T/W and tags: Part 2/2 from entry #6. BDSM, knife play, and electrocution.
Mikasa wakes up rather suddenly to something rumbling in the house. Her hair is unkempt, fuzzy. She glances at the clock; it has been a little more than three hours since laying down for a pleasureful nap.
The floorboards rumble again.
She can tell it's a loud, incredibly disgruntled sound coming from the basement.
A smirk spreads over her face, her nose crinkling with satisfaction as she listens to Eren ranting in the basement. The muted sound ceases for a minute as he apparently catches his breath. She collects herself over the mattress and gracefully strides into the kitchen. Several cups of water pour into the kettle on high heat. Two mugs placed beside the stove.
Eren yells again, though still a bit too indistinct to understand what he is saying. But his tone is clear enough: pissed and rebellious. Yeah. Pretty normal, even know… She laughs at herself, especially now. Mikasa smirks to herself, knowing the legitimate handcuffs should not be any easy obstacle for him.
The heat of the kettle bathes her naked body standing beside the stove as steam begins to whistle.
She cuts off the fire and walks into the bedroom. Dawning her dominatrix belt with a firm snap around her abs, she catches the familiar red blob of her scarf on the bedspread. Tying it snugly around her neck, she returns to the kitchen and pulls the tea box from the cabinet. A few drops of honey and a green tea teabag dip into one of the mugs, followed by a rush of hot water into both containers. She walks back into the bedroom as the tea steeps and the water cools to a more tolerable temperature. Her attention shifts into the black box Eren returned with, skimming through for more interesting toys to test.
Unfortunately, not too much else catches her eye immediately. At least, not for today. She attaches one to her belt straight away. But as she's closing the lid, she notices a smaller black box within, hidden among the various items.
It is utterly plain on the outside, nothing but a 6x6x10cm glossy black rectangular shape akin to its parent, with a crease around the perimeter near the top of one end. She picks up the thing and mulls it over in her hand. Removing the top, two stubby metal prongs protrude from the inside of the box, covered by a vanilla-colored wood. She turns it over in her hand again, a better suspicion of what to look for. Sure enough: the opposite side of the prongs, in a minute recess, a button. Her lips crease in contemplation.
She recaps the object and readily stands with it in hand. A jerk of her wrist alleviates the door of the black pocketknife. Returning to the kitchen again, she washes the dried blood and wood particles from the blade before folding it, locking the safety, and clipping it to her belt opposite the other tool.
She picks up both mugs with one hand and moves them to the counter closest to the basement door, then grabs the box she picked out from the bedroom and walks up to the door.
"MIKASAA!" his childish, emotive side showing itself quite shrewdly as he screams out, seeming to shake the whole foundation while she indisputably feels his struggling legs crashing against the stone, ever so gently vibrating the stairs under her feet. She snaps open the door, swapping the first tenable item within reach for the toy in her hand and hurling it at him through the stair's support beams.
A banana from the fruit basket smacks into his face with enough force to turn his head away from the doorway; the banana, bruised and partially broken open as it ricochets off his face and soars across the open space, lands atop the table in the center of the room. She steadies the mugs, recoups the toy, and quickly paces down the stairs. A delicate care places both mugs and the black box on a wall-mounted bench. A bright white light hums on, illuminating the room evenly.
She steps up beside him and looks down at him furiously, "I very specifically told you 'no noise'." Her shin lifts backward and her foot slams into his dry, blood encrusted wound. He skates across the floor, bumping into the table while loudly yelping at the freshly opened wound. Walking forward without looking at him, she grabs the prostrate banana from the table and looks down at him momentarily. Eren looks up at her with a concerning frown as he watches her peel the skin from the destitute fruit.
Kicking him onto his back, she drops on top of him with her full weight, crunching his arms between the floor and his back. Her shins rest her full weight on his abs and chest as her head stoops over and glares at him intensely, "Open your mouth." Her slick, black bangs shimmer back and forth in the bright light.
Eren hesitates very deliberately, not wanting a banana shoved down his throat. She rocks her weight back and forth over top of him, grinding his arms into the floor. But he resists the pain.
Her free hand slaps him, the crack echoing through the damp room. "I said, open your mouth." Her intense glare continues to beam right through him.
