Troublemaer

"I'm gonna drink this pineapple juice."

Steve glanced up from his book at his sister's red-haired best friend, Ashly. "That wouldn't be wise."

She smirked as she put her free hand on her cocked hip. "And why is that?"

He returned his attention to the novel. "Because it is mine, and I'll spank you if you do."

"You shouldn't threaten me with a good time."

He peered over the pages, raised his left eyebrow and dropped his gaze to the text.

She flopped on the couch behind where he sat on the floor.

When he felt her hand running through his shoulder-length hair, he shut his book and set it on his lap. "Why are you harassing me and not Elizabeth?"

"She's busy with Thomas."

"Okay, that explains why you're not bothering her, but not why you're bothering me."

Ashly lightly scratched his scalp, like one would a cat. "Am I really bothering you?"

Releasing a sigh, he leaned into her touch. "No, not really." He let the book slip to his lap as his eyes slid closed. "This is rather soothing if I'm honest."

"The best way to make a Leo purr," she said with a smile.

"Second best." The correction was automatic.

"Oh?"

"Yeah." He smiled when her hands moved to his shoulders. "Maybe if you're good, I may tell you the best way when you grow up."

She lightly flicked his ear. "Bitch, I'm older than you, remember?"

"Bitch?" He chuckled. "Mister."

"What?"

"Mister Bitch. Be polite if you're going to attempt to insult me."

"I'm gonna bite you."

He glanced over his shoulder with a lopsided grin. "If you bite me, I'm going to fuck you."

She pushed away from him as she gasped. "How dare -?"

"Very easily."

She tilted her head towards him as the words came at a deep rumble. She shook her head when he moved up on the couch slowly, like a stalking lion.

"Oh no. You don't -" She slid down onto the cushions as he moved above her.

"Don't what?"

She balled his black shirt in her fists as she breathed her answer. "You don't make promises you don't intend to keep, Mister."

"Hmmm."

His hard chest vibrated under her hands with the sound.

"Who says I don't intend to keep my word?"

"Hey, Steve!"

His sister's call was a shout in the middle of a sermon.

"What?"

"Whatchu got all that bass in your voice for?"

He popped his head up, locking his glare on the interloper.

"Oooooh. I see." Elizabeth walked over and tossed a bag of laundry on them. "No trying to fuck my best friend on my couch, yo!"

Ashly sat up, pawing the clothes off her. "We're not."

"No thanks to her," Steve muttered.

She threw a towel at his face. "Shut up. We were not."

He surged to his feet. "Hey, Lizard, haven't you been wanting this couch in your room?"

"You know I have. It's only been about a month."

He tossed the fresh clothes haphazardly into the laundry bag.

"Fair point. How about I take it up now?"

"Huh?" Elizabeth watched as he pulled Ashly to her feet and then picked the couch up with apparent ease. "Um..."

Steve paused in the process of shifting it above his right shoulder. "What?"

Thomas came bouncing down the stairs. "Hey, you need a hand with that?"

"Nah. I got it." Steve glanced back to his sister. "You were going to say something?"

She shook her head. "I forgot what it was."

He chuckled and carefully started up the stairs with the couch.

###

A push to the back of his head pulled Steve out of his book. The scent of jasmine and vanilla told him Ashly had returned. He slowly turned his gaze enough to catch a flash of a red shirt and a blue-ish skirt.

"What do you want, wench?"

"'Wench?'" A firmer push came this time. "I'll show you a 'wench.'"

"Excellent. Show me a proper one and grab me a beer from the fridge beside you."

The creak of the mini refrigerator's door caused him to smirk.

'Who knew she could be so -'

Icy coldness raced down the back of his neck where she'd laid the bottle to the middle of his back.

"Fucking hell!" He recoiled from the chill and spun to face her, almost falling on his face as he did so.

"How was that, Mr. Man?"

"You realize this is war, don't you?"

She shook her head. "No, it's not. I won, fair and square."

"Sure of that, are you?"

A nod of her head. "I am."

He cocked his head to the side. "And how can you be so certain?"

"I'll go downstairs and spend time with Beth, instead of staying up here with you."

Steve turned away and powered up his PlayStation 4 and tv. "What makes you think that would be a deterrent to me?" He sat on the floor with his back against the couch which bounced as she flopped on it. Her arms wrapped around his neck from behind.

"Because you're starting up Resident Evil 2 for me."

