Rated M for sex/ violence/ rape/ language/ adult themes

And it rated M for a reason, adult themes, sex, violence, any of that bothers you turn back NOW

This is a WHAT IF story and is not to be taken out of context. Has NO bearing on it's original story Brothers of Thunder. This is not only smut for girls who would enjoy it but is a psychological experiment. If this doesn't float your boat, you have been warned, turn back. For everyone else, enjoy!

Secret #1: Ecstasy and Hate

James left the motel swiftly, hitching rides to one of his safe houses, one that no one knew about, not that any of them were known, it would have been careless of him to divulge that sort of information. He found solace in the fact that there were no stairs to the door. It was one of his many homes. This particular one was on the outskirts of Dallas and the papers were under the name of Raphael Musgrave, one of his many aliases.

He'd not bothered to be driven all the way to his home, hoping not to leave too many bodies in his wake, he had to be careful not to lead anyone here, where he'd remain hidden for a short while. He'd wait patiently for the warehouse incident to calm down, wait for the Agency to start questioning his whereabouts since it would be obvious to them who killed yet another of their Agents.

James unlocked the door to his safe house and made his way silently to the bathroom to wash up, best not leave blood around his house and he needed to fix his wounds, he wouldn't dare bother with a hospital. Too many people, too many questions and destroying an entire hospital was far too much publicity; he really didn't need that hassle.

He glanced at his reflection in the mirror; damn if he didn't look good even after getting in a fight and blowing up a building. He didn't stand to admire himself however, ready to change out of these dirty, blood clotted rags that had once been one of his expensive suits. He dropped them to the floor and climbed into the shower, careful not to make it too hot, every single one of his wounds were burning already with sweat, debris and sex. He smiled lightly at the memory of it as he lightly cleaned his many gashes, some from the fight, some from the fire and some from that woman. She had been fun. Too bad he'd had to kill her. He gave a curt nod before letting it drop away from his mind completely, the moment was over, time to get back to work, back to his plans.

The Agency was definitely out now. Their designs were selfish and stupid, they were going about their business like fools. He'd hoped to correct it. It was a shame to let a perfectly good idea go to waste. Their resources were squandered, they needed someone who could direct the company in a more appropriate manner, the Boss had been losing his touch for years, gotten greedy and in James' honest opinion, it was time for the man to step down or rather, to die. He'd become no better than the others, worthless, useless to the betterment of the world.

It was James's goal, betterment; betterment through destruction of the elements that prevented it. Certainly many saw him as evil, he wasn't what others expected him to be, why should he be? Why should he change? He's the only one who knew what had to rightly be done, he had others beneath him that did as they were ordered, no questions, moving toward the goal of bettering the strength of all man kind. He had to destroy weaknesses. The Agency did have some of this in mind of course, there were some projects they were working on in supposed secret, but once more it had been improperly executed, James needed to take over. The Agency needed a better leader, the people needed him, even if they thought otherwise.

James rinsed himself, letting the warm water sting the many open wounds that he would quickly set to fixing. He field dressed himself when the need arose and he was quite thankful that the occasions were rare. He'd always been careful to not get himself wounded. He had no time to just wait around and heal, there were things that needed to be done. One of which was to start cleaning out the Agency. It was a good engine, a grand vehicle for transforming the world, for bettering it, but it had been poorly neglected, improperly taken care of. He would be the proper oil for it.

Another thing on his mind, though he could scarcely explain why, was to find that Kate woman. Yes, he'd kept his promises of letting her leave there alive, he'd even kept his promises that no one would be left to defend her, but now he would seek her out. He was curious. He could admit that. It was rare anything intrigued him and she had certainly done that. She was weak still, yes, but toward the end of their conversation she'd changed, he'd awoken something. She still spouted ridiculous notions that she 'believed' in John, that he was 'better'. But did she truly believe it? She was scared for John, she knew James would kill him. She had doubts about John, and James was curious to see her reaction to the news.

