[He couldn't help but swing another punch as he growled the words, aiming for Dodger's stomach to make him double over.
Lips curled in an angry snarl at Dodger's ridiculous goading, he grabs the front of his shirt with both hands, grabbing as much fabric as possible, and then proceeded to drag him towards the front door. If Dodger wasn't going to leave willingly, then Ragnar was going to throw him out. Even if what he really wanted to do was grab his axe.]
No one is a person, we just want to think we are. Everyone is property unless they own someone else, that's why he lives under your roof.
[And then he's being dragged and no, that isn't acceptable. With a growl of frustration he teleports, giving Ragnar that now-familiar feeling of the world exploding and reforming. He's brought them back to their original spot in the kitchen, except now Dodger has managed to move them so that Ragnar's back hits the floor, and Dodger lands on top of him. With the skin on his hands burning hot he grabs Ragnar's hands and shoves them off, pinning his wrists to the floor.]
You know I hate using force on you... It's hot, pretending you can push me around. [His eyes narrow, and his temperature is high enough now that his breath is visible even in the mild air.] If I have to break your hands to get a fucking word in, I will. But I don't want to. You are fucking beautiful, it would be a damn shame to fuck that up.
[He's interrupted mid-sentence as he suddenly finds himself back in the kitchen, feeling completely disoriented by the teleport regardless of how many times Dodger has done it to him. It takes half a moment for the daze to wear off as he ends up thrown down onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling.
And then pain seared through his wrists and up his arms.
He grit his teeth, the muscles on his jaw flexing, but he made no noise, even as the smell of his own burnt skin filled the air. His hands trembled slightly, a reaction to the pain that he couldn't control.
The burning rage in the glare Dodger received in return practically rivalled the heat coming off his body.]
You have been speaking. [Ragnar pointed out, voice hoarse as he fought to keep his body under control.] It does not matter what you do because I have no desire to listen to what you have to say. So kill me or get out.
[Dodger leans down, until their breath is mingling and Ragnar will be able to smell the mix of ash and bourbon on Dodger's tongue. His forked tongue flicks out like a snake's, darting across Ragnar's lips before he gives him a cold smile.]
I loved you. From the moment we met. And I still love you. Seems like people fall in love with you wherever you turn, huh...
[His eyes scan over Ragnar's face, sizing him up, judging the hatred and holding himself back from the sheer excitement that expression gives him. He really is trying to control himself, trying to get what he wants to say across, but every inch of him is shivering with desire to let Ragnar go and keep egging him on.]
I want to regain your favor. That's what this is about. And I'm not leaving until you give me a chance.
[Ragnar's glare only managed to grow more murderous as Dodger leaned closer, grimacing at the flicker of Dodger's serpentine tongue.
He rolled his eyes dramatically at Dodger's 'confession'.]
It was sex. [He scoffed suddenly, apparently feeling a little suicidal, poking and prodding an already worked up man.] And it was barely that.
[Again Ragnar half coughed in something close to a bitter laugh.] Dodger. I do not care what you want. You came into my home, which I told you never to do. You blame me for hurting Athelstan. And you threaten the people I love. Really love. Whatever chances you might have had are gone. And it is your own doing.
I told you that you could've prevented it. I didn't blame you.
[He lets out a huff of frustration, reigning himself in enough that he at least stops burning Ragnar's wrists. He'll definitely have left marks by now, though.]
You helped the one man that's caused real problems for me torture me for sport. And I don't blame you for that, either. Just business, right? [He shifts a bit, properly positioning himself to straddle Ragnar's lap. It's almost a mockery of how they tend to lay in bed, now.] I'm not threatening you. I'm telling you exactly how to keep me from hurting anyone else that you care about. I don't care if you love me, or like me, or even want me alive, I just want you to keep me around. Give me a reason to live, or be the one to kill me.
[He forced his exhale to remain steady as Dodger pulled his hands away from his now raw and blistered wrists. The air on them almost felt worse then when he'd been holding them.]
Wrong again. I asked him to help me. And I do not regret it at all. You deserved it.