The way she whispered those words in his ear gave him chills. He tried to ignore the sensation as the opening movie started. He largely succeeded when the male protagonist showed up, but when the female one made her appearance on her motorcycle, Ashly's finger tracing the outside of his ear made him flinch away.

"Come on, I'm trying to pay attention to this."

She gave a low chuckle. "You've seen it many times before." She nibbled on his earlobe.

Again, he flinched away. "Behave, or I will spank you."

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I. Can't. Keep?" He carefully set the controller on the floor near his knee as he faced her.

"Nope." She quickly reached down and pressed the start button. "It's loaded! Pay attention."

"Brat."

"You love it."

"Hmmph."

He focused on the game and the two become engrossed in the haunting atmosphere of the remake. As he explored the seemingly abandoned police station, Ashly would comment on the changes from the PlayStation original.

"There is where we saw the Licker for the first time. Remember?"

"Yeah. Interesting there's nothing here this time."

"This trip down, at least. Who knows what'll be here next time?"

Several more minutes and a couple of in-game rooms later, he found himself in the middle of a boss battle. As it got really tense, Steve would quickly wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans before returning them to the controller.

Ashley reached down and pushed the controller from his hands.

"What the fu -?"

In a flash, he had the Dual Shock 4 in his hands, but too late: his character was dead.

"Why the hell would you do that?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

He shook his head. "Nuh-uh. You're not getting away with a copout like that."

He lunged to his feet before she could crawl away, and pulled her over his knees.

"No, no, no!" She tried to push away but wasn't able.

Wap!

His hand cracked down on her butt.

"Ow! Fucker!"

Wap!

Again, he swatted her butt.

"Wait!"

The volume of her voice got him to pause.

"What?"

She reached down and pulled up her denim skirt, revealing her light blue bikini briefs. "If you're gonna spank me, at least do it right."

"Only this far, and no further, huh?"

She turned her head and peered up at him. "What do you mean?"

"If this is good," He paused to rub her cotton covered butt, and pulled her panties to her knees, exposing her bare cheeks to the cool air of the fan. "This should be even better."

She gasped. The sudden nakedness made her shift on his lap as she nodded. "Yes."

His palm skimmed over her skin, sending shivers through her. As his hand traveled over her butt, her legs parted a bit, giving him greater access to her. He trailed his fingers down the back of her legs and then back up. His index finger skipped along, grazing her flesh, not quite touching with the entire finger.

She quivered under his touch, yet she didn't make a sound other than light moans. Even when he approached the heat of her sex close enough to experience her dampness. He smiled, knowing she was wrapped up in the sensations he was eliciting.

Wap!

Her head jumped up when he spanked her, and she arched her back, raising her butt as she let out an, "Ooh!"

His palm caressed the sting away, and he resumed his feathery exploration of her lower body. His fingertips traced the edges of her labia before sliding over the area where they met in a sideways smile. She moaned as his finger, moistened by her wetness slipped between her lips and down to her clit. Her hips undulated against his knee as her breathing grew sharper.

"Hey, Ashly!" Elizabeth's voice thundered up the stairs, shattering their moment. "I'm going shopping. Are you coming?"

Ashly pushed off his lap and straightened her clothes. "I almost did." Her words were for him alone.

"Why not make it, 'I certainly did. Many times?'"

She cupped his bewhiskered cheek. "I have to go. She's my best friend."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

As she hurried down the steps, his response chased her.

###

A week later, a knock sounded at the door. Steve saved his manuscript and closed his laptop as he checked the clock. One in the afternoon. Damn. The day had slipped by him again. Another knock came, a little louder.

"Holjer horses," he yelled.

Yet another knock sounded. He yanked the door open to see Ashley standing there with a big grin on her face.

"I know you heard me holler."

Still smiling, she shook her head. "No, what did you holler?"

"I said for you to hold on, I was coming to answer the door."

Her head tilted to the side. "Really?"

"Yes." He narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

She shrugged and reached past him to knock on the door again. He sucked his teeth as she bit back a laugh.

"What do you want, PITA?"

"Pita? As in the bread?"

"As in Pain In The Ass."

"I'd use lots of lube." She reached up and tweaked his cheek as she spoke.

He closed his eyes and placed his hand on her throat. She moaned and pressed her body against his.

"Choke me good, baby."

Her words were breathless, even though there was no pressure in his hand.

He left his hand slide down her body before dropping to his side. "Why are you like this?"

