A/N: This was really depressing. Why did I do this? Also, this is my first attempt at smut. And my first attempt at RPF as well, actually. Sorry if it's terrible...

DISCLAIMER: So like this didn't really happen. Or maybe it did, you never know...

You're about to go to bed when the doorbell rings. You grumble incoherently as you amble to the door.

Your best friend is on the other side. She has an anxious, nervy look on her face that you've seen too many times.

Thus it comes as no surprise as she all but launches herself at you, capturing your lips in a needy kiss. She kicks the door closed as her hands entangle themselves in your hair. Your eyes lock as she breaks the kiss so as you both can breathe. They're full of guilt, lust, hate – for herself not for you, never for you – and another emotion that, though familiar, you are unable to identify. She stares at you, breath coming in pants, for what seems like the longest time.

Suddenly you remember the reason for your apprehension at her appearance and open your mouth to speak, but she cuts you off before you have the chance to utter a single syllable.

You find yourself being shoved against a wall as her tongue enters your mouth. All thoughts of protesting completely leave your mind until she moves her assault to your jaw. As rational thought returns to you, you remember how these encounters always end and your resolution not to participate any longer.

She can't give me what I need. You chant in your mind in an attempt to strengthen your resolve. It's true. You need more from her than this. You need more than she can give and she knows. You haven't told her. But you know she knows. You see it in her eyes. The guilt. Even outside the stolen trysts you can see it. It's always there. On set, at events, always. You're surprised no one else seems to have noticed, but then maybe it's just for her. It was almost poetic, really.

You think that maybe she made the same resolution you did. It's been months since you were last in this situation. The longest wait had previously been four weeks, two days and eight hours. Yes, she kept count. Yes, she was in deep enough to do that. It's hardly shocking.

"Heather." Your voice is ragged and your breathing erratic as you almost plead with her to understand that you just can't.

"Please..." She removes her mouth from your neck to lock her desperate eyes with your own. "Naya... Please... I need this. I need you."

Your will crumbles as her voice cracks on the last word. You close your eyes and nod once. With no words she drops to her knees, pulling your plaid pyjama shorts with her. You hear her breath catch as she sees your lack of underwear. You lean your head back against the wall.

She puts one hand on your hip and the other on the wall to help support you both. The hand on your hip rubs down your leg almost soothingly. Whether it's supposed to be soothing you or her, you're not sure.

She nuzzles her face between your legs, eliciting a sharp intake of breath. She drags her hot tongue flat along your slit, making a low purring sound.

Your hips jut forward as she thrusts her tongue into you. You don't even try to repress the loud moan that escapes your open mouth as she relentlessly thrusts into your centre.

The hand rubbing your leg moves it's way up between your legs to work on your clit.

Soon enough you come undone with a series of expert flicks, licks and nips.

When you're finished, you slide down the wall to sit in front her. You see it all in her eyes again, the guilt, the lust, the self-hatred and the other so familiar emotion you wonder if you'll ever let yourself name, and – again – you know what's coming.

You pull her into you, and hold her tight as she breaks. For the umpteenth time.

"I'm sorry." Is her choked chant as she sobs brokenly into your neck.

"I know." You tell her sadly.

The truth is you can't give her up. No matter how many times you end up with her sobbing into your shoulder. No matter how unable she is to accept herself.

Fate has laid a hand, after all.