A/N: This is inspired by Bright's Eyes (brilliant) song of the same title, and the last few lines ("Do you like to hurt?" "I do, I do" "Then hurt me"...etc) are lyrics that belong to Mr. Conor Oberst. Anyways, I hope you all like, and please feedback, it really means a lot to me. Thanks.

Lover I Don't Have to Love.

His whisper's hot but his breath is frigid cold as it licks the shell of your ear and its all you can hear over the whine grind shriek of the speakers and drunken fury and monotone laughter and puking crayolas on the floor the walls the eyes of every drugged up, painted-on, wish-you-were beauty queen and personified star.

"Let's get outta here."

It may be the most cliché line in one-night-stand history but in the foggy fluid moment its perfection so you follow him up Dixie-cup ridden stairs and graffitied-granny wallpaper. It's romantic in your head.

"Let's slip into something a little more comfortable."

It may be the other most cliché line in one-night-stand history but fuck its effective. He's got you pinned to the headboard. He turned the lights off the minute you entered the room.

"So. Beautiful."

But he can't even see you. A stutter of syllables resembling gratitude, its hard for words to escape your trembling lips but they manage.

"I'm Justin."

Justin. His eyes could have been black, and they glittered like ebony and marble in the shadowed starlit closet-room. His skin glowed pearly perfection, a white canvas rippling with underdeveloped muscle. His face was half sheathed in shadow but you knew he was gorgeous, you knew he was gonna fuck you right. Fuck, he asked for a condom before he asked you your name.

"Turn over."

You knew the minute he iron-gripped your bottle-cap wrist, he'd be like this. You listened. Crescent moons sprinkled the heart of your hips, he was hot hot like lava and sweet like coffee and hard like muscled diamond and it actually hurt this time. The party raged on. The thunder roared at the sky and rain beat the windows and Justin thrust inside you. His teeth scraped along the white column of your neck and he still hadn't let go of your wrists. You knew he'd be like this.

"Fuck fuck fuck, I'm – oh fuck – I'm –"

Marked and used and thrown away, just how you like ("Could you move, please?"). He leaves and stained bed sheets are lost in your fists and left cheek as you shudder into the bed, you lose yourself while Justin tugs his pants back up to his hips.

"Bye, kid."

You've got messed-up sex hair that kisses your shoulder like a caramel river when you tilt your head. Your eyes used to be amber but lost the way amongst tears and drugs and hurt that doesn't hurt. You gotta a real pretty face and bite-mark ridden lips and wine-red dips along your throat. Your body's too frail, they tell you ("but I like it").

"My name's Noah."

Your voice is lost in the onslaught of rain and thunder. You kneel against the door but the prickles at your neck got you feeling that someone's on the other side.

"Do you like to hurt?"

Another nameless boy, another Stop in the road, another broken glass on tiled carpet.

"I do, I do."

"Then hurt me."

fin.