give and take

Who: Lucas and Feo
Where: Lucas' place
When: early evening

Lucas had called Sam to tell her that he had something for her, but she hadn't answered. He'd wound up just making a trek to her office at the police station but she wasn't at her desk so he left the envelope with the first confession and one of the photos from the torture. It was a later photo that he'd scoured with a close eye for anything that might give any indication of the killer, but Lucas had found nothing, and deemed it worthy of going to the police. They didn't need to know that he had others to go with it.

Back home he poured himself a drink and flipped through his copy of the paper relishing the fact that his article was on the front page, ignoring that obnoxious Detective Hollis and his promotion. Lucas was in the mood to celebrate. The kind of mood where he considered calling December to schedule another out of time meeting, but that always pissed her off. It was good because she was harder with him, but tonight he wanted to push back himself. That wasn't an option with December, or at least not how he was thinking. Frowning he went to refill his glass from the decanter and he spotted the matchbook with Feo's number on it on the dinning room table where he'd left it. Picking it up he made a snap decision, deciphering the numbers and dialing them.

When the phone started ringing, Feo assumed it would be her uncle. It wouldn't be surprising in the least if the curmudgeon felt the need to bother her at home to find out why she had been absent from the shop that day. After taking in the circus revolving around the commissioner, she had spent some time simply drifting through the city. While the lack of purpose didn't rest entirely easy with her, the exercise served to burn off some energy. The conversations of others flowed around her and she took some pleasure in eavesdropping. Nothing stuck out. Mundane chatter about things she couldn't care less about for the most part. Better luck next time.

She left it to continue ringing. Let him stew. She may have had more patience when it came to Folke than she did anyone else but she wasn't going to jump when he clicked his fingers. She wasn't above leaving a broken old man to grow more and more irate. His anger was one of the things that kept him going, she thought with a tiny smirk. Of course, it could be something she should attend to. Work. Deciding to relent, she picked up the phone with a short, "Hmm?" Manners were not her strong point.

Lucas didn't hang up even as the phone continued to ring. He had moment of being a true submissive and waiting through ten or so rings was one of the things he had the patience for. When she did finally picked up he smiled a little, taking another gulp of his drink. "I'm guessing you left me your number because you wanted me to call you?" he asked forgoing the greeting if she was as well.

Ah. Now that was somewhat unexpected. Definitely more interesting than the grumblings of her uncle. "Guess whatever you want," she answered. As far as she was concerned, the fact he had her number at all was implication enough. If he had never bothered to call, it wouldn't have mattered. She wasn't prepared to cater to his ego purely because he'd had the gumption to do so. "What do you want?"

A devilish smile curled across Lucas' lips at her answer. He knew it meant something that she'd given it to him. Maybe she didn't expect him to call but it didn't mean she didn't want him to. "Are you in the mood for a drink?" he asked, only giving her an answer to her question if she inferred it.

There was a definite pause before she responded. She'd seen the article in the paper. Wasn't hard to miss. If he was fishing for any further information, she had nothing to give. Unfortunately. The buying and selling of the details didn't have any appeal to her but knowing the details did. Though she figured that the reason for this phone call was more likely to be routed in the performance at the Kitten Club than anything else.

"Where?" The tone suggested that the choice of venue was somehow important. That he'd be judged by it. Really, it was of no consequence. Just getting the game rolling.

Lucas caught the tone, and he paused, as if he was thinking it over. "I'll let the lady choose. Though my place is technically on the table if you want." He knew it was a cop out of an answer, but he didn't quite know her well enough to play her games with ease.

"Your place will do." She could see the animal in its natural habitat. Poke around his environment. The personal space of an individual could speak volumes about them. She wondered what Lucas' would say about him. That and she wasn't going to compromise her own space by offering up an invite to her place.

"Then here it is," Lucas said, giving her the address before hanging up. He looked around the apartment, wondering if he should tidy up, but decided against it. Feo could deal with the stacks of books around, the piles of papers and the overall feel that the place belonged to a clean bachelor who was married to his job as a reporter.