Still, he refuses.
Her fingers wrap around his scrotum, tightening rapidly and pulling his skin taught until her head tips forward again. Eren's eyes flicker, recognizing the danger as he reconsiders his path.
But she doesn't give him the luxury of time: twissttt.
Eren's legs shrink inward with the most innate of reflexes as he cries out through gritted teeth, a tear streaming from his eye.
"Open your damn mouth, man-whore."
She can feel his pecks spasm under her legs, the extreme pain screaming through his body without check. A moment passes before his jaw hinges open, plainly somewhat delirious from the pain; perhaps even in response to the pain and not her instruction.
Her hand raises the banana into the air and whips it downward to his mouth, stopping suddenly and gingerly placing it into his mouth.
"Eat."
He looks at her cautiously, uncertain that it isn't some feint or diversion or cruel trickery. But slowly obeys – his teeth grind down the soft fruit meat as he continues eyeing her at the edge of his vision while the tunnel vision fades away.
Mikasa snaps her legs to the floor instantaneously and stands, walking back to the bench to hold her tea as if nothing happened. She turns, leaning against the wall as she quietly sips her tea. A few taste-tests swig down nearly a third of the fluid, "See. That isn't so bad is it?"
Eren, still chewing, mumbles something incoherent through his food absently. She places the cup on the bench and swaps it with the other one.
He doesn't have time to look in her direction as she pours the hot water onto the center of his chest, "Don't talk with food in your mouth, man-whore." Eren recoils at the fresh hell, spitting out the remains of the banana as his eyes clamp shut in response to the roasting water over his skin. His yell isn't as loud as when she kicked open his wound – and certainly not the twist – but it nonetheless provides her another impetus. A foot wedges under his back, kicking him onto his side first, then onto his belly. Her fingers grip at the roots of his hair and gruffly yank his head back.
His finger feel the loose skin between her legs graze over them. He groans quietly, feeling his hair pleading with him from her pull.
"Alright man-whore, index fingers straight and in the air. Together." One hand holds his head back by his hair as the other combs through it thoughtfully, feeling the texture.
It takes him a moment to register her wish but follows it as best as he can. The metal around his wrists clattering briefly as his arms twist around and his fingers protrude from his back prominently, back-to-back. She raises herself and lowers onto his outstretched fingers.
He can feel her weight shift, quickly followed by the warm, enveloping grip of her interior walls being buffed by his fingers.
A hand strokes through his hair again, "Now wriggle them." A brief pause before she feels his fingers warbling around within her, hooking back and forth animating the preexisting energy within her core, teased by her own commands. Her thighs tense against his flanks as she enjoys the stirring.
Silence passes for a few breaths as she lets him toil. Her free hand slips from his hair and latches onto his shoulder, the other still tightly gripping his hair, "Keep going, do not stop." She drags him backwards towards the bench while ignoring his groaning, a bit farther than needed to turn around and grab her tea without raising herself from his stimulating fingers. Her hand remains attached to his shoulder. Using her legs, she turns them around, then drags him across the stone back to their original position while holding the tea steady in front of her.
She can see a tear streak down the side of his face, simultaneously recalling that she may have just scraped up his genitals pretty well. Eh… he'll make do. She focuses on the combination of the hot tea dripping down the back of her throat and his fingers swimming around within her. A warm hum buzzes from her lips, growing to a throatier moan as she finishes the tea. It clatters to the tabletop noisily as she smacks her lips loudly. Her posture stiffens, "Add the middle finger of your right hand."
His forearm flexes, briefly withdrawing his right hand enough to slip the commanded finger into her. And resumes the motions.
He stirs momentously. Breaths flowing past as he waits for her to be satisfied with the struggle…
What feels like ten minutes for him pass by before she says anything more. "Good." He can feel her head nod, "Now stop. No moving."
His fingers complete one more rotation, then comply.
She leans forward, both hands wrapping around his throat and lift his head from the stone. He can feel the tips of her hair mingling with his. Her abs contract, grating his fingers against her walls. She feels a finger buckle under the pressure.
A hand leaves his throat and counterpoints against the top of his head, wrenching him in two directions at once. He coughs, her fingers digging into his neck as his forehead presses into the stone. "I said no moving."