James exited the shower, carefully padding the gashes in his torso and arms, gently stroking the burns, oddly there were few. Perhaps a bomb in his vicinity had been a dud and that was the reason he'd not been as affected. He shrugged this off, returning to his thoughts. Not only did he have to find the girl, he had another obstacle, Paul. The bastard would get in his way. They had similar motives, but alternate designs, James simply would not work with that man.

2 ½ months later, 2 AM, All Saints Day November the first.

James had loathed to admit how much time he'd needed to recover, he wasn't the type to lay around all day on the couch, nursing wounds and burns and watching the History Channel. He'd forced himself, while still in much pain, to go seeking out his agents and learning more of what had transpired. He'd spent a few days working and a few days resting, he needed to get back to business.

Tonight, however, he was on a separate mission, he'd finally learned the location of miss Kate Williams. While Paul may have assumed that no one knew where to find her, he didn't know one thing, one of his 'insiders' was actually James's.

He was here now, at her house, the final guest for her Halloween bash, presumably Paul, had finally left and the house was empty outside of Kate. He checked the perimeter of the house, careful to not be spotted, though he was certain most were asleep. Satisfied that he could slip in undetected, he glanced up to a light in one of the upstairs bedrooms. He nodded. She'd be changing, too tired and busy to notice much of anything else.

He slipped in her back door, it had not yet been locked, the light above her dining room table still burning. The place still smelled strongly of cake and candle, a trashcan near the fridge threatening to overflow with trash from the night's activities. He briefly wondered why there had been cake for her Halloween party, but didn't bother to linger on it, it was unimportant. He wanted to finish what he'd started. He'd let her go, but now he'd kill her. He didn't know why he liked the idea of setting his steal against her forehead, perhaps he was wondering if he could extract some other amazing comment from her. Another comment to contradict what he'd thought of her. Was she as weak as she let on, or was there more to her like her comment and the look in her eyes had suggested?

He found his way past the kitchen to the stairs where a black cat slept in a fuzzy ball, blocking his path. It looked up at him lazily when he approached, he patted it's head, having no ill feeling towards the cat, nature's intelligent little misanthropists. The cat mewed at him sleepily and let him pass. He resisted the urge to smile at this. Cats were such poor guard animals.

He climbed the stairs quietly, stepping carefully so as not to rouse a squeaky stair. When he reached the landing he noticed lamplight streaming through a bedroom door. He stopped a moment to pull out his gun and cock it, ready to shoot. He was not worried about any misfires, he had absolute control of his weapons and he wasn't hesitant.

James walked silently up to her door glimpsing in to see Kate slipping on a pure white silk nightgown that went to her ankles. He allowed himself a moment to admire the sight. Purity. He could see why his brother had been so drawn to her; purity in human form. She was weak, and naïve, but perhaps that's the way it was with the truly pure. Too bad for her. She'd been connected to his brother, she knew of him, she was connected still to Paul, she had to be disposed of. Otherwise he'd have left her alone. He had nothing personal against her, this was business. He stopped, reminding himself there was also curiosity involved, but it would come to the same end; she'd die.

He waited until her back was to him, as she went to work putting some laundry into their respective places in the dresser. Everything was carefully folded and pressed, lined neatly in their drawers. As he made his way ever closer to her, he thought it unfortunate, yet again, that he had to kill the girl. She had some good qualities. She had a way of doing things that were similar to his. She was neat, careful, her tastes were simple and elegant, she kept her home tidy.

James was right behind her now, he stopped, leveled the gun at the back of her head and pushed it gently to her scalp. She froze immediately at the feel of his gun at the back of her head, her shoulders tensed and then lowered, setting her hands lightly on the dresser in front of her. James smiled sardonically, she'd known it was him.

"I told you there would be no one left to protect you after that night, didn't I?" He asked gently. She tensed slightly, her nails gripping the gaping dresser drawer, but she did not answer him. "You are ready to die I see, ready to join my brother? Then I will make it quick, you've earned that much."

Before he could pull the trigger however she'd turned to face him, John's gun in her hand, cocked and aimed right back in his face. "I will not die yet." She said calmly.

