Marre started to get up, but Perre snarled warningly at him and shoved a mug of... of... tar? Into my hands.
I sat up and took it.
"What the hell is that?" I muttered disgustedly, grimacing as the smell hit my nostrils, handing it back to him.
He grabbed it, sensing I would gladly let it spill rather than hold that steaming cup of burnt molasses another minute longer.
"Drink it," Perre barked out at me, shoving the mug towards me.
"No," I refused stubbornly, crossing my arms over my chest so he couldn't hand it back to me.
Perre growled, flashing his teeth warningly, and I gave it to him right back. I growled in response and gave him a flash of my teeth, getting in his face like he did mine. We were so close I could see the color of his eyes perfectly.
I noticed, distractedly, that his had flecks of gold in them, where Marre's had none.
We both jerked our heads when we heard a thump and a huge guffaw coming from over the arm of the couch.
Perre and I leaned over slightly, enough to see Marre on the floor laughing like an idiot, pointing at us.
"You should have seen yourselves," he gasped between laughs, "It was like watching Nona's terrier, Pudge, trying to take on an angry Old Earth Bear."
I just looked at him, offended at the reference of myself to the chubby yet loveable Pudge in this scenario.
The Bear and Perre comparison was very apt, but that’s beside the point, damn it!
I growled at Marre, ignoring the fact that Perre did it too.
"Oh, grow up!" I tossed out, throwing the socks I'd still yet to put on at Marre’s chuckling, pink face.
It was at that same time that Perre said, "You're worse than a woman."
I didn't ignore the slight to my gender, acting like it was a total accident when I went to settle back down and my hand accidentally whacked him in the testicles.
Hey! It could have happened, maybe, and I did get out of drinking the tar concoction he'd made for me.
Two birds, one stone. Heh. Heh.
A half hour later I was still humming with victory.
Chicks Rule! I cheered inwardly as Perre glared at me accusingly, now icing his booboos as we watched an old sci-fi vid disk Marre had put on for us to watch.
If the smile I was wearing had nothing to do with the movie and everything to do with besting the pink, hairless demon lord across the way, then all the better.
I snuggled into Marre’s embrace as we cuddled on the couch, sighing as one of his right hands rubbed my hip caressingly, the other running through my hair, playing with the silken strands.
His left hands were idle, one resting along the back of the couch, the other on the arm. I smiled even bigger as I let myself enjoy my victory.
If Perre is how I’m thinking he is, then it would probably be short lived, anyways. Might as well bask in the glow now, while I can.
I wiggled myself a little against Marre and he tapped my ass in reproach.
“Quit squirming, goddess, or I won’t be responsible for what I do to you,” Marre growled, nipping at my ear.
“None of that! She’s concussed!” Perre bellowed warningly at Marre.
Marre just snorted and settled back down, seeming amused by his brother’s antics.
I leaned my head on one of Marre’s arms, using it as a pillow, and let myself soak up this moment, trying to keep up with the really corny flick he'd put on to pass the time.
˜˙˜˙˜˙˜
"Wake up, Mags, wake up," a voice whispered in my ear, and I popped up, startled to hear someone talking to me in my apartment.
Marre smiled down at me and ran his hand caressingly from my cheek bone to my chin.
I yawned and laid my head back down.
He chuckled and tickled my face with the tips of his fingers.
I peeked up at him through the one eye I’d opened a slit and asked him gruffly, "Why'd you wake me up?"
"Just wanted to make sure you weren't really concussed. I worried about it after a while, and it wouldn't be totally unreasonable to wake you up, just in case," he explained, shrugging, like he hadn't just told me I won't be getting any shut eye tonight.
At that moment I was too tired to care or register exactly what he'd just said. I got the gist of what I deemed important, though- he’d woken me up from a sound sleep, just because.
Hmmm...
I pulled him down over me, kissing him sweetly, running my hands over his shoulders and back urgently.
He moaned into my mouth, and I pushed myself up against him, nipping his lips playfully.
I pulled back and smiled at the glazed look in his eyes, turning slightly to snuggle more into his warm embrace, giving him my side.
I fell back to sleep almost immediately, ignoring his huffs at my taunting teasing.
My last thought as I drifted off was 'ha ha, teach you to wake me up!'
I don't know when I’d discovered this saucier, teasing side of myself, but if I have any say, I like it and it’s here to stay!
Hot and cold
Marre
"Evil little minx!" I chuckled quietly at my red headed maiden's un-maidenly tease.
Get me all riled and ready to go, then fall back to sleep on me! I should wake her up properly and teach her what for!
She seems so tired, though...
I stared down at her, watching her chest rise and fall rhythmically with her deep, even breathing, the peaceful expression on her beautiful porcelain face, and I couldn't do it. Couldn't bring myself to wake her up.
Just yet...
"Don't be fooled, brother," Perre grunted from his seat in the recliner. He gestured towards Mags' sleeping form and scowled at her.
"It's all a trick. They always look like that when they're sleeping. It's all a ploy to suck you in," he explained, emphasizing his point with sucking sounds and everything.
