Well I do recall promising some kind of smutty makeup chapter for being such a slacker, so here you are, a very twisted makeup-chapter.

Very twisted, don't even ask what the hell was going on with my head when I wrote this O.o Definitly an M-rating.

Mikan is nineteen

He doesn't know why he can't be gentle with her.

For some reason when he sleeps with her he can't be soft or gentle or loving, not like Ruka or Tsubasa or any of those others would be. He always squeezes too hard, pushes too far, keeps his hands around her pulse and for just a second longer than he should.

Once or twice he's slapped her, right before he shoves her too hard (always too hard) against the nearest vertical surface and starts pulling at her clothes.

For some reason Mikan lets him do it, lets him hurt her. And he doesn't know why.

They are on the sofa in his room, and with her bare legs wrapped tightly around his waist he forces himself in and out of her, fingertips brining up dark wells on her arms where he grips too tight and her hips bucking against his to accommodate his brutality.

He's already driven one orgasm out of her (the sofa cushion covers will definitely need cleaning) and it feels like she's about to have another judging by the way the muscles inside her are clamping down around him. He groans and the hand that had been roughly tenderising a soft breast moves up and reaches the top of her shoulder.

Marks litter the skin around her neck and once more Natsume rubs his hand heavily across the delicate stalk and thinks about crushing it under his fist. He wants to be the only person to have her, he wants everything of hers, her feelings, her loyalty, her trust… even her death.

"When I die…" he mutters darkly in her ear as he speeds up his thrusts and nears the point of his own climax, "I'd want… you… to die with me." Too immersed in herself to respond with anything other than a breathy moan, Mikan shows no intelligent reactions as his hand opens and begins to close around her throat.

Very quickly her inner walls clench like a fist and a mottled scream passes out of Mikan's closing airway, driving Natsume so far out of his mind he can't think, let alone control how strongly he curls his hand around her.

She begins to cough and he just uses his spare hand to push down her shoulder and hold her in place, and everything around him spins as with ragged gasps and irregular jolts he releases inside of her.

A moment or so before his last dregs are done with he removes the pressure of a cramping hand from her neck, and hears her gasping and panting as if she had never taken a breath before.

They stay together for a few seconds longer, and then he pulls out with a low groan and sits back on the sofa, observing her from a greater distance.

Some of the new bruises have already started showing up on her traditionally unflawed skin, and she holds her neck weakly while breathing as if it were an experience to be treasured.

"Why." He suddenly demands, familiar rushes of guilt shooting through his system as he stares at the rings of finger-shaped bruises around her body. But even though he can't stand himself for doing it, he can't stop, and she won't stop him. She just won't.

"Bec-" she begins but is startled by the hoarseness of her own voice, and stops to cough until she sounds more intelligible. More guilt racks his system, but at the same time it is accompanied by a sick form of pleasure, something driven on the high of having that ultimate power over her, being simultaneously the controller of her pleasure, pain and even life.

"Because I love you," she whispers throatily, "Natsume."

And he hates himself a bit more every time he does it. But he can't stop. Even though he knows, he just knows, that one day he's going to lose her forever.

But then, he also knows without any need for a question that if she died, he would die with her.

Whoa, darkfic is dark O.o

Inspiration for this came from Ren and Nana from Nana, and the brother and sister from 'Walking on Glass' by Ian Banks. Hope you… enjoyed?