[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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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.]