vecna | ☣️ midwestern mayhem inbox.

[It IS satisfying. He actually breathes out a note of appreciation which likely loses itself in her growl.]

I think I like doing this.

[Is that better, then? He smooths his hand over where his palm had just struck, a soothing motion which could possibly belie another spanking inbound. The tease of one.]

But why?

[She knows what the real him is like. She should know why.]

Because you look beautiful, on display like this, taking a punishment. Held down with no other choice but to do so.

[But, a not-so-secondary reason-]

And I do think you like it. Letting me take control every once in a while.

[ "taking a punishment"

this is suddenly not enjoyable anymore. her chest gets a hard lump in it, and her throat, too, and her tail falls limp like a wounded animal's. real shame. real discomfort like a needle in her throat. ]

I don't want punishment. Henry, stop. Now.

[The way she deflates is all too obvious, especially so keyed into her body language that he is.

Ah, disappointment.

But of course he releases her.]

[ she curls on her side, almost instantly. it's a terrible feeling after such extended pleasure. almost like being hollowed out. ]

I hate. Being demeaned.

[Oh. The way she turns away makes him wonder if he really did cross a line he wasn’t even aware of.

The mattress shifts. Henry leans in, close, not quite over.]

Sprezzatura… You know I’d never make you feel that way to actually cause you pain. But I’m sorry. I’m still trying to… figure out what you really like.

Not punishment.

All right. Not punishment.

[Leans. Tiny nudge.]

What about… me making it up to you, instead?

[ aching, she buries her cheek deeper into the pillow. how stupid, she thinks, to be hurt by all this. even now, she's that fragile. she shouldn't let anyone know that—not least of all a man who covets secrets as dearly as Henry Creel.

without meeting his eye, ] No.

[ hashtag blue balls ]

[rip Henry Creel

Though maybe blue balls is the least of his worries if he thinks about how utterly quickly this went downhill, just for saying one wrong thing. Is there something else there, churning in her mind?]

Sprezzatura. What’s actually wrong?

[ can she get away with giving up nothing?

... no.

she seems very small but very hard when she next speaks, like a lump of raw iron. cold, too. ]

Eonia and Selcouth. They so often forbid me from seeing my grandfather. Punishment for bad girl who does not behave. [ she speaks in a hoarse murmur only, nearly a strain to hear. ] He was only man in that girl's life who did not condescend to her, and she was kept from him. He was not well. Eventually illness took him away forever.

[ deeeeeep inhale ]

So I do not enjoy bad girl's punishment.

[Oh. A little girl deprived of someone she loved, and someone who loved her back. Framed as a punishment, of course she’d balk at the verbiage he used.

He didn’t know. She never tells him these things. But now…

Now she is, and looking at her on her side, so small, he can see little Sapione still in there, somewhere, no matter how much Sprezzatura says she’s left her behind. And maybe that, too, is bothering her.

Henry doesn’t respond at first. He just leans in to kiss at her shoulder. And then, finally, he replies softly.]

Thank you for telling me. I didn’t mean to upset you. I want to keep your bad memories at bay — not bring them to the forefront.

[ how she loathes to reveal any of this and admit to another how it affects her. that these punishments and disparagements worked. closing her eyes when Henry kisses her... ]

All I am is bad memories.

[Everyone is a product of their environment. As much as he hates all the parental figures he ever had, Henry knows that he was shaped by them permanently. He carries pieces of his mother, and father, and Dr. Brenner with him everywhere, even if they cut miserably, and that pain turns to anger.

It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Henry wouldn’t think any lesser of her for it.]

That’s not true. To me, you’ve been so many good memories. The most important ones I have. And we can make more. And more. Until someday, there’s no room for anything but the good.

[ that sounds so sweet as to be naive. ] Has this place made you become optimist?

[A low, wry sound, despite the weight of the conversation.]

Not exactly. I just know what I’d like for…

[For her? For him? For a future where they find each other again, once they’re done with this awful town?]

…us, someday.

I would not mind it, either.

[He feels all at once intensely warmed and hollowed out. Joyful that she’d also look forward to an “us” of the future, drowning in happy memories; but also aching, wishing it was now. And regretting that it had to come in the wake of melancholy and old scars of the past.

His voice trembles, as though the words themselves cannot fully represent the multi-layered feeling that is love. Simply, they cannot.]

I’m looking forward to it. [Another feather-light kiss on her shoulder.] And sorry, again.

[ those shoulders hitch once, a brutally restrained hiccup, and then Sprezzatura rolls onto her back. it pains her to look at him when they're both like this, but she does look at him. she wants to see more than she wants to hide. ]

Your voice is shaking.

[ it has to be true. all of it.

she brings her legs up and hugs his hips with her inner thighs. ]

Don't cry.

[ she thinks it would be crying that would do that. even though he hasn't wept since they were children. ]

[His hands go to the sides of her thighs, just a light and smoothing touch. Good to feel her close again, after they had been so entwined and then disconnected just as suddenly. His heart still beats hard in his chest; that much had never stopped, but all for different reasons, now.

His expression is… caught between relief and want and apology and regret and affection, utterly clear that he doesn’t really know how to wear it, rare as it is. He pulls his lips up faintly at the corners.]

I’m not crying. I’m just— [It’s an overwhelm, but one he’s not trying to shove aside.] I don’t know how to say it. I’m just glad I met you.

Come here.

[ her anger fizzled, she wallows in the ache instead. brings him closer by the nape to kiss up the apples of his cheeks. she loops her tail around him, too, and lets the soft tip brush against his inner thighs. ]

[He tilts down closer to her without needing extra encouragement, eager to remain close and just to revel in the existence of her. A hand on her side, the other pressed into the bed to keep him balanced. Her tail's a hug, too, tickling.

Closes his eyes when she kisses him, exhaling a shaky breath, but he's smiling.]

[ nudges with her nose ] Better?

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