Fanfic: The Successful Failures of El Mentedor, Chapter 8
Title: The Successful Failures of El Mentedor: Chapter 8
Word Count: About 4,100
Rating: Either PG-13 or possibly R for sexual themes and mild language.
Genre: AU/Comedy/Western
Summary: A Western AU with characters based on those from the movie Megamind.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7
FBI Warning: Okay, so you know how said I wasn’t supposed to make any chapter longer than 3,249 words? Well, I may have gotten a little carried away with this one. My publisher is going to murder me. Megamind is copyright DreamWorks. Megamind’s ears are copyright fangirls.
“Look, I’m not saying I want the government to intervene in our economic pursuits,” Roxanne told Mentedor as he placed the proper amount of coins on the innkeeper’s desk. She walked toward the stairway. “I mean, you know I’m a capitalist. I’ve worked hard for what I’ve gotten and I’m darn proud of it!” She started going up the stairs, Mentedor following her. “And, believe me, I hate paying taxes as much as the next person. All I’m saying is that if the less fortunate have to work in inhumane conditions in order to get the money to merely survive, we’ve failed as a society!” She was gesturing broadly with her hands and began to lose her balance, tipping backwards. Mentedor quickly put a hand on her back to steady her and she continued up the stairs without pausing or even seeming to notice she’d lost her balance in the first place. “I swear, these robber barons are doing more damage to innocent people through perfectly legal means than you’ve done through all of your idiotic heists combined! I mean, is it too much to ask for a few regulations? Is it?” She’d reached the top of the stairs at this point and she turned to face Mentedor as she continued to walk.
“I...honestly hadn’t put any thought into it before,” confessed Mentedor.
“And, see, that’s the problem!” she said as she continued forward. “We’re all too busy dealing with our own garbage to worry about stuff like this. And that’s how they’re able to get away with it.” She found her designated room and walked into it. Mentedor followed her in and moved toward the center of the room, seemingly trying to put some space between himself and the venting woman. “It’s just...I mean, this isn’t even something the government should have to intervene in. People should just be...good enough to know better! And yet you hear these stories about people who just...guh!” She kicked the door shut. At this point she didn’t even seem aware of Mentedor’s presence, too caught up in her own rant. “It’s infuriating! And when someone asks my stance on the government’s role in our daily lives...okay, nobody actually asks me that, but when I bring it up...I want to say there’s no place for it. But that’s acting under the basic assumption that people aren’t idiots. And yet, time and time again, you see...”
She glanced toward Mentedor and noticed he wasn’t looking at her. Instead he was gazing into a mirror that hung on the wall above a small table. An oil lamp that sat atop the table cast flickering light and shadows across his face. He looked sad. Roxanne forgot what she had been talking about and moved in his general direction until she was standing a little ways behind him. She looked at her own reflection in the mirror, the soft, dim light showing hints of concern on her face.
“Hey,” she said, a little awkwardly. “What’s up?”
“I hate mirrors,” Mentedor replied, not turning to face her.
“Well, that’s silly. Mirrors are...great! How...uh...how could you shave without a mirror?”
“My facial hair grows very slowly. I only have to shave about once a month.”
“Huh.”
Mentedor paused. “What am I?”
That caught Roxanne a little off guard. “You mean...you don’t know?”
He sighed. “I can remember back to my infancy. Me and Mount at the orphanage. But if I ever had any memory of my parents or...any home I might have come from...it’s gone.”
“Well, that...sucks, I guess. But...don’t take this the wrong way, but does it really matter?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean...you are who you are, right? Who cares where you came from?”
“Everyone but you, apparently.”
“Sorry, I just...I guess it’s always just seemed pretty...trivial to me. It’s not where you come from. It’s where you’re going.”
“Where I’m...?” He paused again. “You know, I’d always hoped I could use this,” he indicated his face, “to my advantage. And I suppose I have. The fear I instill in the common folk is a most useful asset. It’s just...not the exactly the image I’d once hoped to project.”
“Which was...?”
“I thought I might cultivate a certain...foreign charm as a part of my persona. I would not be perceived as a grotesque, blue outcast but a alluringly, exotic foreigner.”
“Okay, that explains the Spanish then. But would it have been too much for you to invest in a phrasebook instead of just making stuff up?”
“Honestly, you’re the first person who’s ever called me out on it. I used to think I was rather by-en at it myself.”
“Wow.”
“I’d just like to know. If there are any others out there like me. Or if my parents abandoned me as soon as they saw I was a freak. My remarkable brain can accomplish feats most people could never dream of. And yet I can’t even figure out what I am.” He looked a little frustrated. “I just...wish someone could tell me.”
Roxanne hesitated. Then she slowly began to walk toward him. He saw her reflection approaching his and he turned to face her. She stopped in front of him and took a moment to really observe what he looked like. And she realized it had been years since she’d been aware of just how odd his appearance was. The blue skin. The oversized head. Was this what everyone else saw when they looked at him? She found herself strangely intrigued.