I only regret that we did not kill you.
[Ragnar once again rolled his eyes at Dodger's request.] Why would I do that? Why would I do anything for you? I do not want you around at all.
[His fist connects with the floor beside Ragnar's head, and the wood buckles and cracks. The smoke and mirrors are gone, his attempts to rationalize himself are gone, and the truth is starting to become abundantly clear - Dodger is a teenager at heart, barely more than a tall child, who is terrified in the face of losing another potential caretaker.]
I was perfect for you! I was good! I could have gotten you killed when you did that to me and I made sure you were safe! I've done nothing but make you happy! And I've let you punish me plenty for shit I didn't even know I was doing, so why should I feel sorry for it?
[Ragnar didn't flinch as Dodger slammed his fist down beside his head, glaring. Dodger's reactions were only making it easier for Ragnar to cut ties with him. Where Dodger had seen some kind of potential caretaker? Role model? New master? Ragnar had seen acquaintances with benefits that had been edging towards friends with benefits.
Ragnar opened his mouth to argue, but paused and then snorted softly in bitter laughter.]
Of course, you do not feel sorry. Why would you? The only person you ever think about is yourself. [The words echoed the ones Ivar had said to Ragnar a little more closely than he was comfortable with, but that was an entirely different set of issues than the one he needed to focus on at present.]
Leave already. I want nothing to do with a person like you. Nothing.
[He's shaking slightly from the sheer stress of being told no, and flames flicker over his skin as he leans closer to him.]
This isn't over, believe me. I'll earn you back. [A scorching hand grips Ragnar's jaw and forces him still to take a soft kiss.] You don't want me as an enemy, Ragnar.
[He stands up then... and conjures a fireball in his hand, deftly tossing it to leave a huge and obvious scorch-mark all across the kitchen wall behind the counter, a three-foot-thick line of black to mark that he'd been there. And with that, he bursts into sparks that flow through the wall and disappear.]
[In stark contrast, Ragnar is downright frosty, a cold calm glaring daggers through Dodger.]
You are doing a very poor job so far. [He practically spat the words. Before he could say anything else Dodger's burning hand was on him again sending searing, burning pain through his jaw. He tried to wrench away, taking a swing at Dodger as he did, not caring at all if he burned more of his hand if the punch connected.
Half a second after Dodger stood up, Ragnar rolled over and forced himself to his feet as quickly as he could, reaching for the closest kitchen knife he could. Sadly, he ended up hurling the blade at a burst of smoke and sparks with a frustrated snarl.]
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[He couldn't help but swing another punch as he growled the words, aiming for Dodger's stomach to make him double over.
Lips curled in an angry snarl at Dodger's ridiculous goading, he grabs the front of his shirt with both hands, grabbing as much fabric as possible, and then proceeded to drag him towards the front door. If Dodger wasn't going to leave willingly, then Ragnar was going to throw him out. Even if what he really wanted to do was grab his axe.]
no subject
[And then he's being dragged and no, that isn't acceptable. With a growl of frustration he teleports, giving Ragnar that now-familiar feeling of the world exploding and reforming. He's brought them back to their original spot in the kitchen, except now Dodger has managed to move them so that Ragnar's back hits the floor, and Dodger lands on top of him. With the skin on his hands burning hot he grabs Ragnar's hands and shoves them off, pinning his wrists to the floor.]
You know I hate using force on you... It's hot, pretending you can push me around. [His eyes narrow, and his temperature is high enough now that his breath is visible even in the mild air.] If I have to break your hands to get a fucking word in, I will. But I don't want to. You are fucking beautiful, it would be a damn shame to fuck that up.
no subject
[He's interrupted mid-sentence as he suddenly finds himself back in the kitchen, feeling completely disoriented by the teleport regardless of how many times Dodger has done it to him. It takes half a moment for the daze to wear off as he ends up thrown down onto his back, blinking up at the ceiling.
And then pain seared through his wrists and up his arms.
He grit his teeth, the muscles on his jaw flexing, but he made no noise, even as the smell of his own burnt skin filled the air. His hands trembled slightly, a reaction to the pain that he couldn't control.