He tries his best to stiffen his fingers. She can feel the limp digit comply, perking back upright as she waits. The pressure on his neck gradually relieves, but she holds his forehead to the cool stone as her hips resume their motion.
Ooohh. I should've tried this eons ago… Mikasa feels the fingers whipping up a frothy storm as she winds and twists her hips around on top of him. Her pace increases slightly, but primarily extends her sweeps as the electricity in her waist creeps up her back and into her eyes, fluttering them shut in a rapidly warming haze.
More rotations of her hips follow, her mind focusing more and more intently on the approaching climax. Which only serves to hasten its arrival.
A finger nearly buckles under the pressure; a momentary slip in consciousness pierces through her, one half still completely focused on the onrushing orgasm, the other half preparing a disproportionate response if he continued to fail her.
But he manages.
And she is rewarded for her efforts.
The hair on her neck stands, her thighs freeze and clutch around his back while the electricity jumps up to her shoulders then explode over the rest of her body with a momentary numbness following a hypersensitive prickle. Her ears redden and warm, her head pulling into the clouds of the familiar chittering of her breasts and the haven between her legs. Lungs shrink consistently as the cool, tingling feeling seeps past her breasts and into her chest, spreading to encompass the front of her upper body. Her abs flex against the belt, briefly remembering its presence as the euphoria distorts her awareness before being torn from her mind again.
Eren can feel her body chippering, legs clenching around him. But all he can really focus on is the still increasing pressure of her hand pushing his head into the stone, the pressure creasing around the sides of his head to the back. The discomfort becomes palpable pain and he groans, however brief.
It snaps her out of cloud nine. She sinks her hips all the way down onto him without delay, reveling as the tips of his fingers tease her insides even more desperately despite their slumber. He can feel her abs flex, not directly over his skin or hands, but through her inner walls shrinking around his fingers.
The grip lasts but a second. She stands and rolls him over with her foot again. A brief rattle shakes the air in the room as her adjustment displaces him into the table somewhat. Eren sees her hand flash to the belt around her waist, fetching the same black metal as a few hours prior. He rolls his eyes, endeavoring her not to see him as does so. Her shins meet the floor again as she shifts over him until the skin between her legs brushes against his lips tenaciously.
Her fingers hold the knife preciously, flicking off the safety and releasing the blade from its housing as she looks down into his eyes, "Start eating." Her head bobs unconsciously, "Tongue too."
She can feel his shoulders flex, obviously anxious over the return of the blade.
Well… That's where I'll cut, then…
Eren's lips cautiously close around the spare skin, eyes sweeping between the blade and her shimmering eyes apprehensively. The blade slowly disappears from sight as his lips fracture, his tongue swiping through the crease between the folds of skin. More dashes of his tongue skirt through her valley, eventually reaching the entrance contained within. His tongue solidifies to a point and pushes its way inside.
She can feel his body relax as he lets his guard down. The blade slices into his collar, etched clean through every layer of skin, drawing blood.
His throat rumbles, the vibration of his tongue conveyed into her.
Ohh.. I likee..
The blade dips into his collar again, drawing a clean parallel line beside the first cut to his outside.
Again, his tongue rattles against her entrance.
Two more parallel lines lacerate his flesh, each drawing their intended response: more vibrations of his tongue within her well. Eren's whole head shudders, feeling the pain leaking from the source. His tongue extends, eager to cease her masochism.
But it has the opposite effect in her mind.
She blindly carves an opposing cut into the first one, producing a trademark "X" about a quarter of the size of the original.
His tongue, fully extended within her, shakes vibrantly. Her legs clench around his face adamantly as a surge of chemicals breeze past the expected temporal barrier hiding her next orgasm.
The blade briefly laxes from her grip, the hilt touching to his chest as her whole body quivers. Eyes shut tight, colors bounding over her vision vividly. Legs static, but still jolting internally as waves of extasy sweep down, then up, and back down through her mind's perception.
Eren tries to breathe a sigh of relief, hoping her satiation with the envious orgasm coursing up and down through her body serves a considerable distraction.
The hilt leaves his chest, and his eyes widen in horror.
She swaps hands behind her back.
The blade dips into his other collar, blood quickly seeping through the skin as the rattle of his tongue persists.
