Disclaimer: I don't own Mai HiME.

Chapter 1: Shiver

A lone lump protruded form the mattress, huddled close to the edge and covered only by a thin sheet, the comforter thrown askew at the foot of the bed. The only other one that could be there was gone. Where? Somewhere supposedly far; much too far.

Click.

Or perhaps not.

"I'm home."

Came the voice coated with that distinct accent—so infuriatingly charming. It deserved no response.

Ruffling and rustling filled her ears, a minute, maybe two, ticking by. She remained ever still, even when slightly elevated from the addition of weight. Soon—far too soon—a limb snaked over her waist, part sliding under cloth to entice a sharp intake of breath, followed by a shuddering exhale.

"Your fingers are cold."

The mumbling was the only protest, if even that.

Fingers danced along the contours of her abdomen, an icy trail left in their wake as her muscles reacted with quivers and trembles. Shivers raced up and down her spine, the hot breath trickling over her neck so vast of a contradiction.

An urge to arch into the touch prodded at her, yet she restrained it, desperately wanting to snuff it out. She couldn't give in, she couldn't. Such things were hopeless, all that she learned really only lies; she believed in nothing.

But, then why did she feel so utterly unsatisfied?

The fingers never ventured too high or too low, still chilled fingertips now gliding in tight circles around her navel. She wasn't sure if she should take kindly to this act of cowardice.

"Stop torturing me."

The words had slipped off her tongue, her mouth apparently deciding for her as fear pooled in the pit of her stomach.

Lips brushed against the patch of skin near her ear.

"Natsuki is ever the hypocrite."

The cutting statement was delivered with a teasing air, but it did nothing to dull the impact, for she knew. She knew the mask never reflected the truth.

She felt compelled to do something, but very rarely did she ever play the role of the initiator. She never knew when things should happen, how they should happen. She had yet to learn to trust her heart. Again, hopeless; everything was.

But, to her, that word—hope—and its derivatives had lost all meaning.

She turned around, taking an obscure sense of satisfaction in the hint of shock in those burgundy irises. For only a second, she stared, soon pressing a kiss to parted lips as hands slipped too high, too low. Something so utterly carnal—adrenaline, almost—surged through her veins.

Fuck you, love.

--.--

A/N: Okay, this was supposed to be a one-shot, but the response I received from Naolin prompted me to continue. The next part will be out at some point. Even though it is technically done, there is something iffy about it to me. Gah.

Thanks to Naolin for beta-ing! –insert smilie here–

Explanation on POV of story: Every "she" and "her" will refer to Natsuki...or something of Natsuki's (ex. the "hers" in chapter 11 will refer to Shizuru). If you're horribly confused, please don't be afraid to tell me. To enjoy, one has to understand. –cough– Why does that sound so cheesy?