Friday, January 4, 2013

scene: mouse

She took his arm and twisted it back behind him. As he moved to break out of the hold, she swept his feet out from underneath him. They slammed into the mat. She straddled him and moved to force the shoulder lock when he suddenly managed to break out of her hold. With a shocking amount of speed, he twisted and knocked her off of himself.

Their positions reversed, she thrashed in an effort to break free. He leaned forward, pressing her wrists down into the mat beneath them and grinning into her face. “Nice try,” he said. She attemped to slip her wrists out of his hold but he simply ground the heel of his hands against them. Anger flashed in her face as she kicked. He sat on her hips and his grin turned lavacious. “I like 'em with some fight to 'em,” he said suggestively.

She rolled her eyes and abruptly stopped trying to break free. “You know this isn't about sex,” she muttered unable to keep the irritation out of her voice, “You're supposed to be helping me learn how to defend myself.” His grin grew wider. He leaned down, putting his face close to hers. As he took a deep breath in, she shivered.

“Come on,” he whispered in her ear, “Fight me.” She pulled at her wrists, making a startled squeak when he abruptly let go and leaned back. As he grinned down at her, she waited for him to get up. When he didn't move, she glared at him. He reached forward and trailed his fingertips along the neckline of her t-shirt. “Well,” he said, “You going to hit me or not?” He grinned at her, a manic gleam in his eye daring her to swing.

“Get up off me and we'll see,” she snapped at him. As he moved off of her, he gave a low, evil laugh. She rolled to her feet and looked at him. He looked up at her, spreading his arms wide as he remained kneeling before her. Taking the opening, she moved to kick him in the chest. He caught her leg in his arms and abruptly twisted it. As she fell to the ground, she scissor kicked and caught him in the side of the head.

He let go and rolled away from her as she somersaulted backwards to her feet. In a crouch, she watched her sparring partner stand. Again, he grinned at her. “Come on,” he said invitingly, “Hit me.” She crossed the distance between them in a few paces and delivered a solid blow to his shoulder. As he moved to swing at her in return, she ducked beneath his blow. She came up inside his guard and shoved him hard.

Much to her dismay, his stance was too solid and her attack was fruitless. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and dropped to the floor. He pinned her again beneath him. She writhed like a wildcat and he laughed. Grabbing hold of her wrists and holding them down against the floor just off the mat, he grinned at her yelp of pain. She managed to slip one wrist free by pure luck and struck him hard across the face.

He closed his eyes, taking a quick breath in as he savored the sharp sensation. He opened his eyes and a sensual heat mingled with his amusement. “Mm, fiesty,” he said suggestively. She feinted towards his face before delivering a direct punch to his solar plexus. With a grunt, he rolled off her. She tumbled away from him and up to her feet. Her hair half wild and a hard light in her eyes, he couldn't help but pause a moment to stare at her.

She took advantage of his distraction to kick him in the chest. She knocked him back a pace and came forward swinging. With a laugh, he traded blows with her. What she lacked in strength, she made up for in speed. As she battered his defenses, he watched the way she moved with a smile. She had a small snarl curving her lips and making her expression somewhat feral as she focused on attempting to win through his defense.

He dropped his arms and took up a solid stance. As she struck his shoulder, he moved. His arm hit her across the chest as he dropped to his knee, dragging her down as he gripped her around the waist. Rolling her over his knee, he slammed her into the mat hard enough that she saw stars. She lay there dazed beneath him. As she attempted to catch her breath, his mouth closed over hers.

Surprised, she didn't have the presence of mind to resist the kiss he gave her. His arms wrapped around her, he lifted her from the floor and pressed her body against his. Where there had been violence between them, there was now incredible tenderness. With almost painful gentleness, he ran a hand up her back. Lightly, he cradled her face between his hands and kissed her again.

She shivered and sighed, uncertain what to do in the face of this new line of attack. He broke the kiss and buried his face in the hollow of her throat. He took a deep breath in and made a soft noise of delight. She felt something within her grow soft and yielding at that sound. In a frantic effort to quiet her reeling mind, she pushed against his shoulders and jerked herself out of his light hold.

He looked at her and smiled. “Is that how we're going to do this?” he said. She scrambled back away from him and up to her feet. His smile widened into an almost obscene mockery of the tender one that was there heartbeats earlier. He crooked his finger at her and made a come hither gesture. Uncertain of what to do, she took up a defensive stance and watched him warily. He stood and started to circle her.