Rapid blade sweeps carve an identical, mirrored pattern into him blindly as her orgasm only intensifies. Her body shakes more violently, legs squeezing against his face so hard it effectively locks his jaw wide open. The edge of her scarf slowly creeps down her chest as her quivering shakes it loose.
Eren can practically hear his tongue screaming at him to stop. But, is more fearful of the potential wrath of the woman with a blade of whom is more than capable of killing multiple imposing titans with a dulled, broken, and single edged short sword; even if she is momentarily incapacitated by an overwhelming orgasm shutting out her other senses and even if she is fanatically intimate with him alone. He still bets the plausibility that she notices his retreat being far more dangerous than some muscle strain, though.
His tongue continues writhing around inside her, protesting all the same.
Seconds pass as the pain creeps through his jaw and into his ears.
Finally, he feels her relax. Her weight sinks onto his face as her head drops, looking down at him with a much kinder tone than previous. He stuffs his hope in a box, and waits.
He blinks, vainly attempting to push the pain now coursing through his whole head aside. Her fingers sweep through his hair, gently pulling at the curls in his hair while her eyes flash over his, dancing side to side exuberantly. The knife drops to his chest for the moment it takes her to adjust the scarf from her breasts.
"You can stop," her tone is soft, reclaiming the knife.
Eren relaxes immediately, letting his tongue slack in his mouth and relaxing his whole head. A curdle chokes through his throat as he groans.
Mikasa turns slightly, her head shifting backwards and eyeing something. Eren pays no attention as he tries to focus on his reprieve.
He feels her fingers tease his head, briskly brushing over the smooth skin drawing him to attention. Blood swells into his softened rod.
She puckers her lips, looking back down at him expectantly. Her hips shake, her legs crawling backwards from his face over his chest until she feels the familiar pressure of his erection press against her from behind.
The blade flutters between her fingers expertly, dancing back and forth through them for several seconds as he recognizes the flashing of metal in the light. His head raises, eyes widening as he dreads more bloodshed – his bloodshed. Her hand flicks upward violently, the blade jiving through the air with a ridiculous rate of spin and flipping end over end. Her hand disappears, giving the impression she's going to let the blade land where it will, calculated or not.
His eyes widen even more, head rising to look over his chest as he expects the hilt to protrude from his skin any moment. The knife hits its apex, still spinning about rapidly as gravity pulls it back down to his chest.
The tip of the blade stops less than a centimeter from his navel, pincered between two of Mikasa's fingers. Blade facing downward toward their hips. A wry grin menaces her face.
Eren drops his head to the floor, relieved.
He feels the tip of the blade touch his skin, spinning 180 degrees until she traces it up to the center of his sternum, dancing around on the tip in another flourish. The weight of the knife rests on the tip, sinking into his skin. He is unsure if it pierces his flesh and rests on his bone or is simply balanced on his skin, either way he refuses to breathe.
Her fingers circle around his girth, slowly drawing his skin upward as his involuntary response hardens his mass. Two more strokes is all it takes until she feels him hard enough to ride. She wastes no time, pitching him upright and rapidly enclosing the confines of her legs around his upright member. Long, smooth strokes draw her hips up and down his length. Soaking in the feeling of filling her own desire at her own tenacious pace. Her hips flick, reveling as she feels him stimulate a streak of nerves on either side of her body. The tension blazes up through her body, pronounced on her flanks and in her arms.
A shiver races over her skin, briskly followed by goosebumps flushing over parts of her forearms.
Eren notices her pull something from her belt, but not before it slaps into his chest wound.
He inhales in surprise, breathing in a long-delayed breath as he waited for the blade to leave his skin. Still waits for it to leave his skin.
It sinks into his flesh, stopping against the bone of his fused ribs.
Euhheh… shitt… he groans to himself, resenting the blade more than the woman holding it. His mind bends between the multiple sources of bleeding, crushing pain, and irksome levels of pleasure seeping into his mind from multiple opposing directions. He tries to steady himself, mentally as she sinks herself onto him in another terse sweep of her hips. Tatakae… (fight…) He wrenches his head forward, looking up at her solemnly.