His eyes widened momentarily in amazement of her stoicism. She wasn't going to cry, she wasn't going to scream for help, she wasn't going to just let him kill her. He realized she must have stowed that gun in the drawer she was standing in front of. Had she heard him coming? He admitted himself amazed. She more than owned her life now, she was willing to fight for it, but he wondered if she was even willing to kill another to keep it.

James smiled at her mockingly, "Do you have it in you, Kate?"

She blinked, "I'd rather you turn and leave, I want nothing more to do with you, just go and I will pretend as if I never saw you, but I'll kill you if I have to."

"Stupid girl…" he cooed, "When someone has their gun trained on you, you must kill to defend yourself."

She fired. His eyes were wide, if he hadn't cocked his head to the side at her that bullet would have hit him. She hadn't even hesitated, her eyes were narrowed angrily at him. She was disappointed that he'd moved, that he'd not died. She'd agreed with him and followed his instructions, he'd given her this motivation.

"You killed John…you took him from me…" She said angrily, holding back her urge to cry.

James admitted himself deeply impressed. He advanced on her, knocking the gun out of her hand; knowing that she was now prepared to fight for her life, he wasn't going to go easy on her. He rested the gun between her eyes, ready to end her life, but her arm moved swiftly, knocking his gun away, making it fly towards her bathroom before she kicked him backwards.

'Oh, well.' He admitted, he'd kill her with his hands. As soon as he went to grab her however she blocked, she punched, she kicked and slapped him away with each attempt he'd made to snatch her. Now James was truly amazed. John had trained her, but she hesitated less than he did. Each attempt he made to grab her, she got angrier; the ferocity and hatred in her eyes intensifying. She retaliated, punching him, slapping him away, desperate to cause him harm, make him hurt. He then punched her. He'd been right. It had knocked her to the floor instead of making her stagger like Keela had.

He thought back to that night with the woman at the motel. Their fight, their struggle, a kiss, backhands and then sex. His eyes were focused on Kate now, knocking her to the floor, his hands at her throat, as if to strangle her, but no, he was turned on, once more, by the violence, by the fire and hatred in her eyes as she, even now, tried to reach for her dropped gun so she could kill him. She wanted to kill him. She hated him so damn much that she desired to kill him. He didn't quite understand why it turned him on.

His grip tightened at her throat, strangling her a bit. Most women would attempt to claw at the hands around their throat, but no, Kate's hands reached up and began to tear at his jacket, his shirt, trying to get to at his own throat. Excitement raced through his veins, impressed and delighted that she was even willing to kill with her hands. His eyes latched onto her blazing blue green ones. Damned if she wasn't beautiful when she was angry. Besides his first meeting her, this is the look she always gave him, would always give him.

'Why not?' He wondered. She'd been John's woman, he'd killed John, it was only proper that she belonged to him now. She was his property to do with as he pleased, and he certainly felt the pull now. That look, this violence between them, why not put it toward a better use? He wanted to. Yes, he'd take her. He'd take her right there on the floor and wherever else he pleased. He loosened his grip around her neck and backhanded her, wondering if it had the same effect on Kate as it had on that Keela woman.

Kate gasped and groaned, her back arched in response. That same chill ran up his spine. It seemed even more exciting this time than it had with Keela. He'd been expecting, or rather hoping, that Kate would respond with a backhand, but no that sort of thing wasn't for her and she wasn't even thinking about sex, she wanted to kill him; she responded to his backhand by reaching up to claw at his face, her neat French-tipped nails drawing blood from his cheeks, her delicate little fingers finding his neck, doing their best to circle his neck. She'd wanted to choke him, but her hands were small, only going halfway. This little setback did little to deter her, however; she gritted her teeth, narrowed her eyes fiercely and squeezed his throat with every ounce of strength she had, which was to say, a lot more than James had thought. She wasn't strong enough to overpower him, but it was making it harder for him to breath. Damned if he wasn't even more turned on by this. Yes. He had to have her. She was his property now, after all, it was only right.

He tore her hands from his throat, taking both her wrists in one hand and forcing both her arms above her head. She groaned in aggravation which only managed to make him smile. Once he had her pinned he pressed his lips to hers, forcing her mouth open with his tongue. He wanted to taste her fury, devour it, devour her.

