the softer the skin/ well, the easier to bite/ she sharpens her teeth

[Henrietta Abbot]

Liam had been testing Henry's patience all day -- even more so than usual! They'd been training for hours, and he wasn't letting her get a single shot in. Either she'd lost her skills, or there was something else on her mind... Something about Liam Santos's inability to keep his shirt on during their training sessions, maybe? Or the way he shamelessly gloated when she couldn't counter his moves? Gods, she'd had enough! Desperate times call for desperate measures, Henry thought as she dropped her sword. She lifted her shirt slowly, casting it dramatically aside. As she suspected, Liam's arrogance did the rest of the work: assuming she was surrendering to him, his body loosened, his eyes hungry. Quickly, she darted around the back of him. 

Before she knew it, Henry was grinning at Liam, on the ground before her. The swift kick she had delivered to the back of his knees had felled him like a tree. Their usually stark height difference was reversed, Henry standing tall over him. She took his chin between her fingers and forced him to look her in the eyes. "Look at me, Santos," she demanded. "Remember this moment. I own you, don't I?" She slipped her thumb in between his slightly parted lips, forcing his legs further apart with the steel cap of her combat boot. "Don't I?" She repeated firmly, drawing her dagger from its sheath at her belt. With its blunt edge, she began tracing his jawline. It thrilled her to finally have him under her control, dominating his mind, body and spirit. She felt powerful, and couldn't resist holding the dagger to his throat. "Look at you now, princess," she whispered, falling into his lap and taking him into a passionate kiss. 

Now that she was at his level, the height difference only served to dominate Liam more. Was the short, slight girl in front of him truly the one in power here? Was he, descendant of the war God, really at her mercy? 

@ Liam Santos