RVA: The Red Vixen at Sea, Cool Down
Oct. 5th, 2014 09:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalThe painkillers Melanie had taken were finally starting to kick in as she finished pulling the last knot tight on the ropes now binding Rolas to the mast. And at this point she wasn't too proud to admit she enjoyed hearing his grunt of discomfort as she knotted it off. Her left eye was swollen and her head was still pounding terribly from the blow that had knocked her to the deck.
Her husband's paws were crossed and bound behind the pole, as were his ankles, forcing his legs apart. Just for the hell of it she'd wrapped more around his waist and bare chest, and few turns around his neck, not tight enough to restrict breathing but enough to force his chin up. Rolas was refusing to look at her though, his eyes staring out over the deck to the sea beyond.
“Better?” she asked, sitting crosslegged in front of him. Rolas stretched and tugged, pulling at the ropes, testing for give and finding none. I may hate sailing but I do know a thing or two about tying knots.
“Not... really,” he replied, eyes darting away, refusing to meet hers still.
“Now that we've established you have Issues with you sister...” she began, ignoring his reply.
“We have established nothing of the sort,” he replied, blinking and finally meeting her gaze. “All we've figured out is that I'm as bad as her late husband, Kev.”
“Oh for pity's sake, Rolas,” Melanie said. “You are nothing of the sort. I deliberately provoked you. I seriously doubt that Kev Highglider was anywhere near as justified when he engaged in his abuse.”
“I hit you,” Rolas shot back, his voice anguished.
“Would you feel better if I hit you back?” Melanie paused, waiting for his reply. Rolas merely stared down at the deck, the ropes around his neck digging into his jaw. “Hmm?” she prompted.
“This is fine,” he replied, flexing his bound arms.
“I'll take that as a 'maybe',” she noted.
“It was not,” he countered, though he still stared at the deck, not at her.
She stood up, deliberately, emphasizing her control over him through body language as she crossed her arms and stared down at him. “You complain a lot when I lead you into our little bedroom games, but you never actually say 'no'. And you always seem satisfied in the end. It's comforting, isn't it? A controlled loss of control. No need to worry about getting angry at someone when you're bound up nice and tight.”
“See? Even you see it,” he replied. He strained against the ropes again, testing, deliberately making the white cords dig into the flesh of his fur and skin. “I'm always angry, it seems.”
“Maybe not angry. I see a male who is in a constant state of frustration. Always second best to his sister. Always to be the dutiful son. Half-crushed by that mad countess you served. And now, finally, when you nearly gain a bit independence, your dear sister hares off to create her own colony world and you're expected to take up the load. And who do you have as a helpmeet? Me, the ex-pirate, the wealthy Lady, who's secrets you must protect, else you bring shame down on your both yourself and your House.” She prodded his leg with her toes. “I'm betting that month you spent as my prisoner aboard the Scarlet Claw was almost a paradise. No need to worry about anything when you're behind bars and a stun collar locked to your neck.”
He grunted in false humor at her statements. “I'm not going to argue with you about this.”
“What's to argue about?” She flexed her toe claws against his thigh. The little grunt of pain he released was belied by the response under the worn shorts he was wearing. “Shall I arrange for my dear husband to be kidnapped once or twice a year as a vacation, to be held in my dungeons, kept in chains, and be fed bread and water?”
“You don't have a dungeon,” he pointed out.
“I could get one,” she said reasonably. Her foot moved, pressed down again, eliciting a sharper noise from his bound throat. “For now though, this will do...”
Her husband's paws were crossed and bound behind the pole, as were his ankles, forcing his legs apart. Just for the hell of it she'd wrapped more around his waist and bare chest, and few turns around his neck, not tight enough to restrict breathing but enough to force his chin up. Rolas was refusing to look at her though, his eyes staring out over the deck to the sea beyond.
“Better?” she asked, sitting crosslegged in front of him. Rolas stretched and tugged, pulling at the ropes, testing for give and finding none. I may hate sailing but I do know a thing or two about tying knots.
“Not... really,” he replied, eyes darting away, refusing to meet hers still.
“Now that we've established you have Issues with you sister...” she began, ignoring his reply.
“We have established nothing of the sort,” he replied, blinking and finally meeting her gaze. “All we've figured out is that I'm as bad as her late husband, Kev.”
“Oh for pity's sake, Rolas,” Melanie said. “You are nothing of the sort. I deliberately provoked you. I seriously doubt that Kev Highglider was anywhere near as justified when he engaged in his abuse.”
“I hit you,” Rolas shot back, his voice anguished.
“Would you feel better if I hit you back?” Melanie paused, waiting for his reply. Rolas merely stared down at the deck, the ropes around his neck digging into his jaw. “Hmm?” she prompted.
“This is fine,” he replied, flexing his bound arms.
“I'll take that as a 'maybe',” she noted.
“It was not,” he countered, though he still stared at the deck, not at her.
She stood up, deliberately, emphasizing her control over him through body language as she crossed her arms and stared down at him. “You complain a lot when I lead you into our little bedroom games, but you never actually say 'no'. And you always seem satisfied in the end. It's comforting, isn't it? A controlled loss of control. No need to worry about getting angry at someone when you're bound up nice and tight.”
“See? Even you see it,” he replied. He strained against the ropes again, testing, deliberately making the white cords dig into the flesh of his fur and skin. “I'm always angry, it seems.”
“Maybe not angry. I see a male who is in a constant state of frustration. Always second best to his sister. Always to be the dutiful son. Half-crushed by that mad countess you served. And now, finally, when you nearly gain a bit independence, your dear sister hares off to create her own colony world and you're expected to take up the load. And who do you have as a helpmeet? Me, the ex-pirate, the wealthy Lady, who's secrets you must protect, else you bring shame down on your both yourself and your House.” She prodded his leg with her toes. “I'm betting that month you spent as my prisoner aboard the Scarlet Claw was almost a paradise. No need to worry about anything when you're behind bars and a stun collar locked to your neck.”
He grunted in false humor at her statements. “I'm not going to argue with you about this.”
“What's to argue about?” She flexed her toe claws against his thigh. The little grunt of pain he released was belied by the response under the worn shorts he was wearing. “Shall I arrange for my dear husband to be kidnapped once or twice a year as a vacation, to be held in my dungeons, kept in chains, and be fed bread and water?”
“You don't have a dungeon,” he pointed out.
“I could get one,” she said reasonably. Her foot moved, pressed down again, eliciting a sharper noise from his bound throat. “For now though, this will do...”
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no subject
Date: 2014-10-05 04:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-05 04:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-05 05:39 pm (UTC)Aside from that, how was it?
no subject
Date: 2014-10-05 05:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-05 09:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-05 10:31 pm (UTC)Part One: In which Rolas expresses disatisfacion and suggests a vacation.
Part Two: In which Melanie suppresses her hatred of boats for the sake of marital harmony.
Part Not Written: A few days of sea to let tensions stew between them, interrupted by periodic vomiting.
Part Punch: In which Melanie gains an insight into Rolas' childhood, and a black eye.
Part Cool Down: In which Melanie utilizes her usual methods of personnel management.
Part Not Written: In which a storm overtakes the boat they must abandon ship.
Part Rough Beaching: In which Mel reveals her delicate condition, and somewhat ill thought out method of insuring the contiuity of her marriage.
Part Not Written: They discover the secret base of Robot Gerwart Undead Skeletons.
no subject
Date: 2014-10-06 03:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-06 08:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-10-07 12:50 am (UTC)