She reached her right hand out toward his forehead and he automatically pulled back a little. She stopped for a moment, then touched her fingertips to his skin. As she slowly slid her hand to the upper-right-hand side of his cranium, he moved his head back forward slightly to fill her palm, looking at her curiously. His skin was cool and she could feel his skull right beneath the surface. Funny, somehow she’d thought his head would be soft, it was every bit as solid as a normal person’s. A little oddly shaped, though; symmetrical but not a perfect, smooth curve. She put her other hand up to the opposite side of his head and explored the surface. He looked at her with some wonder, but remained silent and didn’t make a move to stop her.
She moved her hands back down his forehead and ran her thumbs across the smooth, sparse, black hair of his eyebrows.
He had dark lashes surrounding his amazingly vivid emerald-green eyes. They seemed to carry so much soul and emotion in them, although she couldn’t exactly define what they were supposed to be conveying at the moment. Sadness was probably the closest thing she could think of, but it wasn’t that. Not exactly.
She traced the fingers of one hand down his almost elf-like nose as the other hand moved down his temple. She noticed a pinkness in his cheeks. Had that always been there or was he blushing? She wasn’t sure.
She rested a hand on one of his cheeks while the other moved down his chin and touched his thin, black goatee. It was smooth and sparse, very much like his eyebrows. She stroked her thumb down it, feeling how soft it was. Then back up, bristling the hairs. Then back down, smoothing it once more.
She moved the hand up to his mouth and ran her thumb over his lips. She repeated this motion, stroking his upper lip then his lower lip as she looked into his eyes. He just stared at her, not moving, not making a sound.
She moved her hand from his lips up to his cheek and moved her other hand up toward his ear. He had interesting ears. They were shaped differently than a normal person’s and their color dissolved from his regular blue skin tone to pink around the edges. She stroked her thumb across the cool shell and he inhaled deeply. She hadn’t been expecting that. This was the most acknowledgement he’d given her since she’d started touching him. Her thumb continued to explore the soft curvature of his outer ear. He still wasn’t moving or making any verbal noises, but his breathing had deepened and his eyes stared into hers with a look she finally recognized. Roxanne smirked a little. She liked the feeling of control this gave her. She kept working his ear with a light touch, feeling its coolness, its thinness, its peaks and valleys.
“Does that feel good?” she whispered.
He paused a moment before whispering back a very clear, “Yes.” The way he was looking at her made her think he might pounce on her at any moment. But he didn’t move. He just stood there, breathing slowly, heavily, staring into her eyes.
When she’d first reached out to touch his forehead, there had been nothing sexual about it. She had just been curious. But now Roxanne was enjoying the power of turning him on with such simple movements of her fingers. And seeing the want in his eyes was making her feel oddly aroused herself. She looked back down to his mouth.
She leaned in and gave him a long, gentle kiss on his cool lips. He barely responded, moving his lips just slightly against hers, the rest of him staying frozen in place. She broke the kiss and then went in for another. On some level she knew that this was a bad idea and that she’d probably come to regret it. But she didn’t care for the moment.
She continued rubbing his ear, as her kisses became more passionate. Meanwhile, he continued to barely respond, although his breaths were coming deeper and faster. This was too much fun. She continued playing with his ear, and eventually he sounded as if he were nearly hyperventilating. She heard him whimper, quietly. Then he grabbed her suddenly, one arm around her back, the other gripping her hair, kissing her franticly and hard. She responded in kind. They brought their lips together quickly, again and again, moving and sucking like they couldn’t get enough of each other.
This went on for some time before it became clear that both were running out of breath and they slowed their pace stopped. Roxanne draped her forearms over his shoulders and they panted into each other’s faces, unable to speak for the moment.
Finally, Mentedor managed to whisper through breaths, “What. The heck. Was that?”
She smiled. “We just made out.”
“Yes. Yes, I got that. But why?”
This was a good question, and it made her feel a little self-conscious. “I was...trying to figure out what you were.” Admittedly that was how the touching had started, so she figured that was an accurate enough answer.
“By kissing me?”
“...Yes.”
“And...?”
“You’re...” She thought for a moment. “...blue.”
Mentedor blinked. Then he started to chuckle. “Well, that explains it then,” he laughed, quietly.
Roxanne giggled. “I know, right?”
Mentedor started snickering harder. “Truly your powers of observation are unrivaled.”
Roxanne could feel Mentedor’s shoulders bouncing as he laughed and she found she couldn’t contain her giggles either. “Hey, shut up,” she laughed.
He leaned his forehead up against hers and they stood there together, trembling with restrained laughter. Eventually Roxanne pulled her head away a little and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she put her arm back over his shoulder and looked at him. He was smiling at her, a weak but sincere and beautiful smile.
“I’d never looked at you before,” she said.
The smile left his face and he arched an eyebrow in confusion. “Beg pardon?”
“I just...I like your face. It’s interesting. It makes me curious to see the rest of you.”
It seemed to take him a moment for these words to register. Then his eyes widened. “But...you hate me.”
“Sometimes. I do. Sometimes. Not at the moment. Mostly I just hate the things you do. And the way you act.”
“What’s left after that?”
She tilted her head. “I don’t know. Something inside, I guess.” She reached a finger up to his face and stroked it down his cheek. “Mind if I ask you a personal question?”
“I...suppose not.”
“Are you a virgin?”
