I Need To Hatefuck My Nemesis

We're both writers at the top of our field. Attractive and intelligent, with acerbic wit. We're both always up for the same jobs, projects, and awards. But we're more than competitors-- we are nemeses.

Years ago when we met, I was kind, he was flirty. I was flirty too. Then he threw me under a bus for a huge job while blatantly ripping off my work. I vowed to ruin him.

Now when we see each other, we want to rip each other's eyes out, and clothes off. We're snide and cutting, and walking a tight rope of sexual tension. With each spiteful jab, we watch to see which one of us will fall first and admit we want to fuck the other's brains out. We're both too prideful, and also get off on being humorously awful to one another.

I'm never going to be the first to fall. But I dream of the day he subtlety gives in, as if he doesn't know it's happening. Perhaps during one of the conferences we both attend, maybe at the hotel bar. He grabs my shoulders in frustration, and I clench the buttons of his shirt. He'd bring me in close and say something rude but sensual. I would spit back venom, but creep closer.

And then we would hatefuck the shit out of each other in my suite, where I would kick him out immediately after and relish in my victory.