A Confrontation of a Different Color
Very Early Monday MorningAfter an urgent beeping awoke him, Tag opened his small massager tablet to find a message from Bidgete, written rather than spoken, in her own language, no less. He puzzled over a few words, but for the most part got the gist of her meaning, urgently wishing to meet with him. He gave a heavy sigh to his empty room, and
( Read more... )
"On the contrary," she corrected, leaning down a little to bring her face even with his. She widened her nostrils, letting the scent of him fill her head - it was only Tag, no one else, that cat creature wasn't even a ghost on his skin. Good. "I think that there is much we need to discuss, Onset. Things that need saying."
She hummed to herself, keeping tight hold of him, listening to him breathe, as she finished up his hair, leaving it unbound. She set the comb aside, but kept her grip by the roots of his hair, curling her arm around as she circled him, looking down at him sitting in her chair. She dropped the room ket down the front of her bodice. "I have waited a long time for you. I have been very patient. If it was another woman, perhaps I would even let you go along your way, contented, but this is unaceeptable to me. I will not be replaced by that creature."
She hissed out the words, and she could see the effect on him, see the way his dark blue eyes grew darker. He wasn't ready for violence yet - no, that would take more than just choice names. Inwardly, she smiled.
"Unhand me, before this turns into something you cannot take back," he growled, his fingers tightening on the arms of the chair.
She lifted her chin to him, a smirk playing over her lips. "Make me, Mo'i'rodian. Lift your hand to me, then."
He did, grabbing her hair as she held his, with both hands, gems biting into his flesh. She let out a little gasp of surprise, but when he did nothing else she started laughing, her voice trilling through it. It only made him angrier. "You don't dare, do you? My father stops you, pulls in your reins. You'll lay your hands on me like a husband but you wouldn't ever follow through."
"Shut up, Bidgete. You have no idea what you're talking about," he hissed, eyes nearly black now. So close.
"He's gelded you! When he bends you over your bed, does he call you by that name? Co'terag?"
The sting was unexpected, the blood that filled her mouth with an almost sugary metal taste even more so, and he shoved her away, making her stumble. He twisted his body away from her, grabbing at the door handle and jerking it back and forth, even though he knew it was locked.
Reply
She gathered up her skirts, then stomped over to him, grabbing him by the back of his jacket and yanking him away from the door, as easily as she would a bad kitten. She spun him around and slammed up face first into the near wall, pinning him there, pressing herself against his back, putting her chin on his shoulder. He grunted in pain, but that was all he gave her. Her voice was back to purring, back in control.
"You made a mistake, Onset," she chided, licking her lips, tasting more of her blood. "You know that I am not some weak little thing. I am not under your command. I am royalty. Look at how your cat makes you forget yourself."
She pulled up sharply on his arm while pushing him harder to the wall. Another grunt, his face contorting for a moment. "No control, no control, poor Heut. Harrcik only beat me because I was drunk."
She could feel his muscles bunching under her fingers, and that was the warning she had, as he yanked his feet up, pushing his shoulder up but making himself dead weight before she was ready for it. He thrust back against her, shoes against the wall, and they landed in a heap on the floor, Tag cyring out because she hadn't let go. He rolled and she rolled with him, gemstones scattering across the floor, silk ripping as they flailed their legs. He cracked her hard at her shin, and she gasped, releasing her hold. He ducked out of her reach as she lay there for a moment, getting her bearings.
Reply
She sat up on her elbows, looking down her stomach at him, and gave him a slow lazy smile. What she hoped to accomplish here was anyone's guess, but he wished that he had Harrick beside him. Or the sword. Even with her skeleton laying just under her skin it would hurt her soom and possibly stun her long enough for him to get away. Getting away would be good just now.
She slowly stood, and started ripping at the skirts of her dress, chopping them to a more manageable length, ensuring that she'd never wear it in public again. She leapt at him, wings flapping, and landed heavily, pinning him again to the wall but this time facing her, something of an improvement. He saw stars swimming through his vision.
Reply
"Harrick said you have words like him. I will see them," she told him, setting Tag to struggling again. He kicked at her again, but she was ready this time, moving her legs away from him, wings making the air perfumed heavily around him.
"Stop Bidgete, please," he croaked, sagging against her arm. One tear rolled down his cheek, and she licked it up, then clucked her tongue at him.
"Don't cry, Heut. It's unbecoming."
She brought her hand up along his stomach, feeling the curve of his musculature, and her eyes widened in surprise at feeling the scars begin. She pulled apart the front of his shirt, looking down at him, then let him fall to the floor, where he knelt bonelessly, like a rag doll. She pulled off his jacket, and then his shirt, tossing them aside, Tag so much dead weight on the floor. Her hand went to her mouth, and she took a few steps back. Someone had ruined him, had taken her pretty thing and cut him all up.
"Happy now?" he hissed out at her, but there was no menace in it. He sounded tired, defeated. She stiffened her back, and looked down her nose at him.
"Yes. Put your shirt back on. It's...it's sickening, Tag."
Reply
"Look, you damned bitch! It's what you wanted!" he yelled at her, scarred flesh rippling with his holding her down. She closed her eyes tight against the sight of him, and he smacked her, a wicked backhand across her face, making the angry red of his previous asault darker. She looked then, her chest heaving under him, from one wrist to the other, from his neck to the waistband of his pants. She pushed at his hand, and he let one arm go, so she could feel the back of him. His face was slipping away from its twisted angry snarl to his usual calm facade, the one he used on his crew, as his control over himself began to creep back.
He sat back, slowly, still pinning down her legs with his, kneeling on her, and looked down. She closed her eyes again, hand sliding farther down, to cup his arse, and he gave her a puzzled look. "Bidgete, what in the hell are you doing now?"