He looked startled. Then he laughed, nervously, avoiding her gaze. “Ha! Don’t be ridiculous.”
She smirked at him, one of her eyebrows arched skeptically, and when he looked back at her his face fell.
“Was it the kissing?” he asked, sadly.
“No, you’re a very good kisser.”
He seemed to brighten a bit at this.
She moved in a little closer. “Do you ever think about it?”
“Think about what?”
“What it would be like? Making love to someone?”
He took in a deep breath. After a moment he said, “I try to stay focused on evil.”
“But you have thought about it.”
“...Yes.”
She traced her finger down his jaw line, her eyes following it toward his chin. She could guess the answer to her next question and there was a hint of teasing in her voice as she asked it. “Have you thought about it with anyone in particular?” She looked at his neck and noticed he was swallowing. When she gazed back up at his eyes, he looked ashamed.
“I’m so sorry. I swear that’s not why I kidnapped...”
“It’s okay.” Earlier that day, his confirmation would have made her extremely uncomfortable. But right now it felt good to be wanted. And to know she actually held that sort of power. “What’s it like? In your mind?”
He said nothing, just stared at her, looking very uneasy.
She found herself taking similar pleasure in watching his discomfort as she had in watching his desire. There was something very satisfying about having the upper hand after everything he’d put her through. She decided she wanted to play it up.
“I can picture it,” she said, gazing at him with lustful eyes, her voice sultry. “You and me. Lying together. None of these pesky clothes between us.”
His mouth was open and he stared at her in awe.
“So many places I could touch you,” she continued. “Hm. I’ll bet I could make you moan.” She leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on his jaw line, the moved her mouth near his ear. “I could make you feel so, so good if I wanted to.” She moved her head back and looked at him, frozen where he stood, his green eyes shining with shock and desire.
She decided to continue. “Can you imagine me lying down over there?” She motioned with her head toward the bed. “All spread out? Giving you access to every last inch of me? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
He managed to nod.
She giggled. “Yeah, I’ll bet you would.” She was smirking now. “Where would you like to touch me? Hm?”
He swallowed, but didn’t say anything.
“No answer, huh? Would you rather lick me, then?” She caressed his cheek with her hand. “Tell me where you’d like to put that obnoxiously verbose little tongue of yours.”
He continued to look at her, silently, breathing deeply now.
Oh, she was relishing this. She really wasn’t sure exactly what her ultimate goal in all this was, but watching him react to her this way made her feel very strong. Admittedly, she was a more than a little surprised he wasn’t saying or doing anything, but in a way that made this whole thing all that much more delicious. If she could render Mentedor or all people speechless, she was probably capable of just about anything. Was this what it felt like to be evil?
She leaned in again and grazed her lips against his. “I know what you want, don’t I?” she whispered to him, then gave him a soft kiss. She heard him make a faint noise. “You want me under you.” She kissed him again. He touched her face very gently, stroking it with his long, slender fingers. It felt nice. “Your skin against mine.” She gave him a longer kiss this time. He stroked her hair and she found that she had become legitimately turned on. This time when she spoke, it wasn’t merely to play with him. “Making love until neither of us can breath.” She looked into his beautiful green eyes and felt his shoulders rise and fall under her arms. She surprised herself with what she said next. “I want that too.”
He blinked at her.
She was through playing games. Any rational thought that told her this might be a mistake was drowned out by her growing lust. He looked so good right now and she gazed hungrily at him as if he were her prey. She removed her arms from him and reached behind herself. Her hand found the end of the ribbon that kept her dress secure. She pulled on it, unknotting the bow and began shrugging out of the top of her outfit.
Suddenly his hands were gripping her sleeves, pulling the dress back up, not allowing her to reveal herself.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, sincerely confused.
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean? You don’t want me or...?”
“No, I do. You...don’t even know how much. It’s just....”
“What?”
“You’re drunk.”
She smirked. “Not that drunk.”
“Drunk enough, apparently.”
“You’re drunk too,” she noted, teasingly.
“Yes, but...”
“Hey,” she whispered. She moved in and gave him another soft kiss. “It’s okay.”
“Roxanne...” He shook his head.
“I want this.”
“You want this now. But tomorrow...”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“I’m not sure you do. You’re acting...strange.”
“Please.”
“Roxanne, you don’t even like me.”
“Please.” She kissed him. “I need this. It’s been so long for me. I need to feel you.” She kissed him again. “Filling me. Stretching me. Deep inside.”
“Oh, God...” he whimpered, his hands tightening on her arms, his expression looking absolutely pained.
“Please.”
This time when she came in for a kiss, he pushed her away to arm’s length. He removed his hands from her and backed away. “I’m sorry,” he said, not looking at her. “I want this too, but...if tomorrow you wake up and realize you’d made a mistake, I.... I’ve done so much to you already, Roxanne. You’re here because I kidnapped you and now this is.... I can’t hurt you again. Not like that.”
There was a pause. When she spoke again, her voice was no longer breathy or sultry. It was just annoyed. “Are you kidding me?”
He looked up at her.
“Seriously?” she went on, her anger rising. “Now? After all this, after all you’ve put me through, now is the time you decide to be a gentleman? Now that I actually want something from you? Now?!”