James's tongue explored her mouth as she tried to squirm out from under him. God how he loved it. God. He LOVED. The struggle, the fight, the hatred. It turned him on. This was certainly a side of him he'd been unaware of. He guessed he should thank that Keela woman, dead though she was; he'd thank her for awakening this side of him. He could enjoy something in this world.

Kate squirmed beneath him. Her mind racing, confused . The moment he'd set the gun at her head she knew what she'd had to do. She'd known the moment she learned of John's death, somehow she knew, though she'd hoped otherwise, that James had lived. Had she not believed in John enough? Not loved him enough? But here James was, alive and on top of her. She tried to think straight, but his tongue ravaging her mouth confused her so much and frightened her that she found it hard to think. She hated herself for feeling partially aroused by him, but that was natural, wasn't it? That damned physiological urge that came when all the right buttons were pushed, no matter how much the person pressing those buttons was hated.

When Kate finally found her senses, she bit down as hard as she could on his tongue. She'd been left no other option, but it had the desired effect. James pulled from her mouth, glaring down at her, but he was pleased.

"Get off me." She demanded.

James scoffed. He would do no such thing. The angel was furious, and that made her all the more desirable. That girl that had never fought him off, that had never shouted; the girl that was scared and accepting of death was now fighting. She was fighting despite the fact that he had her completely powerless; trapped beneath him and completely at his mercy, she still wanted to fight, unwilling to give up and just take it. It was beautiful; he'd been completely wrong about her.

He leaned ever closer to her, running his fingers over her cheek and into her hair as she continued to squirm beneath him. He bit at her lip and then grinned at her, ready to answer that question burning in her eyes. Why?

"Do you remember how I said I'd make you scream if you did that again?" He asked, his breath washing over her. He watched, satisfied, as her eyes widened in realization of his intentions, her body ceasing its movement as she stared up into his fathomless eyes, full of dread. He knew she wouldn't respond, scared as she was, knowing what was about to happen. He leaned ever closer to her, touching his lips to hers briefly before staring deep into her eyes, grinning and whispering softly, "Get ready to scream."

Immediately after his gentle whisper she began kicking again, desperate to free herself, unwilling to let him take her, to let him touch and ravage her. Kate struggled beneath his weight, wanting to cry, but no she couldn't, she wouldn't, she didn't have time for that, she needed to escape from him. She cringed as he began kissing and biting her neck, running his hand up under her silky nightgown. She shook her head and kicked and squirmed. She needed to somehow free her arms. She couldn't let him touch her like this. She couldn't let him kiss and bite her. Above all, she did not want him inside her; she loathed the thought of her lover's murderer 'making love' to her. No. She reminded herself. James would not 'make love' to her. He'd rape her, he'd take her for his own needs and probably kill her afterwards.

James let her squirm, it was a wonderful feeling. He wanted to watch and feel her response to everything he did to her. His eyes always flicking back up into hers, wondering 'what if?' every moment he touched her. He could see her twitching every time his fingers touched her thigh. After flicking his fingers teasingly nearer to her panties, he couldn't take it any more, he had to see her body. It would be pristine, he had no doubt about that. It would be perfectly smooth and clean and unblemished, fitting with her pure image. He ran his fingers up the side of the nightgown, wondering the quality of the material. He truly hated ruining good clothes. No it was cheaper, even if she'd been left John's money, she didn't seem the type to spend frivolously on herself. She wasn't selfish.

The next minute, he tore the nightgown from her, ripping it clean down the middle, unsurprised by her light scream, that she'd let escape from her pretty pink lips. It was a beautiful sound that she'd made, driving him to kiss her again fervently. He'd heard many people scream: out of fear, out of anger, out of surprise; none of it had ever excited him or pleased him, it was just a sound humans made during these situations. Kate's scream however, it had another sound to it, a different tone. It was only half a scream, the other half a gasp. Was she trying to hide the fact that she was getting excited herself? It was only natural after all, for her to respond to his touches. He knew the erogenous zones, and no one could fight what was so naturally pleasing, so it was only natural for her to react to him.