Their eyes catch and she immediately recognizes the look. A sweep of the paddle across his cheek and a very light pressure on the blade does little to quell his doggedness. Recognizing the futility of the effort, she stands, collecting the knife and paddle in a single hand. She steps over to bench and grabs the black box from its confines.
The top bounces onto the table in the center of the room – Mikasa closes the distance between them in a fleeting second, back to her position atop his subordinated staff with ease. She drops the paddle, letting it fall from his ab to the floor as she replaces the knife on his sternum.
Eren's eyes still blaze the same fury as ever.
She presses the metal prongs of the black box into his flank, then presses the button.
A jolt of electricity arcs through his side, sharply contracting his body to the side for a brief instant. Motherf- "UCker!"
She laughs at him; loud and cheery. Eren tries to scramble out from under her, ignoring the blade scraping over his chest irregularly, but utterly fails with her multipronged grip retaining him. "That would temper you," she laughs, surely not expecting it to actually tame him.
Still, he struggles. His eyes flare up again, mouth opening in what would likely be a torrent of various expletives and only moderately disingenuous threats – all promptly cut off by another bolt of electricity. His body mirrors the jolt – a prompt yelp sprouting through his throat. He curses at the open air, despite his furor, still careful to aim it not at her, but at the objects. Open space. His own demure. Anything but at her…
She zaps him again. His face snarls, contorting as he tries to muzzle himself just enough to avoid the pain of direct current electricity. Breathing deeply, he opens his eyes again and focus them on her face. Her attention firms on his reactions, ignoring the protrusion between her legs for the time being.
Slowly, deliberately she presses the prongs to his belly and holds his eyes. Eren doesn't move, laying rigid on his arms as he waits with an unlikely bated breath.
Mikasa doesn't press the button, but keeps the crude battery firmly presses against his skin as she slowly resumes stroking her hips over him. Eren groans as the sharp pains of being electrocuted, slapped, and incised break away to attempting to suppress, actually suppress his strong erection.
She flips the knife up, licking the blade clean on both sides and folding it together with one hand. It attaches back to the belt and she picks up the paddle, pressing the short edge into his cheek, just above his jaw until he eases his head back to the ground. Her head tips back in anticipation, awaiting his compliance as her hips rock and roll over him with rising intensity. Slowly, somehow still reluctantly, he accedes. The paddle briefly tips away from his face, "No noise. No climax." Her hips roll front to back with an articulate exaggeration, "Understood?"
His eyes shimmer, but he nods hesitantly.
"Good."
She steps on the gas, rapidly sweeping past any barriers she had on her movement. The paddle flops to the stone, one hand still holding the battery to his belly. Her free hand slicks over his chest wound, using the blood as lubrication until her palm seals most of the major pair of lacerations. But it doesn't prevent more blood seeping around the edges. His chest shrinks away from the pain, succeeding in going nowhere as more of her weight shifts onto his bleeding heart. Her hips twerk feverishly, rising until just the tip of his head rolls around inside her. Then sinks back down with a ciphered pattern.
Her abdomen stutters, feeling the initial clutter of euphoria sweep across her lower waist. The feeling rises, incredulous and reluctant at first. But rises nonetheless. Her head rolls around, down and looking at him through cloaked bangs. Eye contact blistering, forceful, and weighty.
Eren struggles to hold the view, his subconscious mind absolutely determined to fill her with a warm, white fluid. His legs trembling, toes curl vicariously, he feels his mind failing its one and only conscious task at hand – endure. A minor shift in his posture moves more of their weight onto the metal cuffs around his wrists, using the biting pain as something of an anchor to focus on. But it does little to wipe away the insatiable desire to explode.
He feels her lean backward, his erection following her movement. Stretching downward at an unusual angle as he finally recognizes her mind is swimming. That does little to abate the heat in his waist, though. The desire to release himself still strains his mind extensively, prying its fibers apart as he struggles to find something, anything to distract himself… Tatakae… (Fight…) Focus. Retaliation. Reprisal. Retribution…
Eren feels her stop moving, but weight still seemingly falling towards his legs – a bloody hand drags a streak of blood down his abdomen.
Debating with himself, he gives in to his curiosity. Raising his head, he sees her body in a great obtuse. A single arm against the floor as she struggles with herself for the moment to keep balanced. But he still dares not move.