“Um.” Mentedor looked around nervously.
“Good God, what is wrong with you?!”
He seemed intimidated. “Now, calm down...”
“I am calm!” she blurted out. “You calm down, you hypocritical little prude!”
“Roxanne, believe me I’m only trying to...”
“Oh, I know what you’re trying to do! For years now you’ve been acting on what you think is best for me. Pretending to know me; to know what I want. Well, believe it or not, I can make my own choices!” She began approaching him slowly, threateningly.
Mentedor backed up, holding his hands out in front of him. “Now, just listen to me, Roxanne...”
“You want it...”
“Yes, but...”
“I want it...”
“Yes, but...”
“So...”
She pounced toward him and he barely had time to dodge out of the way. Roxanne smashed front-first onto the floor with what sounded like a painful crash. Mentedor hurried back toward the center of the room and turned to see the seething woman turning toward him and rising. She blew a breath of hot air out of her nose and dragged one of her shoes on the floorboards. Then she charged.
“Gyah! Taurus! Taurus!” cried a panicked Mentedor. He quickly held out his cape, hoping that the blue lining would distract the oncoming figure. She was almost touching him when he whipped the cape up and moved out of the way, sending her running straight into a chair that had been next to the wall. The piece of furniture broke into several pieces as the woman tumbled into it.
Mentedor couldn’t help but giggle a little at this, but Roxanne was quickly on her feet again and bolting toward him. Once again alarmed, he parried her again and again and eventually managed to make his way out the doorway and into the hall. He grabbed the doorknob and yanked on it, but before the door could shut, Roxanne had grabbed the doorknob on the other side and started pulling with all her might.
“Get back in here!” she commanded.
“Roxanne, this is for your own good!” cried Mentedor, leaning back, trying to pull the door shut. “I think it would be highly beneficial if you got some rest now.”
“Don’t you ever tell me what to do!” yelled Roxanne, struggling with equal effort on her half of the door. “Now get your scrawny, blue butt in here and screw me!”
It was at that point when a short, overweight, orange-haired man carrying a bottle of liquor passed by in the hall. “Man,” he said to Mentedor, without breaking stride, “I wish I had your problem.” He found his own room and shut the door behind him.
Roxanne and Mentedor continued grappling with the door until finally Roxanne yanked it with a sudden burst of strength. The door went flying open, launching Roxanne backwards and sending Mentedor collapsing face-first onto the floor, his cape falling over his head.
There was silence for a moment. Then Mentedor lifted up the cape to see Roxanne’s motionless body lying in a crumpled heap on the ground.
Oh, God, he had killed her.
He stumbled over to her as quickly as he could and knelt by her side. He hesitated for just a moment before pressing two fingers against her neck. She still had a pulse. And breath. He let out a sigh of relief.
Mentedor sat for a little while, trying to take in everything that had just happened. That had certainly been...an unexpected turn of events. He found he was still a little too disoriented to be properly confused. So instead he just looked down at the unconscious figure with a bit of sadness.
Then he stood up, walked over to the bed, and turned down an edge of the blankets. He returned to Roxanne and gathered her in his arms. With some effort he managed to carry her over and lay her down on the mattress. He lifted her head and placed a pillow under it. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed, gazing down at her.
God, she was beautiful. The short, mahogany-colored hair parted on the side that fell in diagonal wisps over her small forehead. Her thin eyelashes that now seemed as guardians to her closed, light blue eyes. That thin, tiny nose. The barely perceptible freckles scattered on her faintly blushed cheeks. The slightly larger freckle to the lower right of her small, full lips. Her fair, slender neck, leading down to her collarbone. Her breasts. Those beautiful, perfectly shaped breasts that she had longed to show him earlier. He found himself staring at her cleavage, the valley of her chest and her now-loose dress making him yearn for her much more. He wanted so badly to stroke her soft, creamy skin, her gorgeous body more tempting than any slice of pie he could imagine. And, yes, that included strawberry-rhubarb.
He thought for a moment, then put a hand on her shoulder and gently turned her on her side. He didn’t want her to suffocate if she happened to vomit in the middle of the night. He stood and pulled the covers up to her shoulder. Then he leaned down to the spot on her forehead just below the parting of her hair and kissed her there, very gently.
He walked to the door, pausing to cast one last glance at her for the night. In his career as a villain, he’d pulled off so many complex heists, invented so many creations that even the most brilliant minds might consider impossible, battled with so many law-enforcement officials and bounty hunters, and escaped from so many prisons. By the very nature of his lifestyle he found himself being faced with near-impossible challenges on a regular basis. Sometimes he would succeed and sometimes he would fail. But of all the various trials he had faced over the years, there was one thing he was sure of.
Tonight’s had definitely been the hardest.
Preview: In the next exciting chapter of The Successful Failures of El...okay, sorry, but I just have to say...seriously? Seriously?! What does it frickin’ take?! Are these two ever gonna do it?! Oh, forget it. I give up. But, anyways...like I was saying. So, yeah. Roxanne and Mentedor head back toward Roxanne’s home, when they are encountered with an unexpected problem that will test the very foundation of who they are. How will they handle it? Will embrace villainy, heroism, or will they simple get shot in the head and die? Find out next time.