Reply
She slid her other hand from his, and brought it down the front of him, clawed fingertips curling against his skin. He gave out a little hiss, not sure what the hell she was doing, and she smiled to herself. He was such an innocent.
"Noi'tallo, Kinset. I can't," he whispered as her fingers curled over the waistband of his slacks, and she knew that he was thinking of his cat. She growled, and grabbed his hair, pulling him back to her, other hand still firmly on his belt.
"I'm not asking you to," she purred at him, giving his head a shake with his hair, and kissed his cheek. "I want to see them all."
She let his hair go and began undoing his belt, batting his hands away every time he tried to stop her, leaving red streaks of blood when he wasn't careful enough to dodge her talons. She pushed him off of her and yanked him up to standing, pulling down his pants to his knees and undoing the laces there, stripping him of them, leaving him in his opaque white hose. She ran a hand along his leg as she stood back up, tracing the muscles there, then came around him, to his back, and tugged at them. He brought his hands around and grabbed her wrists.
"Stop, Bidgete. This is too far. You go too far."
"Harrick wouldn't stop me," she said, her words carressing his ear, and she pressed the rough lace over her breasts to his back, scratching him. Another low sound, and she felt him tremble. She knew far more about him than he'd ever care to admit. She drew the hose down, and pushed his ankles to make him step forward, watching his hands automatically go to cover himself in the front. He would be fun even as a daliance. But she was not going to let that be all she had of him, all because of that stupid little animal.
His scars were, frankly, repulsive. That someone could do this to what would eventually be her property was an affront to her very person. She could see the words in Mo'i'ro, but they were outnumbered by the damning phrases in other languages, most by the same hand.
She slid up behind him again, her arms slipping around his waist, under his arms, memorizing the hills and valleys of his body. "I could take these all away, you know that."
It made her sick to touch them, but they were a part of him. For now.
Reply
"Yes I do. I'm your friend."
"It is not a job for only a friend. Not even Harrick could do it." Or rather, Harrick might be able to, if he could stomach the sight of blood. It sent the big man into sobbing child mode. Tag opened his eyes again as she started tracing words, moving around him to stand in front of him. She grabbed one of his hands and brought it to her chest, laying his fingers down on a breast. He let it sit there, not moving away but not truly touching either. He could feel her heartbeats underneath it.
"I could be more."
"No, you can't. I love him, Bidgete, and that is that. It will not change."
"He is young. He'll bore of you, eventually. He will tire of your prim and proper ways, no matter how much you profess your heart to him."
"Perhaps."
"When he does, what will you do then?"
He winced. He hadn't really thought about it. "I don't know, Kinset."
"Onset, you-"
"Stop calling me that."
She quirked up an eyebrow. "You only hate it becase you know that it is true."
"Not by you," he retorted, fingers clenching on her chest. She gave out a low moan, and he pulled his hand away instantly, face and chest going red, all the way to his slightly pointed ears.
"A high enough payment and a letter from your King, and you would be," she smiled at him, wide enough that he could see the sharp teeth where most people's molars sat. Of course, she wasn't human, even if it was easy enough to forget it. "I meant what I said, before. I will be waiting, when he is done with you. I can give you things he never could. A wife. A family, more security than you've ever had. No more of this working, caring for people who don't appreciate you, looking after captains that use you to fill their faults."
He jerked his cheek away from her touch, away from her lips. He could have those things now, if he wanted them - if all he cared about was having children and a wife he could find any woman on the street and make her happy. Money he had. But it wasn't what he wanted, and Bidgete just couldn't understand that. "Bidgete, no."
"You're an ass, Tag, truly. How could you love him? How could you ever choose him over me?!" she yelled, beating her fists against his chest, though it was a half hearted effort. He pulled her close and gave her a one armed hug as she started sobbing on him. She sniffled into his hair, and he patted her, comfortingly, until she yanked his other arm up and keept crying, making him give her a real hug. He flushed, not comfortable, epecially with the way she was pressed up again him, but gave her the hug anyway, holding her.
"I'm sorry, Kinset, I really am."
Reply
"I am, Bidgete. If I could, I would love you. I just...don't."
She sniffled, wrapping her arms around him. Gods, those scars were hideous. She was dimly aware that he was entirely naked and pressed up against her, but that was secondary to her own feelings. "Not even if he left you?"
"I don't know," he answered her. She sighed.
"There's hope, then."
"Bidgete, you can't-"
"Shhhh." She set a claw against his lip, and he stopped, looking evenly at her. "At least give me that much, Heut. Give me a little hope."
"Very well," he said, and she smiled at him, giving him a soft kiss to his lips. He slid one arm out from around her, covering himself again, and she smiled wider, pulling away from him and dipping her hand into her bodice, bringing out the room key. He was already bruising up from their fight, like he always did. It was pretty to her, that, knowing that it was her work that brought it about. She tossed his hose to him and watched him dress, even though he turned away from her. It was still nice to see. She just had to pretend that he was smooth. She watched him pull on his pants, then his shirt, going from a chisled figure back to a prim one with the donning of his coat.
She helped him rebraid his hair, and wrapped it up in black ribbon, tying it tight. She gave him a once over, and nodded her approval. "Harrick and I will be having dinner tomorrow. Bring your cat, if you wish."
He gaped at her for a moment. "His name is Shin-sin-fa, Bidgete."
"Whatever. Just do it, Tag."
He nodded, giving her a pat on the cheek, and unlocked the door, letting himself out. She crossed her arms, standing in her ruined dress with her wings aching from being crushed, and smiled wide.
Reply
Leave a comment