Just as I started to chuckle quietly at Perre, happy to see him acting a little bit more like his old self, my cell went off, that specific ring tone letting me know it was work.
I checked the time on the clock and grimaced, realizing it must be an emergency for someone to be calling so late.
I got up and went to my room to dress and answer the call, already knowing they were going to need me.
Care and feeding of a heathen
Perre
Marre's cell phone went off and he grimaced, popping up to head to his room to answer it, the ring tone telling me it was work.
If they're calling him this late then it means someone fucked up and they need ‘Marre the Great’ to fix it. My brother is a wiz at anything and all electronic.
He programs and maintenances all the heavy duty computer junk- whatever all that mumbo jumbo technical stuff is really called- for all the big wig companies. If you want the best, you want Marre.
Poor sucker, I snickered, only slightly sympathetic towards his plight. He could be gone all night, I thought glancing at the sleeping heathen curled up, cute as a button, on the couch.
I shifted a little in my chair and grimaced as my left nut began to twinge a little, still a little sore from the well-aimed sucker punch it’d received earlier.
Little wench is mean!
I couldn’t help the half smile that curled up slightly at the corner of my mouth. Mean and sexy as hell when she’s pissed. Her eyes are like storm clouds when she’s riled.
Man, the look on her face earlier... the way her hair had looked too... all wild and untamed, flowing loosely around her face, just adding to the over-all effect.
My little heathen looked like an enraged goddess as she’d scorched me with that quelling glare.
I chuckled at the sarcastic remark I’d made to set her off. ‘Worse than a woman’. A wide grin spread across my face.
I didn’t really mean it, not completely...
I was only kidding. Kinda.
In the back of my mind some inner voice had been telling me, cautioning me, pleadingly advising me that what I’d been a
bout to do wasn’t the smartest thing ever, but I’d ignored the warning. I’d been eager to get a good reaction out of my tempting little princess.
And, man, did I get one...
But, gods! She didn't have to aim for the jewels!
"Hey, Perre," Marre said quietly as he came in dressed for work. Dress slacks and a long sleeved button up to assist the computer troubled masses.
"Huh?" I mumbled.
Eloquent, right? Heh.
"Can you keep an eye on Mags for me? I know she's probably fine, but..." he paused to crouch down by Mags and nuzzle her face with his.
Mags nuzzled him back in her sleep and woke up enough to return his good bye kiss.
I looked away, envious of how easy it was for Mags to be affectionate with Marre.
Jeez. I'm twelve all over again. Marre has an awesome toy and I want it too.
Except... I don't want to share her with him. I want her all to myself.
Every time I see them together I want to snatch her up and run, take her somewhere to have my evil way with her, keep her captive for as long as I please.
Mine, all alone. Just the two of us.
I don't even know her that well! This is crazy!
I shouldn't feel this way about someone who's pretty much a stranger to me, but I do.
I have this weird ache in my gut when I look at her with Marre and all the feelings she has for him are practically written across her forehead, plain enough for anyone to see.
I don’t like it.
"Hey, you okay?" Marre asked, suddenly concerned, popping me out of my musings.
"Yup, fine," I grunted, not looking at him.
"So, you will, then, right?" he asked again, and my mind blanked.
What were we talking about again?
"Will what?"
"Keep an eye on Mags, numbskull," he sighed, sounding annoyed.
I glimpsed at him long enough to catch him rolling his eyes at me.
Woo, touchy.
"Yeah, sure, whatever," I muttered, feigning interest in the magazine I was now pretending to nose through.
"Thanks, man, I owe you," Marre thanked me appreciatively, slapping me on the back as he started to leave.
He paused, walked back and kissed Mags one last time, giving me detailed instructions afterwards on the 'care and feeding of a heathen'.
Like I don't know how to take care of someone else!
Then he finally left, heading out the door.
I glanced at the clock and looked back at Mags, my body tingling in anticipation as I waited for the clock to chime the appropriate time, letting me know when she needed to be woken for her hourly head check.
Naturally, that wasn’t the reason for my excitement.
No, this was for an entirely different reason, I thought gleefully, rubbing my hands together maniacally.
That's when I plan to get even with her for the jewel knocking I took earlier.
I glanced at the clock as a plan began to form in my mind. Only a half hour to go and I get to wake up the little, foul mouthed princess to check her out, I mean, check her concussion.
I snickered quietly and made a mental list of the things I’d need to get together quickly- half hour would be here soon enough.
She'll probably want my head on a platter when all is said and done, but you won't hear any complaints from me.
That is, as long as all goes according to plan...
I rubbed my hands together again, chuckling quietly to myself. I headed into the kitchen to check whether we had what I’d need or not.
Sweet revenge!
Magenta
I wiggled my nose to get the tickle off of it, grunting and rolling over a little, trying to free myself from the hair that kept sweeping across my face.
It tickled again, and I used the back of my hand to wipe it away.
The lights in the room suddenly glared to life and I shoved my hands up to cover my face.
My palms slapped up to cup my face and something wet hit me, squishing noisily, wetly, into my poor, shocked self; whatever it was having been on my hands, and now, consequently, on my face.
