A/N: Yeah, this has been knocking about on my laptop for a while. It's short... Just have it already!

Because fanfiction needs more Dristophe and damn they're a fun (if rather dysfunctional) couple to write, with swearing... it is Christophe folks.

Disclaimer: What's that? I still don't own South Park? Dammit.

There is no way, no way that it will be me. I will never submit. He on the other hand will.

I'm not really sure he agrees.

I glare at Damien with unmoving determination. I can feel the fury rising inside me; the obsessive dominant side taking over. Damien glares back, his red eyes piercing into my soul, attempting to make me go weak, gasp and quiver in a delicious bliss that will leave me powerless to fight. I've felt that bliss before, it's tempting, but if I let it happen then I know I'm screwed, literally. I'm prepared for his little trick, well practised in resisting, well-trained by him to resist. For that trick was often used by other demons for very different reasons.

"Zat won't work. You made it so zat won't work." I prod his bare chest, pushing him back slightly. The first steps in getting the upper hand, which I will have.

Damien smirks, not saying anything, just allowing a slow move towards the wall. I continue glaring at him suspiciously. What's his game? The look he gives me back is heart-melting. He is heart-melting, so appetizing, so incredible, so one hundred percent mine at last.

Fuck you. I'm not being a pussy, these are the facts.

I continue moving Damien towards the wall, stroking up and down the magnificent chest, feeling more confident that he's going to let me have my way. That spark in his eye suggests he's up to something though.

"What are you trying to do?" I ask. It was time this was out in the open. We'd had an explosive day, ending in a fire fuelled kiss, and two rather rough declarations of love. Now, with my shirt burnt off, and his shirt ripped off, I can't control my lust any longer. I've been waiting for this for so long.

Damien raises an eyebrow. "Well, I'm clearly trying to make you admit defeat, and get you on your back."

"Zat is never going to 'appen, beetch." I don't bottom. I have never bottomed and will never bottom. Do I in any way seem like a submissive person? No. Besides, Damien certainly has a weird way of trying to get me to admit defeat. He isn't fighting at all...

"I am not being the bitch, Christophe." Swiftly he clamps his heel down, shoving me back, but keeping me close by holding onto my collar. I have to steady myself, and stop myself faltering as I lock into his indescribable eyes. I actually can't describe them and the way they make me feel. It's stupid, I hate it.

Okay, I love it, but I'm never going to fucking admit it.

I growl, annoyed that I've been thrown back, how did I not see that coming? I can't let something as simple as love blind me. "Well zis eesn't 'appening if you're not on ze bottom." I really need this to happen too, the amount of hot chills he gives me is ridiculous. I draw Damien's face close to mine and whisper gruffly, "I don't bottom."

He licks his lips. "You will." His tone is mocking, confident, like he could not possibly lose. The burning in his eyes would have floored me if I weren't so worked up. Those blazing eyes... beyond words, like endless light wrapped in a red shield of darkness. Not even Shakespeare could capture the immortal depths they held.

In some mad fit of passion, I slam my lips into Damien's, revelling in the ecstatic hot feel of them, the responsive softness they hold. It's like kissing fire but without the scalding blisters, all you get is the burning thrill, you forget until that point how fucking hungry you are for it, and suddenly you're gasping for air as he draws you closer, releasing his grip on your collar and instead moving to wrap his broad arms around your back. Everything goes blurry, all you see are flames, you gasp again and...

...

Shit.

I must have blacked out for a minute because next thing I know, I'm on the ground, head spinning, with him very firmly on top of me, chuckling lightly as he caresses my chest. "Oh dear, silly Mole, you didn't damage your head did you?"

Merde.

I blush violently at the thought of fainting just because of a kiss. That makes me sound so weak, one fucking kiss and I'm on my back. I try to push him away. It's not happening. "Sheet, get off me, faggot," I snarl.

"I don't think so," he growls in a sultry tone. Something below the belt is responding to that voice, getting itself very excited. Does it not want us to win this? Is it happy to play the bitch? "Oh, I intend to fuck you, and there isn't anything you can do."

I try to not let these words get to me, but I can't help it. He's sending me crazy, my heart feels like it's about to explode and my dick is getting very impatient.

He kisses up my chest, grazing his teeth against the skin, varying the pressure and sending an exquisite tingling through my body and down to that member that just doesn't seem to care how it gets attention anymore, as long as it gets some. Damien continues his trail of sizzling kisses up to my neck, the sensitive area. Every kiss feels a hundred times stronger there, deliciously more dangerous when the teeth get introduced, and so satisfying.

