him. And she had followed his demands, every single step.

And then in the end, when he thought, he'd lose his mind and his life if he didn't come, he heard the keening sound that tore from her throat, the piercingly drawn out second syllable of his name as she screamed her release over and over again, sending him over the edge.

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

This was insanity, he knew that much. She was out with Amelia and he had stupidly not put himself in charge of her protection. At least four hours she would be gone, only two of them were over and he was pacing his room like a caged panther.

It was madness. He should take a cold shower to calm his overheated body, then go down to the kitchens and socialize with the staff. It would be the sensible solution, getting on with his life and ignoring the want he felt for her. Despite their obvious desire for each other, this was a dead end street. With touching her he had probably committed a serious crime.

Touching her again would only prolong the foolish notion of an addiction he had to her, an addiction, he in his fevered mind believed she shared with him.

But he could no more deny it than lie down and die. Every time he closed his eyes, her face appeared in his mind. She was in his dreams at night, in his fantasies during the day, in his wishes and his prayers and now she was in his body as well. He had felt her, had smelt her, had cradled and tasted her. He had filled himself with her and now he had no way of purging the sweet poison she had filled into his body. And even less from his soul.

The evening seemed to have no end. She was not only bored out of her mind, but also sitting on hot coals. She wanted to go home and hide out in her suite, not seeing anybody, not hearing anybody. Wallowing in the lies she told herself.

Being honest with herself was something she did not dare to be. Her mind said clearly that it was out of question to want him, to need him beside her, with her this very second. He should rest after the exhausting duty he had no doubt had protecting Amelia. Not to mention the time difference, he'd have to recover from.

Still, she wished desperately to have him here with her. To be able to see him, to smell his cologne, to feel his presence – protecting and endangering at the same time.

He was the man who made her feel safe wherever she went. He was the man who made her feel proud of everything she did, because he thought it was good. He was the man who made her feel understood. But he was also the man who made her skin tingle, her lower abdomen tighten, her centre throb with want. When she looked at her hands now, she could only see them as hands that had touched his body. When she saw her legs, she could only take them as legs that had encircled his hips as he pumped his body into hers.

It was mindnumbing to realize how much he had stripped her of her control, but now that she had felt the sweet heaviness of his body covering hers, now that his seed had filled her, she could feel the poison that he had infused with every kiss and every breath, spread through her system. And she didn't know how to rid herself of this drug.

I want to kiss you but your lips
Are venomous poison

She anticipated the moment the limousine would stop at the front steps of the palace. She actually envisioned that he would stand there to greet them, despite the fact that he was off duty. He would be there. And when she'd see him, she would not heed to all the warnings going off in her head. The moment her feet would touch the ground, she would rush over to him and press her mouth to his with all the desperate urgency she felt.

His kiss would cure her from all the insecurities, the worries, the fears.

He knew when she would arrive at the palace, he could even see the limousine pull up the driveway. Yet he did not move to go down and meet her there.

As much as he wanted to, craved the sight of her, he did not go.

It was not so much that he feared her displeasure, far from it actually. It was that he did not trust himself. Earlier this evening, he had only caught a short glimpse of her in that pale green cocktail dress, but standing there and seeing her so completely beautiful as he knew she was, he could not stand for his actions.

The moment he'd see her, he'd be lost. It would take only seconds to haul her away from the limousine and into his arms. And he would be even faster to crush her mouth to his in a savage kiss that served just as much to assuage his desire for her, as it would be to claim her publicly as his.

You're poison running through my veins

As the door closed behind her, leaving her finally alone in her suite, he stepped out of the shadow in which he had hidden.

It was a matter of seconds.

They barely made it to the chaise lounge.

A black shirt flew through the air at the same time as a pale green cocktail dress.

A pair of black trousers followed much later. A pair of black silk boxers accompanied them.

Then a matching set of green silk bra and panties came to rest on the rug in front of the fireplace. The rug itself needed to be cleaned in the weeks to come.

Right next to the bedroom door an incredibly expensive Ming vase crashed into a thousand pieces. Among the shards lay a pair of pale green pumps.

Stockings and a suspender belt dangled of the corner of the bed.

You're poison, I don't wanna
Break these chains

The air filled with gasps and sighs that rose to shouts and screams until they filled the luxurious room with a symphony of passion and love.

Fire and storm met again, surer this time, more demanding, more secure in their wants and wishes. There was no awkwardness, just want and passion and in between an almost palpable tenderness.

They knew there would be no escape from the web they had caught themselves in. It was forever now. With the night in California it had all begun. If there had ever been a moment of escape, it was long gone when they had ignored the sensibility of their minds and heeded to the senses of their bodies.

That night they had filled each other with the most powerful poison that existed. Everything they would ever be was tied to the poison they had infused into each other.

The poison that was their desire for each other. It had found entrance into their souls a long time ago. Long before either would have ever acknowledged that this could be what they wanted. And yet, it was so deeply embedded into their souls that they could never live without their drug.

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. All she would ever want was tied to him giving her more of this poison, more of the possibilities of life. More of love.

She was on his mind, in his dreams and in his fantasies every single day and every single night of his life. She was his joy and his pain. In her he found all of his fears and his only shelter from his demons.

In their nights together, they found a release from the torment that tortured their bodies and their souls during the day. In those nights they found only pacification in each other's arms. In a cocoon of lust and tenderness, of passion and gentleness, of insanity and love.

Poison

She could make him. She could break him. Yet he could not turn away from her. His addiction was too strong, the drug too overwhelming. And he knew that he never wanted to be cured from this venom. His addiction to her would never end.

He could make her the strongest woman on earth – invincible almost. He could reduce her to a weeping puddle of desperation. She was addicted to him and now there was no way out. She was his. Her addiction to him would hold until her dying day.

An addiction so strong. Eternal and irrevocable.

And all they ever imagined…

One look could kill
My pain, your thrill

Yet, when morning came – even before the first staff members rose to begin their duties of the day, he would secretly leave her bed and stealthily make his way out of her suite.

When he'd enter his suite the emptiness of the room would hit him with full force. Coming from her warm and soft body cradled against his, the world seemed to be cold and bleak. He dreaded this moment every day. It was the punishment he had to take for the sin of the night.

She was the queen. He was her head of security. He had no right to claim her for more than a secret affair.

If anybody saw them…

She hated to wake up alone every morning. How she wished that only once, when she woke up, he'd be still there to greet her with a gentle kiss and a tightening of his arms around her. Yet, every morning, his half of the bed would be cold and empty. Sometimes she was not even sure that she could smell his scent lingering on the sheets as it clung to her skin.

Waking up and staring at his empty pillow was the punishment she received for the sinful pleasures they enjoyed at night.

But she was the queen and in the end, he was only an employee. She had no right to follow her heart and live their love in the open.

If anybody ever found out…

They would not understand how perfect they were, how much they were bound to each other. Nobody would understand that they had poisoned each other with an essence stronger than propriety and duty.

Nobody would understand the perfection their mutual poisoning had created.

Poison

So...what do you think about this one...let me know please. And thank you to those of you who reviewed the other two stories. You guys warmed my heart.