I gasped and popped up, unable to see because of the goopy mess I could now feel running down my cheeks and chin.
I heard a weird ‘click click’ noise going off repeatedly, and I wiped at my eyes, trying to clear my vision.
Some of the gloop got into my mouth and I quickly tried to spit it out. I paused suddenly when I realized what it was.
I gasped dramatically, sucking in a quick, sharp breath.
That bastard!
Perre!
He’d doused my hands with fluffy whip!
I grimaced and wiped my hands on my blanket, sacrificing it to get the sticky, sugary fluff off of me.
“What’s the matter, princess?” Perre snickered, the clicking noise still going off a mile a minute.
Ooooh, I’m going to kill him!
But first...
I wiped my hands calmly on the blanket one last time, using the fact that some of the whipped cream was in my eyes and currently stinging the shit out of them to let the water works fly.
Perre’s expression suddenly turned from triumphant to horrified as I acted like I was mortified and ran into his bathroom, slamming the door hard and locking it behind me.
I grinned as I turned on the water and splashed it onto my face, cupping my hand over my mouth to stifle my laughter when a tentative knock came from the other end of the door.
“Mags?” came Perre’s voice softly through the door.
I didn’t answer.
A couple of uncomfortable throat clearings on his end and then, “Princess? Please open the door...”
I could barely hear him over the water, but I enjoyed the bits I could hear, picturing him squirming awkwardly on the other side.
Mess with me, will he? I thought as I rummaged quietly through his things, the water still running to help mask the noise I was making.
Let’s see how Perre likes little surprises!
I smiled as I unscrewed the cap on his mouth wash, dumping it out down the drain in the sink, contemplating what I should replace it with.
I squeezed all of his tooth paste into his body wash bottle, replacing some of the used tooth paste with his skin conditioner.
I kept looking around for more things to do when two things suddenly caught my attention.
In the far back of the sink cabinet was a lady’s pink shaving razor and a bottle of shaving cream.
The pink, girly kind.
Did Perre have a lady friend?
I squashed down the insane urge I had to maim the unknown female.
You like Marre, remember, Mags?
Perre is just... business. This is just war! I told myself vehemently. Suck it up, soldier! This is no time for girlish fancies!
This is go time! I will not be out done by an over bearing demon lord!
I eyed the shaving cream again and picked it up, clutching it in my hands.
Likes fluff, does he? I grinned, imagining all the ways this could go.
˜˙˜˙˜˙˜
It took around two hours, but Perre finally stopped asking me to open the door and his soft snore drifted to my ears from the other side.
I opened it slowly and quietly tip toed my way in front of him.
Carefully aiming the shaving cream at him, I let it fly, spraying his head, neck and chest, courteous enough to make sure it didn’t get in his eyes.
“Wha... wha... gah! What the hell is this shit?!” Perre bellowed, popping up suddenly.
I took off for the kitchen and ran to the fridge, arming myself with anything I could get my hands on.
Perre ran in chasing after me, covered in shaving cream.
I giggled as pink foam dripped off of him in a frothy mess and he glared at me.
“You know you’re going to pay for this,” he growled, gesturing at himself, a glop of shaving cream flying off and plopping all the way onto the couch as he waved his hand aro
und.
“You so sure about that, demon lord?” I snickered, pulling the chocolate syrup out in front of me like a weapon.
“Hey! Hey now, be careful with that, baby heathen! Let’s just talk about this, huh?” He cajoled, backing up into the kitchen.
I recognized his tactic for what it was and took aim, hitting him square in the chest.
His tone may have strived for pleading, but his eyes screamed I’m going to get you back for that, woman.
So, like any sane, completely rational, civil adult, I fired off that chocolate sauce and let it rip.
What’s that? Who’s kickin’ butt and taking names?
Oh, yeah! Me, baby! Ha ha!
He growled and pulled off his shirt, tossing it into the kitchen sink as he ran to the fridge and grabbed up the left over condiments I’d left behind- only because I had no more room for them.
“Hey, princess,” he grinned as he stalked towards me, the waist band of his pajama pants looking just like mine, stuffed to the gills with squirt bottles.
We probably looked like condiment super hero to condiment nemesis. Facing off like two really bad actors with terrible dialogue in some horrible, B rated action flick.
‘Now, complete with utility belts!’
“Yes, pain in my Perrier?” I called out sweetly, chocolate syrup aimed, locked and loaded, and ready for bear.
My posture was slightly crouched as I waited for him to make his next move.
“Can you believe it?” he asked, using the same sweet, sugar-up-your-butt tone as I had, his hands now hidden behind his back.
When did he do that?
“Believe what?” I eyed him warily, a little more than confused.
He jumped up on the coffee table, the wood creaking under his massive weight, pulled out a squeeze bottle from behind his back and squeezed the contents all over my head.
I screamed as the icy cold goo wetly plopped onto my head, running down in a greasy, grimy mess.
“Can you believe it’s not butter?” he burst out, guffawing at me.
I punched him in the balls and howled out in pain as my hand hit a hard, plastic protective shell.
On Her Axis Page 8