Once she'd left her apartment, Feo hailed a cab and headed to the nicer part of town. How apt that a seedy man like Lucas should live there. She reveled in such things - the underbelly creeping into the pristine, the dark faces behind the masks. Underneath it all, people were all the same.

She showed some degree of courtesy by knocking when she reached his door. Though it was more out of arrogance than politeness. Announcing her presence.

At her knock he looked up, taking his glass to the door with him as he opened it. "Welcome," he said, pausing a moment to assess her before stepping away to let her into the apartment. Lucas might blend in on occasion with the underbelly of the city, he was still technically part of the upper class.

Feo brushed past him, noting the glass in his hand. She gave it a pointed look before meeting his eyes. With one hand she waved him off in a request for him to go and pour another. Her attention then turned to her surroundings. Slowly pacing the room, she looked more like a prospective buyer than a visitor. There was certainly plenty to look at. Clutter. Her own living space was much more spartan. Didn't see the need to be surrounded by things. Things tended to get in the way. She picked up a book from a heap and began to leaf through it.

Lucas nodded, closing the door behind her as he went off to pour her drink. Once it was poured he took his own, coming up behind her to hand the drink over her shoulder. "Are you interested in the subject?" Lucas asked about the book in her hands. It was on airplanes used in the war and the technology behind it.

Balancing the book in one hand, Feo reached behind her to take the drink. As she took a sip, she continued to stare at the text in front of her. Scanning it rather than taking it in. "In how things work, yes." She snapped the book shut and set it down beside the stack it had been a part of. One arm folded over her chest, she looked over her shoulder at him. "Did you plan on discussing planes?" she gibed.

Lucas watched her scan the book then close it and set it aside. He looked as if he was debating her question for a moment then shook his head, tangling his free hand in her hair with a little tug. "No, not really."

That answered the question she was going to ask but she decided to say it anyway. After she had reached up to take hold of his wrist to press the underside with her thumb so his fingers would release. Disentangled, she moved a few paces away and turned to face him. "Your plans are...?" She watched him expectantly, waiting for him to say whatever it was that currently ran through his mind.

He made a small noise of protest when she squeezed his hand but he couldn't help but let go. "I didn't really have one. I usually don't," he admitted. Often he just jumped to conclusion and decisions, without actual forethought. Which was exactly what had happened her. He saw her number and decided to call, not thought about what it might meant or involve.

One eyebrow went up briefly. A small flicker of surprise. She almost commented on it but curbed the impulse. Instead she knocked back the remainder of her drink and discarded the glass on top of the fascinating book about airplanes. "Improvise," she told him. Like it wasn't an obvious solution. "You must be good at that."

The devilish grin was back and Lucas knocked back the last of his drink as well. "I'm the absolute best," he told her, setting his glass next to hers, though not on the book. He moved closer to her, grabbing one of her wrists and twisting it back behind her back.

She did cast a glance over her shoulder to see the hold he had on her but made no attempt to get out of it. Instincts wanted her muscles to tense ready for action. She consciously made the effort to relax. As though he posed no threat. Goading. "Didn't you try this before? Then bolt?" she asked with a sigh.

When she didn't tense he frowned a little, twisting her arm a little harder and tangling his free hand in her hair again. "I did, but I figure we have more time, and less attention this time. Or would you rather the roles were reversed?" he asked with a deep voice, tightening his hand in her hair again.

"Had to grow a pair," she mused, sounding as though it was a private observation voiced aloud more than a taunt directed at him. Not responding to the question immediately, she remained pliant in the hold. May as well let him have his moment. Her brief grace of generosity spent, Feo turned into him to untwist her arm. Normally the motion would be followed by giving the unlucky idiot holding her a swift crack with her elbow. Wasn't necessary here, but for a second her elbow traveled towards Lucas' eye socket before she dropped it down. "See how you do," she commented. She wanted to see what he had to dish out.

Here comment, taunt or no, didn't phase Lucas this time. In another mood it might, but for the moment he was level headed enough to no rise to insults like that. As she twisted, he held tight to her wrist, even if it wasn't pushed behind her like it had been before. "How I do? Really?" he asked with a wicked as the hand in her hair tangled harder giving a sharp tug back. He couldn't help but wonder how far she'd let him play. He'd given her pretty free reign the first time they were together, but he'd enjoyed that as much as she had. Turning the tables sometimes changed the game, and everyone had boundaries. The fun part was pushing against them, not barreling them over. "Is that what you want?"