I gasp into his mouth as he attaches his lips to mine. I won't let myself pathetically black out again this time. I take a moment to enjoy the elation running through my body, kissing him back viciously, feeling a hardness against my thigh to suggest he's enjoying this too.

But of course.

His breath becomes shorter. His fingers run down my sides and fidget with my belt buckle to undo it. He roughly pulls it off and makes to undone my trouser button, plunging a hand under my waist band and eliciting an uncontrollable groan from my lips.

No, I can't let that happen. If he gets to that then I'm screwed.

My overwhelming competitiveness to win takes over my brain, and with all the strength in my body I can muster, I push him hard, rolling him to the side. It's a desperate scrabble. I grip his shoulders tightly as he scratches at my chest. But I have a better position, more power behind my movements, and with a bang, he's on the ground and I'm on top.

"Ha, take zat, beetch." Was that a little immature? Vindictive maybe? It's not like he doesn't deserve it though.

"This doesn't change anything," he states, as his looming hands pressing on my shoulders threaten to overpower me again.

I do all I can do to keep my place. I bite down on his lower lip, hard, sucking at the burning blood. He seems to melt beneath me, as he lets out a deep groan and his muscles go limp. It's a beautiful moment, to feel in control of pleasing him. I straddle him, firmly locking him in place. He just stares at me with a mixture of pleasure and annoyance on his face. I will make that all pleasure; it's time to have some fun.

"Zat's a good leetle beetch," I purr, running my hands up his chest, his gorgeous hot, perfectly smooth chest. I've never heard of warm marble, but that's exactly what it is, perfect heated marble, tres bien. It's mesmerizing to look at, those beautiful abs just the right amount of definition, without being bulky. Hardly any demons are sexy like this; I really got lucky getting this one. Well I wouldn't have wanted one if it wasn't this one, and I have a way of getting what I want.

I'm getting it right now.

I tangle my hands into his thick hair, pulling up so his head is slightly off the ground. I bring my face close to his so our breath is mingling, until I can't focus on him properly, I can almost feel his heart beating furiously through my own chest. "Now, are you going to be good?"

"You know I'll never be good," he says slowly, running his hands down my back and under my waistband, squeezing my ass. I try not to groan at the way it makes me feel, it's strangely enjoyable, like in a mystifying moment I almost want his hands to go further. His words cut through this thought: "Just let me at it then."

I lock eyes with Damien to see him grinning devilishly. That bitch read my mind. I hate it when he does that. He knows he shouldn't do it.

"I can't help it when your thoughts are so loud!" He pauses and gives me that look again. "Now we both know you'll enjoy it, just let me do it."

"No, no way, not 'appening." I make my point by grabbing his wrists in my hands and shoving them back behind his head. He grunts, he scowls, and I smirk. "Zere, zat's better."

"That is not better."

"I'll make you change your mind," I growl into his mouth, as I attach mine again. There is too much kissing and not enough fucking going on here. The problem is that he's still fighting back, as soon as I move from having him locked between my legs, he'll just pounce on me. So I continue with the battle, but this time our tongues are the one's doing it.

Content in the knowledge that his tongue is bending to mine's will, I take a moment to bite down on his bottom lip again, rather sadistic, but I love to see the blood pour out of it.

"I love it too, Tophe," he pants, "it's just heavenly."

I freeze. What did he just say? 'It's just heavenly.' He just made a reference to heaven? Connotations to that asshole God at a time like this. Why the hell would he? What the-

I gasp in shock as with full force he clutches my arms and pushes me back. My head hits the ground, hard, again.

Fuck.

I don't believe it, that sneaky bitch. I try to struggle free, but it's useless. I'm on the ground. He's straddled on top. I can't move. A groan escapes my lips at the unexpected delight this causes me.

He grins. "Pinned you." He leans forward, trailing his mouth up my jaw, and whispering in my ear. "You're just too easy sometimes." He bites down delightfully on my ear. "Glad you had your moment of fun though."

I frown up at him, but looking into those deep red eyes, there's really only one reaction left I can have.

"You beetch," I mutter, not really thinking it, and he knows I don't, but I've come too far to admit my enjoyment out loud.

Fuck it, I give up. I'll win next time...

(Another groan as he moves to pull my trousers down and my body shakes in anticipation.)

...or maybe the time after.

Damien chuckles, the bastard knows he's won.