A/N: Dedicated to Valdemar.

Venom:

With her, everything was a fight, a constant struggle.

Even sex.

She would push against himto take the lead, to be on top, to remove his head from between her legs, and force him back up to his feet, to then, herself, kneel, and devour him hungrily.

He then would refuse to moan, groan, spit and curse in pleasure as he should have, and would grip her hair to push her against a wall, and take her at once, earning her hisses of anger, and her nails leaving trails of blood along his strong back.

They would then begin a contest of resistance, the one who lasted the longest without breaking a heated, violent, plain brutal kiss, won. Their mouths would collide against the other's agressively, with bruising passion, as their forms melted into one beneath the moonlight, once a devastating pleasure shook their bodies.

He didn't quite care if it wasn't his name the one that left her lips, or that she wished he were someone else.

It was, after all, just sex. Good one. A good stress relief and...

"I'm going to go"- she declared, rising from her spot on the bed, and grabbing her clothes quickly.

For an odd reason, he felt somehow... remorseful. And disappointed.

It was always the same. Whatever happened to women being tired after sex? Amazing, hot, violent sex...

"You don't have to, you know?"- he replied, lazily. The after-sex-glow was a bitch at times. He could have made it sound more caring and meaningful, but he barely had voice left by now. So, shit, it had came out dry and... Well, shit.

She arched an eyebrow.

"Are you asking me to stay, Milo?" – she asked, incredulous.

Yes!

"Not really. I am offering you to stay, 's all. Because..."- he paused, seeking for an excuse desperately. His gaze then darted towards the window, and his eyes met the wonderful sight of rain, the storm of the Century outside, behind the glass. Fantastic.-"There is a hell of a storm outside"- he finished.

"And?" – she looked at him inquisitively.

Milo grunted. Damned woman.

"I am a gentleman, Shaina."-

The green haired female with killed (both literally and figuratively speaking) legs bit back a smile, and shook her head.

"I brought an umbrella with me."- she said, and turned on her heels.

The Scorpious Saint cursed inwardly, and mentally kicked himself for even wanting her there. He hated himself even more when he insisted, firmly, this time.

"This house is pretty much away from your own. Are you sure?"-

This time, she couldn't help it, she laughed. Milo, himself, resisted the urge to laugh along. She was contagious, apparently, and he had never seen her laugh so good-naturedly. He wasn't going to spoil it... This time. If he could take a hold of his own tongue.

"In Athena's Holy name, Milo. Not counting me in, when was the last time you got laid?"- she asked

Again... Blasted woman. He should have Scarlet Neddle'd her to oblivion when he had the chance. When she has there, helpless with her long, long legs around his waist and pushing her hips against his', and...

Oh, fuck.

The male Saint hurried to cover his lower section with his sheets, and his hands, making the whole possition look relaxed, natural, and... Okay, maybe slightly supicious, but not that she'd notice. Of course, she wasn't stupid, but she probably wouldn't be that rude, as to mention her presense caused...certain reactions to certain parts of his anatomy.

Shaina , looked down at him as he had that debate with himself, and felt herself smirking shamelessly. She was, indeed, shy around men in general, but Milo was not, definatly, worth it.

"See something you like or you're just happy to see me?" – she asked, feinging innocense.

Now, Milo was wrong. He didn't hate her. He hated himself, and was now ready to ask Camus to freeze him to hell.