His tongue ravaged her mouth once more, stroking her tongue with his, she wasn't fighting it as much, finding it hard to fight what felt so good. He broke his kiss, looking down at her, seeing a mixture of hatred and desire in her eyes. It was remarkable the change, how a simple thing like a kiss could render one so defenseless. He then pulled back a moment, careful to keep hold of her wrists, he wanted to gaze at her pristine body. Far better than he'd assumed. She was flushed and almost pink with desire, her breasts were medium in size and ivory white, her pink nipples hardened from the sudden flash of cold air and sudden arousal. Her pale blue satin panties were all that covered her now. She was almost too perfect to behold. He debated on marking her but perhaps that bruise forming on her temple was enough. He did like things to be perfect and pristine, it would be a shame to mark that body with anything other than bruises from kissing or bite marks, perhaps some nail marks later on for her back, he concluded. Yes, that would be good enough, marks that would make her his; marks that would be proof of his ownership.

James's eyes darted back up to her beautifully hardened nipples, he'd start there. He swooped down on her again, causing her to pause in her kicking out of surprise and then gasping suddenly with unwanted delights as he sucked on her left nipple and then bit down hard. Another half-scream escaped her lips. God it was beautiful. His fingers loosened on her a moment and her hands swung free, her hands then climbing to his shoulders, her nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, trying to tear at him as he bit her nipple again. The second nip pulled only an excited gasp that time. She'd forgotten to scream, forgotten that she was supposed to hate him for a moment; her knees digging into his sides as she arched her back. God, it was so wonderful he could hardly stand it. His right hand moved up her side and here he let his nails scrap at her side. She half-screamed again, in shock, but her arched back showed her pleasure.

Kate was becoming dizzy. She didn't understand why she was excited, didn't understand why each of his rough acts caused such an eruption inside her. Why was her body aching for more? Her body was warmed, there was an uncomfortably pleasant feeling in her stomach and in between her legs as he rubbed against her. She was becoming blind with these sensations and it was becoming harder for her to resist, harder to fight him off. She wanted to fight him off and kill him, but her mind was growing fuzzy and her body was aching for more. She couldn't understand it. Why did she want more? She hated it, she hated him and she let him know, now pulling herself with his sleeves and the grabbing at his throat again, finally finding her sanity, glad to have her arms free.

James grinned at her attempt again, glad at her fury. Despite it all, she would keep fighting, it was admirable; James could admit that much. Lesser women would had given up, given in to what was to come, but she didn't. She may have paused occasionally, because he'd touched one of her many sensitive areas, but that was normal, fighting off the desire was difficult and she was doing better than most. Kate wasn't a lesser woman, like he'd once assumed, she wasn't as weak as he'd thought, she was strong.

James pulled her arms easily from his neck, lowing her roughly to the floor, her hands in each of his. He lowered himself over her, grinning lightly in triumph. He searched her face curiously as a thought came to mind. He could feel the pressure in his pants, he didn't want to just play around, but then a curious thought came to him.

He looked her dead in the eyes as she continued to glare furiously up at him. "Did John ever fuck you?" He asked gently. Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn't answer; she merely closed her mouth and bit the inside of her lip.

His eyes widened in slight shock. John had even hesitated in this act, he'd hesitated even though he'd loved this girl. James then grinned and shook his head slowly. He'd won this as well. "He always was an idiot."

Kate squirmed once more beneath him. Hating that he'd insulted John. Hating that she couldn't answer him, because it was embarrassing. After all they'd been through, John had never touched her like this, he'd never done anything more than kiss her. She now wished it had been John here with her, John who touched her and kissed her. Perhaps he had been an idiot. She then mentally chastised herself. How could she agree with James? This horrible man that was taking her forcibly? She then wondered about this. She'd thought rapes were quick, but no, James was taking his time, playing with her, testing her, lowering her defenses and willingness to fight, wanting to turn her anger and hatred into passion and desire. She had to admit that he knew what he was doing; she'd caught herself pausing and hesitating, reveling, without warning, in his touches.

She glared up at him again, refusing to cry and hating herself for admiring his ability and hating him for doing all of this to her. "Haven't you done enough?" She asked angrily. "You ruined my life…you took John from me and now this…" She spat.