Word Count: About 4,100
Rating: Either PG-13 or possibly R for sexual themes and mild language.
Genre: AU/Comedy/Western
Summary: A Western AU with characters based on those from the movie Megamind.
Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7
FBI Warning: Okay, so you know how said I wasn’t supposed to make any chapter longer than 3,249 words? Well, I may have gotten a little carried away with this one. My publisher is going to murder me. Megamind is copyright DreamWorks. Megamind’s ears are copyright fangirls.
“Look, I’m not saying I want the government to intervene in our economic pursuits,” Roxanne told Mentedor as he placed the proper amount of coins on the innkeeper’s desk. She walked toward the stairway. “I mean, you know I’m a capitalist. I’ve worked hard for what I’ve gotten and I’m darn proud of it!” She started going up the stairs, Mentedor following her. “And, believe me, I hate paying taxes as much as the next person. All I’m saying is that if the less fortunate have to work in inhumane conditions in order to get the money to merely survive, we’ve failed as a society!” She was gesturing broadly with her hands and began to lose her balance, tipping backwards. Mentedor quickly put a hand on her back to steady her and she continued up the stairs without pausing or even seeming to notice she’d lost her balance in the first place. “I swear, these robber barons are doing more damage to innocent people through perfectly legal means than you’ve done through all of your idiotic heists combined! I mean, is it too much to ask for a few regulations? Is it?” She’d reached the top of the stairs at this point and she turned to face Mentedor as she continued to walk.
“I...honestly hadn’t put any thought into it before,” confessed Mentedor.
“And, see, that’s the problem!” she said as she continued forward. “We’re all too busy dealing with our own garbage to worry about stuff like this. And that’s how they’re able to get away with it.” She found her designated room and walked into it. Mentedor followed her in and moved toward the center of the room, seemingly trying to put some space between himself and the venting woman. “It’s just...I mean, this isn’t even something the government should have to intervene in. People should just be...good enough to know better! And yet you hear these stories about people who just...guh!” She kicked the door shut. At this point she didn’t even seem aware of Mentedor’s presence, too caught up in her own rant. “It’s infuriating! And when someone asks my stance on the government’s role in our daily lives...okay, nobody actually asks me that, but when I bring it up...I want to say there’s no place for it. But that’s acting under the basic assumption that people aren’t idiots. And yet, time and time again, you see...”
She glanced toward Mentedor and noticed he wasn’t looking at her. Instead he was gazing into a mirror that hung on the wall above a small table. An oil lamp that sat atop the table cast flickering light and shadows across his face. He looked sad. Roxanne forgot what she had been talking about and moved in his general direction until she was standing a little ways behind him. She looked at her own reflection in the mirror, the soft, dim light showing hints of concern on her face.
“Hey,” she said, a little awkwardly. “What’s up?”
“I hate mirrors,” Mentedor replied, not turning to face her.
“Well, that’s silly. Mirrors are...great! How...uh...how could you shave without a mirror?”
“My facial hair grows very slowly. I only have to shave about once a month.”
“Huh.”
Mentedor paused. “What am I?”
That caught Roxanne a little off guard. “You mean...you don’t know?”
He sighed. “I can remember back to my infancy. Me and Mount at the orphanage. But if I ever had any memory of my parents or...any home I might have come from...it’s gone.”
“Well, that...sucks, I guess. But...don’t take this the wrong way, but does it really matter?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean...you are who you are, right? Who cares where you came from?”
“Everyone but you, apparently.”
“Sorry, I just...I guess it’s always just seemed pretty...trivial to me. It’s not where you come from. It’s where you’re going.”
“Where I’m...?” He paused again. “You know, I’d always hoped I could use this,” he indicated his face, “to my advantage. And I suppose I have. The fear I instill in the common folk is a most useful asset. It’s just...not the exactly the image I’d once hoped to project.”
“Which was...?”
“I thought I might cultivate a certain...foreign charm as a part of my persona. I would not be perceived as a grotesque, blue outcast but a alluringly, exotic foreigner.”
“Okay, that explains the Spanish then. But would it have been too much for you to invest in a phrasebook instead of just making stuff up?”
“Honestly, you’re the first person who’s ever called me out on it. I used to think I was rather by-en at it myself.”
“Wow.”
“I’d just like to know. If there are any others out there like me. Or if my parents abandoned me as soon as they saw I was a freak. My remarkable brain can accomplish feats most people could never dream of. And yet I can’t even figure out what I am.” He looked a little frustrated. “I just...wish someone could tell me.”
Roxanne hesitated. Then she slowly began to walk toward him. He saw her reflection approaching his and he turned to face her. She stopped in front of him and took a moment to really observe what he looked like. And she realized it had been years since she’d been aware of just how odd his appearance was. The blue skin. The oversized head. Was this what everyone else saw when they looked at him? She found herself strangely intrigued.
