"He was looking at you," Tyr snarled, slamming the door behind him.
"Oh come on, Cal's straight."
"Until a couple of months ago, I was straight. Or at least, everyone thought I was. You shouldn't have worn that anyway. Take it off."
I shouldered past him, swaying slightly. I don't often dress in drag but all the same, I normally handle a pair of heels as well as the best of them. Sober, that is. After a few drinks, it becomes another matter. I collapsed onto the leather sofa, crossing my legs. Felt his eyes on me as my skirt hiked up, revealing a stocking top and several inches of thigh.
"And stop that," he growled "This is not going to end the way you want."
"Oh captain," I teased, dropping my eyes modestly, playing the role that went with the outfit, "when you take that tone of voice with me, I just melt."
His face twitched before breaking into a reluctant smile.
"Why do you have to provoke me?" he said, sitting beside me.
"Why are you so easy to provoke?" I replied with a wink.
"You look uh pretty convincing in this." He ran a hand over my leg, under my skirt.
"Oh, don't be fooled by my womanly wiles. Under this, I'm still all man - uh," I choked on the rest of my sentence as he began to fondle me.
"You talk too much," he whispered, building a rhythm, stroking me to fullness. I let my head fall back on the couch, exposing my throat. Through half-closed eyes, I saw him lick his lips, face suddenly predatory. Skins take a willingly exposed jugular as a sign of submission, an acknowledgment of rank. Oh yes, I knew how to play this game.
I fluttered my fingers against the pulse in my neck, tapping the artery. The warmth of his mouth closing over them, briefly nipping the tips before latching onto my throat.
I heard myself slip into the the strange wavering language of the Smokes, saying one word over and over again.
"What does that mean, baby? What are you saying?"
"Don't stop," I breathed, "I'm saying don't stop. Please don't stop."
I was sorry when I felt his hand release me. The man was a damn tease. His eyes roamed over me and I knew how I must look to him, skirts in disarray, all wound up with desire as I waited for him to take the lead. When he didn't move, I wondered if I'd pushed him too hard earlier. There was a pattern to this - I'd provoke him and he'd punish me later. But maybe this time I'd really upset him. He hadn't wanted me to wear this. We'd even argued about, going round in circles for days. He felt I was making it harder for his squad to accept us being together, I felt like I needed to take a stand and let him know there was a limit to how much I was willing to compromise for the sake of his career.
Maybe this was my punishment. He'd take me to the edge and then back off, leaving me unsatisfied. That was cruel, even for Tyr.
"How does this come off?"
Tyr's voice, low and measured, his hands hard and desperate as they struggled with my clothing. Laces and ribbons – more elaborate then he was used to. Relief washed through me.
"Don't tear it," I snapped, deliberately provoking him and was rewarded with a slap, stinging even through the satin covering my hip. I felt myself harden. He grabbed the neckline, yanked with enough force to tear the fabric.
"I don't take that kinda lip from anyone. Even you, Bunny. Especially you," Tyr practically purred. He knew where this was going. I fought back a smile.
"This is not going to end the way you want."
Yeah right.
Cold leather on my back and shoulders as he crowded me into a corner of the sofa. Hot breath on my cheek. When his tongue circled the sensitive tip of my ear, I groaned, arching against him.
"Looks like I have to teach you some manners."
"Do you think you're man enough for the job?" I taunted.
In response, he gripped my throat. Not tight enough to present any real danger but enough to make me aware of the possibility. My breathing hitched. Between that and his weight pressing down on me, I was trapped and we both knew it.
Of course, I could shift my hips, upsetting his equilibrium and throw him off me. Or Mist-Step, leaving him with nothing but the scraps of satin and lace I was wearing. But that'd ruin the game.
Instead, I writhed under him in a half-hearted attempt at escape. His grip tightened, talons pin-pricking the delicate skin. He licked my ear again, his breath flowing over my face like warm silk. With a whimper, I ground my hips against his. I was drowning in sensation - his lips on my ear, my cheek and then my mouth in a deep kiss, the pressure on my throat, his nails digging hard enough to make me shiver. The wet warmth of my blood, its coppery smell. Then his tongue swirling over the shallow scratches, cleaning them as delicately as cat washing a kitten.
I relaxed under his tender attentions, letting him own me completely. I was his - whether he chose to lick away the blood or make me bleed some more. There was a freedom in that. I could beg for pain or pleasure but only Tyr could decide which I deserved. I felt the hard edges of life begin to recede. Everything but the man above me seemed so far away.
"That's a..very provocative outfit," he whispered, his voice all heat and hunger, "I don't want you to wear it again."
"So convince me."
His hand slipped from my throat to my wrist, pinning my arm above my head. I groaned at the sudden ache. If he wrenched it any further back...
"Please," I begged, rubbing up against him, twisting to increase the discomfit in my arm, to tip the sensation in the joint from uncomfortable to painful, "please convince me."
"Oh, don't worry, Bunny" he murmured, his face above me almost human, save for the blazing yellow eyes and incisors that glinted in his smile, "I plan to do just that."
-The End-
