WARNING: Mindless smut and intense make-out scene below. (A Danny Phantom fanfic)

Glow-in-the-Dark Lipstick

She was wearing glow-in-the-dark lipstick, and that was why he loved her. Her lips would curl in the dark and he would watch as her Cheshire smile floated in front of him. Emitting from between the spectral crescents would come the closest thing to a giggle that she would ever make. And his eyes and hands, hungry to reveal in the dark her invisible self would pass over the unseen diamond pattern of her tights, up the edges of her (he knew only from memory in the pitch black) checkered skirt and then- oh so flittingly, knowing his limits of control- over her tight shirt to then cup her face and twist it this way and that, imagining the features around the mouth that floated, laughing at him and his actions.

The darkly lined eyes, enhancing their bright purple. Sparkling, jeeringly slit and facing him. A sarcastic and endearing and falsely lazy expression glowing from them to him. Her cute- however many times she would deny the accusation- nose, small and turned up just slightly at the tip, giving her an ever youthful ere. Then her hair, thick but silky, black as a raven, but betraying it's gothic appearance with the hinting smell of cherry blossoms, the lingerings of her favorite shampoo.

"You trying to suffocate yourself?" She would joke as he buried himself in her now mussed locks, recommitting the smell to memory. "I'm sorry my presence is so un-enjoyable for you"

He'd growl then a little in frustration. "Oh yes, you can tell I just hate having you here, can't you?" and his voice would be right against her neck and then his mouth, pressing harshly against it. That would shut her up. He could feel her pulse quicken under his lips, spurring him on. He'd continue his feverish kisses, roughly- but not painfully- pulling down his fists knotted in her hair, forcing her head back, neck exposed, and then she'd make a noise only he ever heard. That's usually when he'd lose it and muss that insane lipstick that captivated him so much.

The only thing visible in the dark, he couldn't very well miss, and Sam couldn't very well, wouldn't want to very well, get away.

"Danny, you're messing up my lipstick." Breathless words, empty of all concern for the makeup, only there to egg him on.

"Whoop-dee-doo." muttered between breaths for air as he took free rain on her lips. He wasn't really in control, and he knew it. He liked it- the simple manipulation he let her have over him. She knew the words to entice him, to frustrate him just enough, to make him laugh for a span so she could then take control, hiking herself up onto his lap to gain her control. That sassy half-smile, dampened only by the hidden warmth in her eyes, would play across her features again as she took fistfuls of his hair, oddly similar to hers in color, but thinner in texture and less shiny.

She loved to torture him, test his limits before firmly laying down hers. Hovering her lips over his, parted and so close he could feel the heat off them, but not touching. She would breathe out a long, warm, sweet mint sent onto his face. Then he would break and lurch forward. Their lips would press for an instant, but just an instant, more torture then satisfying as she'd pull back and click her tongue in chastisement. He'd play good boy for a bit and wine and allow his head to be pulled back into position as she'd repeat the action, but they'd both lose out eventually. He'd lurch forward a little too quick, and she'd pull back a little to slow. His hands would whip out and grip her shoulders tightly, using his pure physical strength over her to keep her pressed to him, and her feeble struggling would die. She'd fall limp in his hands. Her mouth would break his and let out an un-ushered and bit-back moan, a noise that would stop Danny dead. His eyes would glaze over, then shut. His head would bow into her chest and hide his face as he held her as close and as tightly as his mortal strength allowed him to. And in the minutes the action spanned, more emotion was communicated then simple worlds like "I love you" ever could.

The moment would fade, as always. Slowly, sweetly, in its own way. And his grip would slowly lose its strength, more from fatigue then anything else. His face would pull away from her, his eyes, as green as hers are violet, would open, his expression speaking revelation.

This sweet moment would be ruined, of course, by an eventual playful, sarcastic comment by her. And he'd say her name, again and again, trying to make her stop, get her attention, and not smile. Eventually he'd tug at her ear, poke her nose, or pinch something on her to get her took down at him with a chuckling "What?"

He'd just smile at her. She wouldn't be done yet.

Laughing, she'd place a cool finger against his lips. "You've stolen some of my lipstick." His now similarly glowing mouth would keep there poised smile as her jeering one bit it's lip, examining the glowing marks covering her shoulders, speckling over some special places on her arms, smeared like a thick choker around her neck, and even a few reaching down dangerous levels below her collarbones.

"Well, would you look at me."

"Sam."

"I'm a mess!"

"Sam."

"I feel like a Jack-o-lantern."

"Sam."

"What already?" she'd laugh, smiling at him, playful, invisible eyes sparkling, knowing his impending answer.

"Shut up, Sam."

And then maybe he'd seal her shimmering lips with a kiss. Maybe.

This mindless smut has been provided by Shinjite Florana