She reached her right hand out toward his forehead and he automatically pulled back a little. She stopped for a moment, then touched her fingertips to his skin. As she slowly slid her hand to the upper-right-hand side of his cranium, he moved his head back forward slightly to fill her palm, looking at her curiously. His skin was cool and she could feel his skull right beneath the surface. Funny, somehow she’d thought his head would be soft, it was every bit as solid as a normal person’s. A little oddly shaped, though; symmetrical but not a perfect, smooth curve. She put her other hand up to the opposite side of his head and explored the surface. He looked at her with some wonder, but remained silent and didn’t make a move to stop her.
She moved her hands back down his forehead and ran her thumbs across the smooth, sparse, black hair of his eyebrows.
He had dark lashes surrounding his amazingly vivid emerald-green eyes. They seemed to carry so much soul and emotion in them, although she couldn’t exactly define what they were supposed to be conveying at the moment. Sadness was probably the closest thing she could think of, but it wasn’t that. Not exactly.
She traced the fingers of one hand down his almost elf-like nose as the other hand moved down his temple. She noticed a pinkness in his cheeks. Had that always been there or was he blushing? She wasn’t sure.
She rested a hand on one of his cheeks while the other moved down his chin and touched his thin, black goatee. It was smooth and sparse, very much like his eyebrows. She stroked her thumb down it, feeling how soft it was. Then back up, bristling the hairs. Then back down, smoothing it once more.
She moved the hand up to his mouth and ran her thumb over his lips. She repeated this motion, stroking his upper lip then his lower lip as she looked into his eyes. He just stared at her, not moving, not making a sound.
She moved her hand from his lips up to his cheek and moved her other hand up toward his ear. He had interesting ears. They were shaped differently than a normal person’s and their color dissolved from his regular blue skin tone to pink around the edges. She stroked her thumb across the cool shell and he inhaled deeply. She hadn’t been expecting that. This was the most acknowledgement he’d given her since she’d started touching him. Her thumb continued to explore the soft curvature of his outer ear. He still wasn’t moving or making any verbal noises, but his breathing had deepened and his eyes stared into hers with a look she finally recognized. Roxanne smirked a little. She liked the feeling of control this gave her. She kept working his ear with a light touch, feeling its coolness, its thinness, its peaks and valleys.
“Does that feel good?” she whispered.
He paused a moment before whispering back a very clear, “Yes.” The way he was looking at her made her think he might pounce on her at any moment. But he didn’t move. He just stood there, breathing slowly, heavily, staring into her eyes.
When she’d first reached out to touch his forehead, there had been nothing sexual about it. She had just been curious. But now Roxanne was enjoying the power of turning him on with such simple movements of her fingers. And seeing the want in his eyes was making her feel oddly aroused herself. She looked back down to his mouth.
She leaned in and gave him a long, gentle kiss on his cool lips. He barely responded, moving his lips just slightly against hers, the rest of him staying frozen in place. She broke the kiss and then went in for another. On some level she knew that this was a bad idea and that she’d probably come to regret it. But she didn’t care for the moment.
She continued rubbing his ear, as her kisses became more passionate. Meanwhile, he continued to barely respond, although his breaths were coming deeper and faster. This was too much fun. She continued playing with his ear, and eventually he sounded as if he were nearly hyperventilating. She heard him whimper, quietly. Then he grabbed her suddenly, one arm around her back, the other gripping her hair, kissing her franticly and hard. She responded in kind. They brought their lips together quickly, again and again, moving and sucking like they couldn’t get enough of each other.
This went on for some time before it became clear that both were running out of breath and they slowed their pace stopped. Roxanne draped her forearms over his shoulders and they panted into each other’s faces, unable to speak for the moment.
Finally, Mentedor managed to whisper through breaths, “What. The heck. Was that?”
She smiled. “We just made out.”
“Yes. Yes, I got that. But why?”
This was a good question, and it made her feel a little self-conscious. “I was...trying to figure out what you were.” Admittedly that was how the touching had started, so she figured that was an accurate enough answer.
“By kissing me?”
“...Yes.”
“And...?”
“You’re...” She thought for a moment. “...blue.”
Mentedor blinked. Then he started to chuckle. “Well, that explains it then,” he laughed, quietly.
Roxanne giggled. “I know, right?”
Mentedor started snickering harder. “Truly your powers of observation are unrivaled.”
Roxanne could feel Mentedor’s shoulders bouncing as he laughed and she found she couldn’t contain her giggles either. “Hey, shut up,” she laughed.
He leaned his forehead up against hers and they stood there together, trembling with restrained laughter. Eventually Roxanne pulled her head away a little and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Then she put her arm back over his shoulder and looked at him. He was smiling at her, a weak but sincere and beautiful smile.
“I’d never looked at you before,” she said.
The smile left his face and he arched an eyebrow in confusion. “Beg pardon?”
“I just...I like your face. It’s interesting. It makes me curious to see the rest of you.”
It seemed to take him a moment for these words to register. Then his eyes widened. “But...you hate me.”
“Sometimes. I do. Sometimes. Not at the moment. Mostly I just hate the things you do. And the way you act.”
“What’s left after that?”
She tilted her head. “I don’t know. Something inside, I guess.” She reached a finger up to his face and stroked it down his cheek. “Mind if I ask you a personal question?”
“I...suppose not.”
“Are you a virgin?”
He looked startled. Then he laughed, nervously, avoiding her gaze. “Ha! Don’t be ridiculous.”
