Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own any of these characters. They belong to Tamora Pierce and I'd never dream of stealing them…other than to write faintly kinky fanfiction about them…

Conscience

The room was shrouded in darkness, the only light radiating from a single candle, placed on a desk. It was obviously a small room, with the furniture carefully arranged to make it look bigger, that's what made it so obvious. It was sparsely furnished, perhaps that was another trick to make the room look large: a chest of drawers, a desk and chair, a comfortable armchair near the fire, and, most important of all, a bed. The light illuminated two people, wrapped round each other like a glove on a hand. In the dim glow, an onlooker would probably only just be able to make out hair colour. One definitely had pale blond hair and the other was a brunette. Anyone watching would think that they stared ardently at each other, but it's funny how deceptive light can be.

The man ran a hand up her side and slid it very slowly over her shoulder, towards her neck and face. Her hand shot again and captured his. Smiling slightly, she raised an eyebrow questioningly, was he eager to play again? She was glad she wasn't the only one, but she'd be damned if he found out yet, she smirked, 'No, I'll have him begging for it first.'

 They knew it made no sense, that this frenzied lust wasn't right- but they couldn't stop. He hated her, it was as simple as that. He hated her with a passion which burned so intensely he sometimes feared there would be nothing left, it drove him to the brink of insanity and as his hands played across her skin, he almost tumbled head first into lunacy.

She despised him, loathed him, wanted nothing more than to watch him suffer and yet she couldn't keep her hands off him, perhaps in some twisted way, she was watching him suffer, but she hadn't meant to come along for the ride. She was unsure what pushed her to this, perhaps it was instinct, a pure animal instinct, which told her to devour him whole and have no regrets.

You know, you've got a willing slave

During the day, she allowed her mind to rule, it told her to stop doing this, to rid herself of this twisted pleasure but when the night arrived again, her usurper body would take control and all logic was smothered under her desire.

His hands danced across her stomach, sending thrills up her spine, each ripple of desire seared her soul, driving her mad. She bit her lip to keep from groaning, he couldn't have the satisfaction of seeing her pleasure. He glanced up at her sharp intake of breath and saw how rumpled she was, her lips swollen, her eyes so darkened with lust that he couldn't recognise them. He showered her face with hot kisses which she returned fervently.

And you just love to play the thought, that you might misbehave…

She pressed herself close to him, he surrounded her, he intoxicated her mind 'til coherent thought was a myth, she drowned in his very essence and there was nobody to pull her out. She was drunk on his clean, sweet scent, it disgusted her. How could somebody who was so foul a person be so physically perfect? The fiery hatred that smouldered in her mind snapped and broke loose. It was conveyed in her actions, and, taking both her hands, she slammed him into the mattress, one leg on either side of his body. She lent down and licked a drop of sweat off his nose, gently working her way down, kissing his cheeks, jaw and neck. He reacted strongly and it became violent, intense, passionate. She loved every minute of it.

There was no love involved but somehow self control was nonexistent. It was sex. That was all. There was no law saying loving someone was essential when sleeping with them. It's funny how two people who hate each other can find no better match.

And it's funny that something as simple as a single candle burning defiantly in a dark room can be strangely symbolic.

AN: This is the rewritten version of Conscience, most of the chapters are being completely redone and will be up in the next few weeks. If people would like the old version, please feel free to email me and I'll send it to you. The lyrics sadly don't belong to me, but to Joss Whedon, creator of BtVS. Heh, this version has turned out kinda kinky, but I like it.

Thanks to Sara (punkpixie87) for unofficially beta-ing this for me.

Your thoughts, feelings, flames and constructive criticism are welcomed.

Until next time!

Adrienne