She moved to keep her eyes on him. “This time you're paying attention,” he chuckled, “Maybe this will be interesting after all.” Her eyes narrowed and then he left her no time for any other response. One hand feinted towards her face as he kicked at her feet. She stumbled back. Again, he swung towards her face. Thinking it another feint, she lowered her guard. When his hand connected, she saw stars.

Reeling, she stumbled away from him. Seizing the advantage, he pressed forward and forced her back several paces. As she slammed into the wall, her head bounced against the knotty pine paneling hard enough that she nearly bit her tongue. She forgot what he had taught her and failed to notice the opening he had left her, blindly shoving against his chest rather then ducking under his arm and escaping. He gripped her jaw and pressed her head against the wall at an uncomfortable angle.

She kicked at him and he slid his grip lower. Her eyes widened and she froze as he squeezed her throat. “Not paying attention again,” he sighed, sounding almost disappointed beneath the amusement in his voice, “Hmm... Now what do I do with you?” She started to bring her hand up to strike at his face and he squeezed again. He made a noise of disapproval and shook her slightly. “I've caught you fair and square, little mouse,” he said ominously.

Shivering beneath his hand, she couldn't help the startled squeak as he closed his free hand over her right breast. He grinned. “Mouse,” he said conversationally, “Yes, I think that's an excellent name for you.” She reached up and vainly attempted to pull his hand away from her throat. He simply reapplied the pressure of his earlier grip and she gave another small noise of shock. “Really?” he sighed, looking at her with mild disappointment, “You're surprised by that? I've got you by the throat. You should expect it, mouse.”

As her face began to flush, he looked at her mildly. Her eyes darted around in panic. In a burst of motion, she flailed. Her knee struck him hard in the groin and he let go of her, falling back a few paces. She darted around him and out into the center of the floor. With a snarl, he straightened and took a step towards her. She fell back a pace, again taking up a defensive position. “That,” he said in a husky growl, “was a real hit.”

As he circled her again, she watched him warily. “Come on,” he said in that hungry, feral tone, “Hit me, mouse.” She rushed forward and brought her elbow up towards his face. He swatted her down with a single open handed blow across the face. She lay on the floor, dazed as he stood over her. He didn't move as she pushed herself up and shook her head. “Get up,” he purred, “hit me.”

She kicked at him and he stepped back with a laugh. At his laughter, she glared at him. She made her way to her feet when he stepped forward. His hands closed roughly over her shoulders and he threw her to the ground again. She landed face first, too disoriented to break her fall. He dropped down into a crouch and took hold of her hair.

He pulled her head back as he put his face down near her ear. “You're not trying, little mouse,” he said in that sensual tone. A shudder went through her and he smiled. “Oh, I see,” he continued, pulling her hair harder and forcing her to arch her back, “You like this.” She whimpered and he laughed. In a sudden, forceful gesture, he whipped her head forward.

She turned her face just in time so that the side of her head struck the mat. She moved to push herself up onto her hands and knees when he pushed down between her shoulders and pinned her to the floor. He maneuvered himself so that he was sitting on her hips. She lay still beneath him, though he could feel her shivering.

He reached down and pulled the back of her shirt up. A broad hand moved smoothly beneath the light cotton. As he ran his hand up her spine, she shivered harder and rolled her eyes in pleasure at his light touch. “So, what do I do with you, mouse?” he sighed, dancing his fingertips over her back. He lifted his hand away from her skin and she arched her back up to feel his hand on her again.

He pushed her shirt up higher and looked down at her back. She looked back at him and trembled at his thoughtful expression. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim object. Confusion crossed her face and then horror as he whipped open the butterfly knife. He leaned forward and pulled the neck of the shirt up and away from her skin. He put the edge to the fabric. As he cut down the center of the shirt, the tip of the knife scored a fine line down her spine.

She gave an inarticulate groan. He opened the shirt like a book and looked down at her back. Bruises from their scuffling earlier had begun to form. A thin red line ran from the nape of her neck down to the waistband of her pants. He turned the knife over in his hands, considering his options. As he put the edge against her shoulder, she gasped. “What do you want?” he said, feeling the tension running through her body as she struggled with the urge to squirm.