She smirked at him, one of her eyebrows arched skeptically, and when he looked back at her his face fell.
“Was it the kissing?” he asked, sadly.
“No, you’re a very good kisser.”
He seemed to brighten a bit at this.
She moved in a little closer. “Do you ever think about it?”
“Think about what?”
“What it would be like? Making love to someone?”
He took in a deep breath. After a moment he said, “I try to stay focused on evil.”
“But you have thought about it.”
“...Yes.”
She traced her finger down his jaw line, her eyes following it toward his chin. She could guess the answer to her next question and there was a hint of teasing in her voice as she asked it. “Have you thought about it with anyone in particular?” She looked at his neck and noticed he was swallowing. When she gazed back up at his eyes, he looked ashamed.
“I’m so sorry. I swear that’s not why I kidnapped...”
“It’s okay.” Earlier that day, his confirmation would have made her extremely uncomfortable. But right now it felt good to be wanted. And to know she actually held that sort of power. “What’s it like? In your mind?”
He said nothing, just stared at her, looking very uneasy.
She found herself taking similar pleasure in watching his discomfort as she had in watching his desire. There was something very satisfying about having the upper hand after everything he’d put her through. She decided she wanted to play it up.
“I can picture it,” she said, gazing at him with lustful eyes, her voice sultry. “You and me. Lying together. None of these pesky clothes between us.”
His mouth was open and he stared at her in awe.
“So many places I could touch you,” she continued. “Hm. I’ll bet I could make you moan.” She leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on his jaw line, the moved her mouth near his ear. “I could make you feel so, so good if I wanted to.” She moved her head back and looked at him, frozen where he stood, his green eyes shining with shock and desire.
She decided to continue. “Can you imagine me lying down over there?” She motioned with her head toward the bed. “All spread out? Giving you access to every last inch of me? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
He managed to nod.
She giggled. “Yeah, I’ll bet you would.” She was smirking now. “Where would you like to touch me? Hm?”
He swallowed, but didn’t say anything.
“No answer, huh? Would you rather lick me, then?” She caressed his cheek with her hand. “Tell me where you’d like to put that obnoxiously verbose little tongue of yours.”
He continued to look at her, silently, breathing deeply now.
Oh, she was relishing this. She really wasn’t sure exactly what her ultimate goal in all this was, but watching him react to her this way made her feel very strong. Admittedly, she was a more than a little surprised he wasn’t saying or doing anything, but in a way that made this whole thing all that much more delicious. If she could render Mentedor or all people speechless, she was probably capable of just about anything. Was this what it felt like to be evil?
She leaned in again and grazed her lips against his. “I know what you want, don’t I?” she whispered to him, then gave him a soft kiss. She heard him make a faint noise. “You want me under you.” She kissed him again. He touched her face very gently, stroking it with his long, slender fingers. It felt nice. “Your skin against mine.” She gave him a longer kiss this time. He stroked her hair and she found that she had become legitimately turned on. This time when she spoke, it wasn’t merely to play with him. “Making love until neither of us can breath.” She looked into his beautiful green eyes and felt his shoulders rise and fall under her arms. She surprised herself with what she said next. “I want that too.”
He blinked at her.
She was through playing games. Any rational thought that told her this might be a mistake was drowned out by her growing lust. He looked so good right now and she gazed hungrily at him as if he were her prey. She removed her arms from him and reached behind herself. Her hand found the end of the ribbon that kept her dress secure. She pulled on it, unknotting the bow and began shrugging out of the top of her outfit.
Suddenly his hands were gripping her sleeves, pulling the dress back up, not allowing her to reveal herself.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, sincerely confused.
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean? You don’t want me or...?”
“No, I do. You...don’t even know how much. It’s just....”
“What?”
“You’re drunk.”
She smirked. “Not that drunk.”
“Drunk enough, apparently.”
“You’re drunk too,” she noted, teasingly.
“Yes, but...”
“Hey,” she whispered. She moved in and gave him another soft kiss. “It’s okay.”
“Roxanne...” He shook his head.
“I want this.”
“You want this now. But tomorrow...”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“I’m not sure you do. You’re acting...strange.”
“Please.”
“Roxanne, you don’t even like me.”
“Please.” She kissed him. “I need this. It’s been so long for me. I need to feel you.” She kissed him again. “Filling me. Stretching me. Deep inside.”
“Oh, God...” he whimpered, his hands tightening on her arms, his expression looking absolutely pained.
“Please.”
This time when she came in for a kiss, he pushed her away to arm’s length. He removed his hands from her and backed away. “I’m sorry,” he said, not looking at her. “I want this too, but...if tomorrow you wake up and realize you’d made a mistake, I.... I’ve done so much to you already, Roxanne. You’re here because I kidnapped you and now this is.... I can’t hurt you again. Not like that.”
There was a pause. When she spoke again, her voice was no longer breathy or sultry. It was just annoyed. “Are you kidding me?”
He looked up at her.
“Seriously?” she went on, her anger rising. “Now? After all this, after all you’ve put me through, now is the time you decide to be a gentleman? Now that I actually want something from you? Now?!”
“Um.” Mentedor looked around nervously.