Seconds pass.
Her legs contort, her body flinging itself forward until both forearms rest on his chest. Black hair isolates their heads as she breathes deeply.
Mikasa opens her eyes. Steel grey eyes spark against the ocean eyes below her, her mouth askew. Laggard, Mikasa slumps to his chest – the dense drains of energy finally catching up with her consciousness.
Eren coughs, less of discomfort and more to try and slyly remove himself from her confines so he no longer need fight with himself anymore than he already waits. If she cares, she gives no outward sign; still slumped against his chest. Her head retracts, her breathing catching up with her like her dappled energy reserves. She barely feels his blood squeeze between her jaw and his chest, head slacking into his neck.
Seconds bleed into minutes. Eren begins questioning if he can move.
She feels his legs shift somehow. Her faded eyes brighten slightly, hands planting on his chest again. She rises, enough to look down at him and draw a fresh breath of air. Her legs straighten, standing and turning back to the bench without saying anything. Eren sits up, greatly relieved to no longer be resting on his arms.
"Y'know, I have been tortured before… but that…" he trails off before long, "ahh.." he feels a sharp pain shoot through his lung, "god damn, woman…" He shakes his head, heaving a lungful of air without her weight on him.
Mikasa's face pulses with satisfaction. She turns back to him, her hand running through his hair and taking control again. His head follows her grip, pulling him back to the stone. He groans, getting flashbacks of the whole ordeal all over again. Why, why did I have to say something.
Her hips jimmy over his face again, right up to the point that his eyes evenly cast up the vertical surface of her body. The blade appears from its holster. His eyes stare at hers, coasting right over the landscape of her body.
Ahhhh…
It flicks sideways and the broad end presses against the smooth skin between her hips, the pointed tip aiming at the crease between her legs. She sways her head back and forth, acting innocent. "Perhaps… it has something to do with this?" she taps the blade to her skin a few times.
Eren says nothing. A quick flick of his tongue through her nether region being his one and only response.
She withdraws the blade, stowing it smartly. Her lips purse, gratified, "That's what I thought."
Standing once more, she produces a key from the inside of her belt. It melts into the locks between his ankles and unshackles his legs. She hangs the cuffs over her belt. Eren looks up at her while her back is turned, a flash of rebellion framing his demeanor.
"Stand," she commands. He follows, swiftly.
Too swiftly. She squints at him, knowing the signs.
His stance shifts, everything just shy of asking to have his hands uncuffed. She pretends to go with it, "Turn around." He obeys, more careful to hide his intentions. "Lean forward," she begins shunting his planning. He tries to work a new plan in the interim, but follows. "Keep going," she points him toward the ground "Ninety degrees to the floor. Your hands to the floor the moment one hand is uncuffed." A brief pause, then adds, "Hands together."
Crap..
He continues to obey, leaning forward until his upper body runs parallel to the floor. He feels her adjust the cuffs, a single one unlocking. The slightest hesitation brings a kick to his shin, spreading his legs. He rests his weight on his four extremities, hands together.
She walks around in front of him and reclasps the open cuff to his wrist. Eren tries his level best to fight back the urge to resist. But like it or not, she can still see it dwelling within him without the slightest issue.
"Stand." He obeys. "You have sixty-nine seconds to clean the whole room. No blood, no water on the ground. Table centered. Both mugs on the tabletop behind me." She pauses very briefly, "Oh, and finish the banana. From 'go,' understood?" Eren's eyes narrow, his lips quiver in protest to the perfectly legitimate issue of having nothing to clean the fluids with. She anticipates him, however. Reaching into a hamper in the wall corner by the base of the stairs, she pulls out a single red towel and a single light blue towel, tossing each into the room in a discombobulated clump. "Understood?"
He hesitates a quarter of a breath, but nods curtly.
She waits.
And waits…
She produces a stopwatch from her belt. Twenty breaths later, "Go."
Eren moves without haste. He grabs the red towel and draws it towards his chest, but she snaps at him, "Ahh-ah! Other way around."
