Title: Preferences
Disclaimer: I am a student. I have never, and will not ever own anything. I will probably one day live in a cardboard box I stole from a supermarket.
Summary: Some thoughts on how Lady Margolotta got by her dress. Implied Femslash; Vetinari/Margolotta, implied Low King/Margolotta. Oneshot. Eensy weensy spoiler for Unseen Academicals.
Rating: Not sure if T or M. Let's go with M.
She liked to be on top, and so he let her. He didn't mind, and it kept her from trying to rip his jugular vein out. She also loved telling him what to do, to command him around like a dog, a slave. But sometimes, he would deny her that pleasure, and that was about when she brought the whips out and showed him who really was in charge here – or so she liked to think. And again, he let her, not because he didn't dare contradict her, but because he got a kick out of it just as much as she did. She thought she was in control, just because she was at the other end of the whip, because she was the one who held the key to the handcuffs that chained him to the bed, but upon closer inspection, it turned out to be the other way around.
At first, they had tried not to go there; after all, she had sworn to his aunt that she would keep him safe at all costs, and that included the unvoiced promise that she would leave her fingers off him. But who was she to blame? After all, he had provoked it. He had never promised anything to anyone. He had talked to her about politics, schemes and, most of all, of control. It had turned out to be what other people might have called foreplay to them, and even though they tried to avoid those topics once they knew where they led, it suddenly seemed that everything was about at least one of them. And so, he ended up being tied and gagged far more often than could be healthy.
Which was why when years later, when Vetinari heard that the Low King had presented Lady Margolotta with a rubber and leather dress, he couldn't help but smile at the private lives the two ladies must be leading.