“I... I don't know,” she said. He moved the knife so that the tip was pressing down on her, careful not to break the skin. He felt the tension in her hips and he smiled. He pressed down slightly harder and pricked her. She gave a yelp before shivering from head to toe. He twisted the knife,turning it where the tip had marked her. With a strangled groan, she dug her fingertips into the mat beneath them.

He lifted the knife away from her back and she whimpered in protest, despite her efforts not to. “Just admit it,” he said, “Admit what you want, and you'll get it.” She gave a soft sob of frustration, torn between what she wanted and what she thought she was supposed to want. He leaned forward, pressing himself against her.

His hand with the knife settled before her face as the other gripped her shoulder. She stared at the knife with an almost unholy yearning. His voice was low, rich, and enticing. “Just say it,” he said, knowing that she'd give in with just a bit more pressure. His lips brushed against her ear as he continued, “We both know what you want, what you need. Why are you resisting? You could have it right now. Right this moment, right here. I'm a generous man. I'd be happy to give it to you. Come on, little mouse, give in.”

She shivered beneath him, her eyes rolling as lustful visions flashed through her mind. He smiled at the softness that came into her expression. He could tell that she was close to just confessing her desire. He moved the knife so that the blade caught the light. As it flashed and winked at her, her breathing quickened. She stared at it, her lips slightly parted and a slow flush rising over her cheeks. He moved the knife slightly closer to her face.

He could feel her breath catch and the shiver of anticipation that passed through her. “What do you want, mouse?” he said. He moved his head slightly. As he took in a breath, he passed his face lightly up the column of her throat. He felt her squirm sensually beneath him and he smiled. He gave a sigh into her ear. “Well,” he said, “Are you going to say it or is this it?” Her eyes widened and he restrained the urge to chuckle in triumph.

All self-consciousness washed out of her face in the odd mix of panic and arousal that replaced it. “I will get up and nothing else will happen,” he explained. She looked at the knife and then back to him. Then he smiled, because in that moment he had taken away all the nebulous options and forced her to make her choice.

She swallowed and blushed. “I... I want to feel it,” she whispered. He turned the knife again, smiling at how her gaze was drawn inextricably back to it. She swallowed hard as he leaned down and put his face close to her ear.

“This?” he asked, holding up the knife. She nodded. “You want to feel this?” he said, cruel amusement creeping into his voice. “How do you want to feel it?” he asked. Her eyes closed as a small look of anguish touched her face when she realized that just admitting her desire was not going to get her what she wanted.

He put the blunt edge of the knife against her forearm. She gasped. Lightly, he ran it back and forth over her skin. “Like this?” he asked. She bit her lips as he pressed it down and scraped the back of her arm. “Or is it like that?” he said. She opened her mouth to reply when he turned the knife over.

The moment that the edge touched her skin, her eyes flew open and she looked surprised. With the precision of a surgeon's deftness, he caressed her with the sharpened edge of the knife. Her eyes rolled and she gave a groan of pleasure. He smiled and teased her arm, enjoying how she squirmed helplessly beneath him even as she struggled to remain still. He took the knife away from her arm and sat back.

She made a noise of protest that turned into an alarmed squeak as he gripped her hair and pulled her head back. With the same slow, patient gestures, he dragged the edge of the knife lightly against her throat. Small, animalistic whimpers escaped her as she shuddered. He flipped the knife over so that the blunt edge was against her throat. As he pressed it hard against her skin, she gave a throaty groan and shuddered.

Slowly, he dragged it over her shoulder before letting go of her hair. He turned the edge over again and dragged it down her shoulder blade. She gasped and stiffened. As he pressed down and cut into her back, she gave a small, almost keening cry. Beneath him, he could feel her body shudder with a second orgasm before he had finished his cut. Lightly, he cut another line into her shoulder, watching how her body seemed to vibrate between the tension of holding still and the force of successive orgasms.

She moaned, whimpered, sobbed, and wailed as he slowly scored marks into her back. Her hands opened and closed convulsively against the mat. Tears rolled down her face as she shook with her body's response to his harsh treatment. He smiled down at her as she wordlessly voiced her pleasure. He lifted the knife away from her back, watching as the thin lines beaded up with drops of blood. Shuddering at the sensation of the drops of blood oozing down her skin, she moaned helplessly.

He took a corner of her ruined shirt and cleaned his knife as she simply lay before him. He looked down at her face and noted her eyes were closed. He ran a light touch over her back. She didn't twitch but gave a low moan. Deciding that he'd wake her later, he closed the knife and put it in his pocket.

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