The burning rage in the glare Dodger received in return practically rivalled the heat coming off his body.]
You have been speaking. [Ragnar pointed out, voice hoarse as he fought to keep his body under control.] It does not matter what you do because I have no desire to listen to what you have to say. So kill me or get out.
no subject
I loved you. From the moment we met. And I still love you. Seems like people fall in love with you wherever you turn, huh...
[His eyes scan over Ragnar's face, sizing him up, judging the hatred and holding himself back from the sheer excitement that expression gives him. He really is trying to control himself, trying to get what he wants to say across, but every inch of him is shivering with desire to let Ragnar go and keep egging him on.]
I want to regain your favor. That's what this is about. And I'm not leaving until you give me a chance.
no subject
He rolled his eyes dramatically at Dodger's 'confession'.]
It was sex. [He scoffed suddenly, apparently feeling a little suicidal, poking and prodding an already worked up man.] And it was barely that.
[Again Ragnar half coughed in something close to a bitter laugh.] Dodger. I do not care what you want. You came into my home, which I told you never to do. You blame me for hurting Athelstan. And you threaten the people I love. Really love. Whatever chances you might have had are gone. And it is your own doing.
no subject
[He lets out a huff of frustration, reigning himself in enough that he at least stops burning Ragnar's wrists. He'll definitely have left marks by now, though.]
You helped the one man that's caused real problems for me torture me for sport. And I don't blame you for that, either. Just business, right? [He shifts a bit, properly positioning himself to straddle Ragnar's lap. It's almost a mockery of how they tend to lay in bed, now.] I'm not threatening you. I'm telling you exactly how to keep me from hurting anyone else that you care about. I don't care if you love me, or like me, or even want me alive, I just want you to keep me around. Give me a reason to live, or be the one to kill me.
no subject
Wrong again. I asked him to help me. And I do not regret it at all. You deserved it.
I only regret that we did not kill you.
[Ragnar once again rolled his eyes at Dodger's request.] Why would I do that? Why would I do anything for you? I do not want you around at all.
Consequences, Dodger.
Now, leave. And stay away from my family.
no subject
[His fist connects with the floor beside Ragnar's head, and the wood buckles and cracks. The smoke and mirrors are gone, his attempts to rationalize himself are gone, and the truth is starting to become abundantly clear - Dodger is a teenager at heart, barely more than a tall child, who is terrified in the face of losing another potential caretaker.]
I was perfect for you! I was good! I could have gotten you killed when you did that to me and I made sure you were safe! I've done nothing but make you happy! And I've let you punish me plenty for shit I didn't even know I was doing, so why should I feel sorry for it?
no subject
Ragnar opened his mouth to argue, but paused and then snorted softly in bitter laughter.]
Of course, you do not feel sorry. Why would you? The only person you ever think about is yourself. [The words echoed the ones Ivar had said to Ragnar a little more closely than he was comfortable with, but that was an entirely different set of issues than the one he needed to focus on at present.]
Leave already. I want nothing to do with a person like you. Nothing.
no subject
This isn't over, believe me. I'll earn you back. [A scorching hand grips Ragnar's jaw and forces him still to take a soft kiss.] You don't want me as an enemy, Ragnar.
[He stands up then... and conjures a fireball in his hand, deftly tossing it to leave a huge and obvious scorch-mark all across the kitchen wall behind the counter, a three-foot-thick line of black to mark that he'd been there. And with that, he bursts into sparks that flow through the wall and disappear.]
no subject
You are doing a very poor job so far. [He practically spat the words. Before he could say anything else Dodger's burning hand was on him again sending searing, burning pain through his jaw. He tried to wrench away, taking a swing at Dodger as he did, not caring at all if he burned more of his hand if the punch connected.
Half a second after Dodger stood up, Ragnar rolled over and forced himself to his feet as quickly as he could, reaching for the closest kitchen knife he could. Sadly, he ended up hurling the blade at a burst of smoke and sparks with a frustrated snarl.]