“Good God, what is wrong with you?!”
He seemed intimidated. “Now, calm down...”
“I am calm!” she blurted out. “You calm down, you hypocritical little prude!”
“Roxanne, believe me I’m only trying to...”
“Oh, I know what you’re trying to do! For years now you’ve been acting on what you think is best for me. Pretending to know me; to know what I want. Well, believe it or not, I can make my own choices!” She began approaching him slowly, threateningly.
Mentedor backed up, holding his hands out in front of him. “Now, just listen to me, Roxanne...”
“You want it...”
“Yes, but...”
“I want it...”
“Yes, but...”
“So...”
She pounced toward him and he barely had time to dodge out of the way. Roxanne smashed front-first onto the floor with what sounded like a painful crash. Mentedor hurried back toward the center of the room and turned to see the seething woman turning toward him and rising. She blew a breath of hot air out of her nose and dragged one of her shoes on the floorboards. Then she charged.
“Gyah! Taurus! Taurus!” cried a panicked Mentedor. He quickly held out his cape, hoping that the blue lining would distract the oncoming figure. She was almost touching him when he whipped the cape up and moved out of the way, sending her running straight into a chair that had been next to the wall. The piece of furniture broke into several pieces as the woman tumbled into it.
Mentedor couldn’t help but giggle a little at this, but Roxanne was quickly on her feet again and bolting toward him. Once again alarmed, he parried her again and again and eventually managed to make his way out the doorway and into the hall. He grabbed the doorknob and yanked on it, but before the door could shut, Roxanne had grabbed the doorknob on the other side and started pulling with all her might.
“Get back in here!” she commanded.
“Roxanne, this is for your own good!” cried Mentedor, leaning back, trying to pull the door shut. “I think it would be highly beneficial if you got some rest now.”
“Don’t you ever tell me what to do!” yelled Roxanne, struggling with equal effort on her half of the door. “Now get your scrawny, blue butt in here and screw me!”
It was at that point when a short, overweight, orange-haired man carrying a bottle of liquor passed by in the hall. “Man,” he said to Mentedor, without breaking stride, “I wish I had your problem.” He found his own room and shut the door behind him.
Roxanne and Mentedor continued grappling with the door until finally Roxanne yanked it with a sudden burst of strength. The door went flying open, launching Roxanne backwards and sending Mentedor collapsing face-first onto the floor, his cape falling over his head.
There was silence for a moment. Then Mentedor lifted up the cape to see Roxanne’s motionless body lying in a crumpled heap on the ground.
Oh, God, he had killed her.
He stumbled over to her as quickly as he could and knelt by her side. He hesitated for just a moment before pressing two fingers against her neck. She still had a pulse. And breath. He let out a sigh of relief.
Mentedor sat for a little while, trying to take in everything that had just happened. That had certainly been...an unexpected turn of events. He found he was still a little too disoriented to be properly confused. So instead he just looked down at the unconscious figure with a bit of sadness.
Then he stood up, walked over to the bed, and turned down an edge of the blankets. He returned to Roxanne and gathered her in his arms. With some effort he managed to carry her over and lay her down on the mattress. He lifted her head and placed a pillow under it. Then he sat down on the edge of the bed, gazing down at her.
God, she was beautiful. The short, mahogany-colored hair parted on the side that fell in diagonal wisps over her small forehead. Her thin eyelashes that now seemed as guardians to her closed, light blue eyes. That thin, tiny nose. The barely perceptible freckles scattered on her faintly blushed cheeks. The slightly larger freckle to the lower right of her small, full lips. Her fair, slender neck, leading down to her collarbone. Her breasts. Those beautiful, perfectly shaped breasts that she had longed to show him earlier. He found himself staring at her cleavage, the valley of her chest and her now-loose dress making him yearn for her much more. He wanted so badly to stroke her soft, creamy skin, her gorgeous body more tempting than any slice of pie he could imagine. And, yes, that included strawberry-rhubarb.
He thought for a moment, then put a hand on her shoulder and gently turned her on her side. He didn’t want her to suffocate if she happened to vomit in the middle of the night. He stood and pulled the covers up to her shoulder. Then he leaned down to the spot on her forehead just below the parting of her hair and kissed her there, very gently.
He walked to the door, pausing to cast one last glance at her for the night. In his career as a villain, he’d pulled off so many complex heists, invented so many creations that even the most brilliant minds might consider impossible, battled with so many law-enforcement officials and bounty hunters, and escaped from so many prisons. By the very nature of his lifestyle he found himself being faced with near-impossible challenges on a regular basis. Sometimes he would succeed and sometimes he would fail. But of all the various trials he had faced over the years, there was one thing he was sure of.
Tonight’s had definitely been the hardest.
Preview: In the next exciting chapter of The Successful Failures of El...okay, sorry, but I just have to say...seriously? Seriously?! What does it frickin’ take?! Are these two ever gonna do it?! Oh, forget it. I give up. But, anyways...like I was saying. So, yeah. Roxanne and Mentedor head back toward Roxanne’s home, when they are encountered with an unexpected problem that will test the very foundation of who they are. How will they handle it? Will embrace villainy, heroism, or will they simple get shot in the head and die? Find out next time.