She inhaled sharply when he yanked her head. "That's what I said," she replied, voice low. He wanted to push and she wanted to know how far she could be pushed. How far she'd let herself be pushed. If there was one thing Feo held far too much stock in, it was herself. Her own endurance, her own will. Often in her less than savory encounters, she didn't afford much opportunity to testing it. They were about business. This setting was different. This setting she could play with.

Lucas kept the wicked grin, hooking one of his legs around hers to see if he could knock her to her knees. There was something gratifying about the reaction that someone gave when the fell to their knees hard.

Balance thrown, Feo teetered as she tried to regain her equilibrium. The efforts failed and she went down. A throb spread through her knees when they connected with the floor. The hiss that emanated was more a flash of frustration than it was pain, and she couldn't stop herself shooting a glare up at him.

The glare was the best part, and Lucas tightened his grip in her hair again. "Much better," he said with a little bit of a patronizing to himself. He ran his finger across her cheek, a gentle almost soothing touch, shockingly different the grip in her hair.

The light caress put Feo on edge. She visibly recoiled, angling her face away, caught off guard. She reasoned that was probably the intent and read it as a warning. Expecting his next move to be less tame, she braced herself.

The next move was far less tame, in the form of a sharp smack across her cheek. It wasn't planned though, more a reaction to her pulling away like she did. It upset him, but at the same time he relished it. She needed to be broken, that was all. "So tell me, are you the begging type? Or have you not found someone capable of making you beg."

That stung, It radiated through her cheek. Feo flicked her head to shake it off then looked up at him. Someone capable? Not yet. She hadn't let herself be reduced to that. Her answer came in the form of a raised eyebrow. She had to admit that the fact he was willing to try was intriguing. Possibly foolish, but still intriguing.

When she didn't answer, Lucas smacked her again. "You're supposed to speak when spoken to love," he explained. He could see the defiance in her, the kinda that begged to be broken out of someone. It was the same he showed when the roles were reversed, which meant he appreciated it, even if it made her more of a challenge.

This time she didn't flinch, determined not to react again. Concentrating on that provided a useful centre of focus. She stared at him for a few seconds, a darkness starting to simmer in her eyes. "No," she said in a terse reply to the question.

"Perhaps we can change that," he suggested, giving her hair a tug back so her neck was exposed. He was much taller than her standing, let alone with her on her knees, but it was fine. He what mattered was that he could still reach her. His next touch was gentle again, nothing more than his finger lightly tracing the line of her throat while his hand in her hair held her in place in case she decided to recoil again. "Tell me, what is it that you want?" Lucas asked, eyes going dark.

The restriction of movement bothered her. There was far too little leeway in his grip. She knew there would be a way out of it if she needed there to be, there was always a way, but it sparked something in her. Without realising it, she found she was gritting her teeth. "Still deciding." It wasn't entirely said as a provocation or avoidance - there was a truth in it. Still deciding how she felt about being on this side of things. Still deciding if she was suited to it. It was all part of an internal monologue that she wasn't yet keen on sharing.

In a way that was a problem. It was harder to get her to submit if she didn't know what she wanted. The whole game was about the drive towards what the other wanted. Lucas wanted her sobbing and begging for him, but in order to get it he had to learn what she wanted in return. He needed to dangle it in front of her. "Deciding between what?"

Feo rolled her eyes and let out a grudging sigh. "Deciding if I feel like doing this." Or rather, if she could let him do this to her. But she couldn't say that. She needed to make it sound as though the escapade was somehow beneath her instead of starting to get to her. "Deciding if I can play nice," she added. Not the easiest of tasks for her. Hopefully he'd be smart enough to understand what she was trying to say - that her aim was to explore her own thresholds.

Lucas nodded, giving her hair another tug which would push her forward, towards the ground before letting go of her. He stepped away, grabbing his glass from the table to refill it as well as to light a cigarette. "Do you not normally play nice?" he asked giving her a look that dared her to get up from the floor even though he was far from reach.