She gripped his shirt in both hands as she stood on her toes and bit his chin. "Because I want to fuck the shit out of you, and you're taking forever." She walked into the house and turned into the kitchen. "Maybe if I push your dom buttons hard enough, you'll hurry up and take me."

He followed her and caught her pouring a glass of merlot. "That's Elizabeth's."

"She doesn't mind. We take turns buying and sharing our wine." She put the bottle back in the fridge. "Interesting subject change."

"What makes you think I'm a dom?"

"You accurately called me a brat, and you pulled my panties down when I said you had to spank me right." She took a drink of the red liquid before setting the glass on the counter. She stepped up and once more pressed her body against his. "Doms always push for more."

He stepped back. "So do horny guys."

"Mmm-hmm." She stalked forward in response to each backward step of his. She paused. "Are you trying to refuse me?"

His hand flashed out and lightly caught her shirt collar, tugging her forward again. "No. I'm leading by retreating."

"Mmm." She bit her lip. "So, you're admitting that you're a dom?"

"I admit nothing of the sort."

"You're leading, though."

"By retreating."

She narrowed her eyes and caught his hands in hers. He stopped moving. Waiting. Watching.

"Why?"

"Depends. Why're you pursuing? I thought you were a brat?"

"I'm a switch."

"What do you mean?"

"Sometimes I'm submissive, and sometimes I'm dominant."

"Hmm."

"What?"

He tugged her into the tv room. "I'm the lead." He sat in a recliner and pulled her onto his lap. "I've not yet been anyone's sub."

She went from curled up in his arms to sitting up and looking deep into his eyes. "You wanna be mine?"

He chuckled. "I'm not sure that could work."

"Why not? I'd be safe."

"I have no doubt." He shifted so her butt wasn't directly on his crotch. "But I've been told my personality is better suited to being a dom than a sub. I don't know if I could let go for very long."

"Sounds like trust hasn't been built up enough."

He shook his head. "It's not that." His hand came up her back and slid back down, over and over. "At a certain point, I simply take over."

"That's merely foreplay. A session goes deeper than that, often without intercourse at all. It's a complete baring of yourself to your dom, or sub, on a level, unlike mere sex. It's the ultimate in intimacy. Why do you think aftercare is so important?"

"To reconnect after something so emotional?" He shrugged.

She stood up. "Then why the hell were you engaging in BDSM?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you know how reckless and dangerous that is?"

Resting his elbows on the arms of the recliner, he laced his fingers together and watched her. The way her red hair was haloed by the ceiling light. The way her shorts hugged her hips and wrapped around her pale thighs.

After several fraught minutes of silence, he answered her. "You made that assumption on your own. I never claimed to have."

"What else am I supposed to think, based on what you've told me?"

"That I've been telling you the truth."

"I

do

think you're telling me the truth. Why do you think I'm pissed?"

He shrugged. "I have no clue. All I can surmise is you've reached an erroneous conclusion based on what you've extrapolated, instead of what I've said."

"What's with the gross verbosity, instead of the simple conversation we'd been having?"

He dropped his hands to his lap. "Sorry. I tend to drop into that when I'm irritated by what seems like an unprovoked attack."

She pulled the ottoman out and sat on it, facing him. "I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions." She placed her hands on his knees. "It sounded like you had engaged in BDSM but not knowing anything about it."

He shook his head. "I haven't. I've been told what kind of personality I possess in regards to that, but haven't actually done more than engage in light bondage."

"What do you mean by 'light bondage?'"

"Velvet cuffs, tying hands and legs to bedposts, blindfolds."

"Oh. Vanilla stuff."

"Are you denigrating my sexual experience?" He leaned forward as he asked.

She shook her head. "Oh, no, I'm sor -" His hand on her mouth gently silenced her.

"I'm teasing, Little One." He dropped his hand to her forearm and tugged her up and back to his lap.

She kicked off her gray sneakers and pulled her white socked feet up and placed them beside his left leg. "I'm a five foot, six-inch woman, but you make me feel so small and helpless doing this." His body quaked under her as he laughed. "Are you laughing at me?"

"At? Never. Because of? Yes." He rested his chin on top of her head. "I've seen you kick ass in the Octagon. I wouldn't dare laugh at you."

"Now you're making fun of me. I'd never do anything to intentionally hurt you."

"Not making fun. Teasing."