He merely stared down at her. He didn't have to explain his motives to her, but if she so badly wanted to know, he'd tell her, get the talking out of the way, talking during sex wasn't something he wanted.

"You were John's woman, I killed him, now you are mine…you belong to me and I will do what I like." He answered calmly.

She squirmed underneath him, desiring to slap him and then reach for her gun and shoot him. She stopped again, knowing she couldn't pull free, but continued to glower up at him. "I don't belong to you."

"Say what you like, kitten, but you are mine and I will do what I please with you." He said grinning, he had to confess that playing with her was fun.

"I hate you." Kate hissed, "You cannot have me, I won't let you…" She pulled one arm free and stretched it towards her fallen gun, John's blessed Beretta, and finally grabbed hold of it, thrusting it towards James again, and managed to shoot his shoulder before he pulled the gun from her quivering hand. She froze angrily as he began running the barrel of the gun between her breasts, leaning ever closer to her, unbothered by the wound and by the fact that he'd ruined yet another of his expensive suits.

He leaned closer to her, covering her body with his, running the barrel of the gun still along the lining of her panties, making her shiver. "Yes, that's right….hate me…" He kissed her. "Loathe me…" He cooed, trailing kisses down her neck, "Defy me…" He whispered, pausing to bite her and suck heavily at her throat, making sure he would leave a good mark, before he pulled his lips from her flesh, he felt her quiver beneath him. Despite her best efforts, she enjoyed it; enjoyed what he was doing to her. When he pulled his lips from her she tried squirming again, but it was no use. She was draining herself of strength, her body was aching for him.

Her one free hand, reached up, gripping his injured shoulder. She wanted to pull herself up, make some effort to fight him, but as he rubbed the nozzle of the gun across her panties and over her slit, she stiffened, moaned. She was about ready. James hadn't wanted to move too fast, he didn't just want to get off on her, he wanted her to get off on him. While she may indeed be traumatized by this act alone, she'd never forget that she'd enjoyed it, enjoyed him. It was a process of making her his. A process that would ensure that she'd still fight him, still hate him, but would undeniably desire his every touch.

Kate couldn't believe it, her strength was leaving her, she just couldn't fight this much longer, her body was aching, she wanted release; while her mind was still shouting for him to stop, begging that he didn't finish this horrible act, her body was begging otherwise, she was wanting him , needing him. She gripped his jacket, wanting to tear it off of him. Desiring for him to undress and rip the remainder of her clothes off. James, noticing her tugging motion on his sleeve, threw the gun across the room and began peeling away his jacket and then his shirt, releasing her other hand, letting her hands trail him.

At first he wondered if she had completely given in to this act, but he could still see the hatred in her eyes and she was making sure to remind him by piercing his skin with her nails, scratching at him. He knew she was loathe to be with him, but she needed release, needed this newly awakened desire to be fulfilled and so needed him.

Kate raked her nails across his chest, across those recently healed wounds that were etched across his torso, eager to hurt him, to mark him, to kill him. If only her desire for him wasn't so great. Her breath shuttered as his strong hands trailed down her stomach, raking his nails threateningly across her abdomen before grabbing the cloth of her panties and ripping them from her; She lay exposed before him now, but she was so far gone now, desiring his touches so much, that it didn't matter anymore, in fact she found that she wanted him to look at her and then do something about it. She wanted James, she wanted him, in his words, to 'fuck her', like John never had. She found herself both angry and sad at the thought of John. She found herself furious that he'd never bothered to touch her like this. She gasped and groaned as James slipped a finger inside her. God she was hating John for this. If he hadn't been so hesitant, so stupid, he would have done something about their attraction. If he hadn't been so hesitant, then maybe he'd have lived, maybe he'd have been the one doing this to her, instead of his brother.

