The Obsessive: Part One of The Kiss Thief

part one. A Fight to End All Fights

The first kiss Persephone stole was from her husband. He came to tell her that he would not be joining her for lunch. He had told her this four days in a row. That, and the knowledge that there had been a beautiful brunette in the foyer that morning, fed Persephone's discontent. The fight had begun then, a raging torrent of words. She doused her husband with the frustration she had accumulated and realised that this argument meant her marriage really was failing. Once, she would have trusted him, and once, he would have been hurt if she did not. When he stepped closer, anger in his voice, hands gesturing, it became apparent that there was no undercurrent of desire between them, only anger.

It was then that Persephone reached out and brought their mouths together. She kept her hands on his face only to keep him still. This was a kiss he had not wanted her to take. This kiss she stole, so he could never give it to the brown-haired woman. She took everything he had. She drained him. As soon as she released him, he had turned and was walking out the door.

She did not care.

part two. A Total and Resounding Failure

And so it began.

The next kiss had come from an associate of her husband's. Persephone watched him all through lunch. He was a smooth talker, confident, arrogant, the sort of man who could kiss any woman and have them wanting him. To steal a kiss from this man would be good. Better than good.

She found him in a hallway as he was leaving. She pressed her lips to his, and for a moment he was all stillness and surrender and she thought it would be too easy. She thought she could overpower him.

Then he turned the tables; the plundered became the plunderer. Overcome by her beauty and his own desire, he pressed Persephone into the wall, hands roaming over her body. Aware she was fast losing her ability to steal this kiss, she battled for control, trying to regain her advantage. He took her control and gave nothing back. She felt nothing for the kiss; so apathetic that she did not bother to push him away.

nce he had gone, she remained leaning against the wall. She had failed and the kiss had not been stolen. It had been a mistake. She had not reckoned on lust. But it had been a mistake she would not dwell on. There will be another, she told herself.

part three. An Act of Thievery

The restaurant, her husband; another lunch. She watched as her husband's eyes flicked over the black-clad woman, and decided that she also would give Trinity her gaze. Outwardly, the woman radiated tension, but it was too thin to obscure that there was something far more interesting underneath. It took only one look at the man to tell he was the same. She waited and watched. Now she knew it was there, it was so obvious. Love. They were covered in it; they breathed it. It was tangible even thought they were physically separated. Persephone wanted it.

She looked at her husband. His attention was currently held by yet another beautiful woman. It tired her, the actions of her husband; woman after woman, when he had said, so long ago, that he wanted only her. A plan took shape in her mind. Soon, so soon, he would see.

She remembered the last time. A disaster. That could not happen again.

She approached the three of them; Morpheus, Trinity, Neo. She laid it out clearly. They could have the betrayal of her husband if she could have a sample of their love. Morpheus remained silent. She observed Trinity's icy anger with detachment. In the end, the want to save the world would prevail, as it always did, and Persephone would have what she wanted.

She did not want a reminder that Neo loved Trinity. She wanted to taste love and remember what it felt like.

And then, the moment of action. Persephone took from Neo the kiss meant for Trinity, and for a moment, she understood what it would feel like to be the other woman and feel such a love. A kiss given to Trinity, that Trinity would never have. It was exquisite. The perfect theft.

He could rant and rave all he liked in the aftermath, but she knew it was more than worth it. The betrayal of her husband meant nothing to her in the face of what she had taken.

part four. Another Day, Another Kiss, Another Theft

And so it continued.

Persephone amassed her stolen kisses. It was beautiful, knowing that what she was tasting was another's love and not for her. Never for her.
She never tried to stop herself. She took all there was and then some. If she wanted, or needed, she would thieve a kiss. Then she would remember a time when the Merovingian had been a man who loved her.

It was like the first breath of air after being submerged. She consumed love, she devoured it, and felt it pour bittersweet down her throat until she was saturated in it. And then there was that moment, where there was only her and what she felt. How she loved it.

There would always be more, she knew. She would always want more.