She moved her head back and kissed the underside of his jaw. "Good."

"You know what would be good right now?"

"To be naked under you, sweating my ass off as you fucked me dizzy."

"That would be amazing, but we gotta work back to that."

"Alright. So, what would be good right now?"

"Music." He shifted to his right and pulled his phone from his pocket. "What do you want to hear?"

"On your phone?"

"Spotify. It'll start my stereo."

"Oh. How about Heilung?"

"Sure. Any track in particular?"

"Krigsgaldr?"

Seconds later, the sound of a bone horn filled the air.

"This is so relaxing."

"It is." He nodded. "I think it's also really awesome how they pieced this together from fragments of ancient writings."

"Hey, Steve."

"Yes?"

"What was your weirdest sexual experience?"

"As in weirdest request, or what?"

"Weirdest all around."

"Well, I had one girlfriend who had a dd/lg kink."

"What's d-d-l-g?"

"Dominant Daddy, Little Girl."

"So, explain." Then, she jumped up, "Hold on."

He watched her scamper into the kitchen again. When she returned, she had the bottle of wine, her glass and a bottle of beer for him. She passed him the beer, set the wine bottle on the end table beside the lamp, and returned to his lap.

"Sorry. Where were you again?"

"I was about to tell you a bit about the dd/lg kink. But first, hold this for me, please." After she gripped the barrel of the bottle, he moved his hand to the rough-edged twist top. "Now turn it."

"Won't it hurt your hand?"

"Aww. Are you worried for me?" At her nod, he smiled. "No need to worry, Little One. I usually twist the tops off."

Her eyebrows went up. "Usually?"

"Yeah, because this time you're twisting the top off. I'm just holding the lid."

"Fair point." As he nodded, she twisted the bottle around. She had to fight it a little and ended up using both hands, but his hand was rock steady.

The hiss of escaping carbon hit at the same time the chorus of the song.

"That's just great timing."

She grinned as she nodded. "Oh, yes."

"So, are you sure you wanna know what dd/lg is? You may end up squicked out over it." He took a deep drink of the cold beer. "I was." Another drink. "Am."

"You okay?"

A shake of his head. "Kinda, sorta, not really."

"Flashbacks?"

"To the definition."

"How bad is it?"

"It's a type of age play."

"What is that?"

"It's where one of the adults behaves as if they are a child again. Usually."

She got up and moved back to the ottoman. Pulling her feet up, she hugged her knees. "What do you mean, 'usually?'"

"Some just wanna call their partner 'mommy,' or 'daddy.' And act like a brat so they get spanked.'"

"Incest roleplay with spanking?" She raised her glass to her lips and didn't bring it back down until it was empty. "That is squicky. Why the hell would you agree to do it?"

"She was my girlfriend." He shrugged. "I try to please my partners in bed."

"Yeah, but you don't have to engage in kinks to please your bedmate. There are other ways, right?"

"Turns out, it wasn't a kink, but a fetish." He drained his beer and rose from his recliner. He walked to the bookcase near his stereo and pulled down a leatherbound book. "That's when we broke up." He set the tome down and opened it.

"What book is that? The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders?"

He laughed. "Even better." He lifted a glass bottle of a dark gold liquid. "Glenfiddich. 21 years old. Simply one of the finest single malts I've ever had."

"Why is it in a book?"

He passed it over to her. "It's not a book."

He was right: It was a light box that merely looked like a book. But,

"The leather is real, though."

"Yeah, and my work on it is pretty rough."

She flipped it over and around, unable to see what he meant. "It looks fine to me."

"Thank you."

He poured two fingers of the whiskey into a glass and recapped the bottle. He pushed the glass against a lever on the door of the refrigerator and icy water poured in, over the scotch. He then returned to his seat.

"Isn't adding water sacrilege?"

"For some, but it helps to open up its flavors and aromas." He crossed his right leg over his left knee. "So, back to the previous subject: How about you? What's the weirdest situation have you ever found yourself in?"

"Just situation? Not necessarily sexual?"

"If you want to be fair."

"Why would I want to be fair, though?" She giggled.

"You tell me."

"Well, I'm not sure how weird it is, per se, but one of my past partners was a huge fan of knife play."

Steve cocked his head to the side. "Knife play? What's that?"

"Knife play is sometimes, but not always, a form of fear play. The 'victim' in some cases, is shown a sharp implement, and then blindfolded, and a blunt knife used on their body."