He hesitates, but silently complies. He drops the red towel and spreads it over the ground with his feet, drawing up most of the puddled water on the floor while nudging the table to center. He can see her eyebrows ruffle from the corner of his vision, taking it as a reminder of "no water" being completely literal. His feet swipe in broader strokes, covering more ground until he sees nothing glistening on the ground. Tossing the red towel into the corner beside the hamper, he grabs the light blue one and pats it against his chest – drying and removing the congealed blood. Unsure if she meant the blood on her too, he hesitates, looking at her face carefully; no lower.
Mikasa catches his hesitation and steps forward. She hinges her jaw down, but keeps her lips sealed together as she leans forward with an innocent detention. He takes a few seconds to draw a clean edge of the towel to her jaw and cheeks, precisely wiping the thin streaks and imprints of blood from her face.
He tosses the towel into the corner then moves the mug on the center table to the surface behind her.
Her finger nudges at piecemeal remains of the banana. He squints at her. Her composure hardens immediately. Still squinting at her in contempt, he stoops over and pops the small piece into his mouth, swallowing without chewing.
She stops the timer. A brow lifts, "Fifty seconds." A brief pause as she reacts, "Good man-whore."
Mikasa turns and grabs the mugs with one hand, gripping the black box between the fingers of the same hand. But before she completely lifts the mugs from the table, she notices Eren's movement; She need not see the rebellious motions to know his form.
The knife edge presses against the long of his nose in an instant. She stands on her tiptoes, evening their heights while coaxing him backwards as she 'encourages' him with the blade. "Oh? Have we forgotten the hierarchy here?" His eyes cross, focusing on the blade momentarily before resting on her very adamant face.
She holds the pose, waiting for an answer.
"Mhmm, that's what I thought." She removes the blade from his face, "You have two choices: either I cuff your ankles again and you struggle your way to the top of the stairs before I release you… OR you walk up to the top of the stairs without the embarrassment, then I release you." She perks up, letting her candor seep through her tone, "Your choice."
Eren's eyes narrow, skeptical of the trap.
The blade reappears unexpectedly, "No tricks," she threatens him.
His eyes narrow again, but his head dips. "Now, please."
The blade disappears just as quickly, "Good."
She begins to turn away. Eren tries to make it look like he's just wiping his hair aside, but the cuffs are pressed up against her side – he utterly fails to swipe them from her.
Her response is swift and severe; a leg sweeps under his in a blur, crashing him to the ground. "Baka… (Stupid)…"
Eren barely catches the flash of battery press to his neck before feeling the jolt wrap around his neck. He tenses as the electricity convulses his neck muscles.
He lies on the ground, groaning as his body aches at him for falling from standing and the subsequent shock. His eyes roll around in his head. Cuffs click shut around his ankles.
"Option one it is," she chirps, as if completely expecting the outcome anyhow. She kicks his thigh, "Get up." He groans again, not moving. "Get up," more forcefully. He shifts, his legs contracting to right himself and stand as commanded. "No funny business." She advances ahead of him, standing at the bottom of the stairs with her tools and nothing more. Pointing at the mugs on the counter, "You get the mugs, one in each hand. Hold them by the handle with your index, middle, and ring fingers. No thumbs. You break either one of them, we start from square one again."
Eren shuffles over to the counter and grabs them as instructed. She ascends the stairs, watching him slowly shamble up the steps one at a time. He gets two thirds of the way up the stairs when she rounds on him; a firm shove tips him off balance just as her hands connect with his hair, the battery suddenly against his skin again. "There will be no retaliation. Understood?" She can see the panic flicker through his eyes. Her hand fakes pulling him in, "Who do you belong to?"
Eren doesn't hesitate, "You." His normally emblazoned eyes tempered, submissive .
She holds the falter, just long enough to let an ominous shade suggest itself. Then pulls him forward to balance on his own before she finishes the last few stairs.
He reaches the top of the stairs and she unlocks all four bindings. Her mood visibly softens, "Can you put the cups by the kettle, please. I'd like more tea." He says nothing, using walking as a sign of complying.
You say no retaliation… but that is not my nature. His eyes narrow in thought as she walks into the bedroom, stowing the toys. If not now… then..
The next chapter will probably be a Modern AU. I'll try to write it ambiguously so that you could consider it a part 3, if you want except the space-time inversion. After that, I probably need a change of pace…. Lol.