Kate clawed at James's arms as he thrust his fingers inside of her repeatedly, making her desire for him grow unwillingly. She couldn't deny how good it felt, even the pain of some of it. She was surprised at herself, she hadn't known she could enjoy this, the pain that he inflicted on her, the roughness of it and the fact that she hated him, that was amazing. She could hate and desire him. Her once love's brother, his killer. She both craved and hated this man towering above her, his fingers buried in her most sensitive of places. It was strange that she wanted him to continue to torment her with these touches, that she wanted for him to do so much more. God, she hated him so deeply, it almost felt like love.

She moaned again as she sunk her nails into his arms, widening herself in offering to him, arching her back and raking her nails to his knuckles and then back up his arms, trying to let him know how much more she needed, pleading for him to hurry and get on with it; she needed release and yet the torment was too good. She didn't understand what was wrong with her.

James smiled at her response. He couldn't have asked for a better response. She hated him and yet she was clawing at him, asking quietly for him to hurry, to get inside her. He would not have given into her desire so easily, but he was hardly able to contain himself anymore and when she sat up slipping her fingers to the hem of his pants. He knew it was time. His fingers joined hers in a desperate struggle to free himself from the confines of his slacks, as he didn't ever bother with underwear. Her lips found his, kissing him desperately, telling him to hurry. He slipped free and forced her to the floor. This earned him a slap, he was glad to see her fight hadn't diminished entirely.

He proceeded to tackle her to the floor, feeling her both fight him and pull him nearer, yanking his hair and scraping at his back in need, he returned the favors, pulling her hair taut and then clawing at her back as he thrust his way inside her perfect, pristine and furious body, claiming a beautiful scream from her that he soon captured with his lips, bruising hers as he pummeled into her.

Their struggle lasted hours, unable to contain their hate and their attraction for each other. They'd moved from the floor to the wall to the bed. It was near five in the morning before Kate gazed hatefully, longingly, into his dark brown eyes, those normally fathomless eyes now filled with heat as he rocked inside her. She couldn't help but be caught by the thought of how attractive he really was and how she enjoyed having him inside her, even though she hated him, but her body needed this, she wanted this right now; she wondered if perhaps it was all she really needed right now, to have a man inside her. Not just any man, of course, she doubted a stranger would have produced this heat that existed between her and James; perhaps Paul, yes, she wouldn't have minded that either, perhaps that would be far better, because she liked Paul and knew him to be good, but where was he now? He'd sworn she was safe here and yet he'd been unaware of James's survival, unaware that James knew where to find her and had come to take her and violate her. Paul had let her down, just as much as John had.

She moaned again as James whispered harshly at her to 'defy him', in which she'd responded by raking her nails down his back. "…I…hate…you…." She whispered and then finally as he brought her to that final climax, "Agh! James…"

He captured her final scream, claiming it as they both released, claiming her in her final heated kiss and shutter. He gazed into her eyes a moment, seeing her hate still, but she was exhausted, he'd pulled every ounce of energy from her and soon her eyes fluttered closed. "I…hate you…"was her final whisper as she dropped off to sleep.

James smiled at this, "Good." He whispered back, she was his now. His to torment, his to ravage, his whenever he wanted. She'd fight him still, she'd hate him, she'd hate him even more for having awakened that desire, but he wanted that, the moment she ever whispered love at him, he'd kill her. But, for now, he'd keep her, he didn't need to be wasting his time with women who wouldn't fulfill his true desires, they would not excite him and he couldn't waste time doing this to teach them. Kate was the perfect candidate, she would always hate him, always respond in ways that excited him, no matter what he did.

He lay on top of her a moment longer, admiring the marks he'd left on her and those she'd left on him, including the new bullet wound in his shoulder. He then crawled out of bed, dressed, retrieved his gun and paused at her bedroom doorway, looking back on her. She was just what he needed, but he wouldn't admit that, not to anyone, no one would learn of this; he was almost certain, that she wouldn't even tell Paul what had transpired, too embarrassed to admit what had happened and too angry at him for not protecting her. Their secret was safe for now. He glanced at her, no, John's gun on the floor. Why not? Their struggle had been fun, the woman needed the gun to defend herself, and she would, even against him, though there she would always lose. He retrieved the gun and set it on her nightstand before he left, reflecting on the fantastic night and ready to head home for some sleep. Never again would he fall asleep next to another.