As she figured she should, judging by his face, Feo remained where she was. She did however take the opportunity to stretch, cricking her neck from side to side. It was more of a relief than she'd expected. Done with that, she turned her attention back to Lucas. "Not often. Does that come as a surprise?" she asked with a sarcastic lilt.

Once his glass was refilled he settled himself at one of the straight back chairs of his table. He watched her for a moment, then motioned for her to come towards him, curious how she would do so as he took a drag on his cigarette. "No it doesn't."

Hands flat on the floor, she looked as though she was going to crawl across the floor over to him. For a couple of paces she did so, a bit of a tease, before pushing herself upright. Probably breaking some unspoken rule. She walked slowly over towards Lucas then sat down on the floor in front of him, arms behind her and legs outstretched. Like her returning to the floor was some kind of strange compromise.

He'd been impressed when she started to crawl, but when she got to walk over he wound up half smirking into his drink. He didn't think she'd be that easy to break. Her sitting in front of him was something though, even if Lucas didn't approve of how she was sitting. Setting the glass down and balancing the cigarette on his lips as he leaned forward, catching her chin in his hand to wretch her towards him again. "You want to know how far you can go before you break," he told her. "Though the question is with pain or just taking orders." Lucas preferred pain, but he was willing to play with the other. Mental pain was a different payout for him, but there was payout nonetheless.

"How astute," she commented in a monotone. At least he had actually got it. Hadn't made her spell it out for him. She would have rather crawled across the floor on hands and knees than that. "Orders," she repeated, not looking particularly impressed with the idea. "Would have thought you could do better than merely orders." He'd be wasting his time, and hers.

"You need to get better at listening," Lucas chastised, wrenching her chin again. "Physical pain is always on the table. That's something more creative. Though you strike me as someone who could use a lesson in taking orders." He pulled his hand away, back far enough to slap her again.

Feo refrained from uttering what kind of person Lucas struck her as. Straightening herself up, she leaned more towards him. Readying herself for the blow that was threatened and daring him to follow through on it, regardless of the fact he'd already shown that he had no qualms about doing so.

Lucas took another sip of his drink then set the glass down on the table. "I suppose I'm taking that as a yes then." He eyed her, making her wait, knowing full well that was part of the game. He could see her readying, see her anticipating his next move without him actually doing anything. Instead of slapping her again he reached for her upper arm, taking it in a firm grip and attempting to wrench her off balance again. It would have worked better when she was leaning on it, but this time he tugged her upward, towards him so she'd either be forced to scramble and get her feet back under her or let him hold her by the rough grip on her arm.

She tried to steady herself, ending up resting awkwardly on her knees and toes. It wasn't the most stable of positions, with him supporting her more than she was herself. The skin on her arm burned from where it had twisted under his fingers during her attempt to regain her footing.

Since he was mostly supporting her, Lucas tightened his grip on her arm, hard enough to bruise. "Why'd you come?" he asked giving her a bit of a shake to demand an answer out of her.

"Slow night," was her first response. However, it was quite a good question so she followed it up with a more honest, "Curiosity." About him as well as herself. How far he'd go in his games. How far his interest in pain went.

Lucas held her gaze for a moment longer, hand still gripped tight on her arm. At once his face turned to satisfied and he released her, though in a way it was more like tossing her back, hoping to knock her over again.

She just about managed to get her hands to the floor in time to catch herself. The move was far from elegant and luck instead of control. It stung the heel of her hands, the impact sending waves up her arms that caused a brief but sharp spike of pain where Lucas' grip had been. Out of the corner of her eye she glanced at the offending spot, almost pleased at the red finger marks left there.

He leaned back, taking another drag on his cigarette before lifting the toe of his shoe to her chin, tilting her head up to see his face. It wasn't a gently motion either but it didn't have the force that would equate kicking her. "Tell me, do you want me to break you?" he asked as he blew smoke out in a stream. If that was what she wanted, he'd break her like any good trainer would break a feisty stallion.

That was the question. Her gut reaction was no, she didn't. When she gave herself a moment to think about it, another perspective came to light. It might be humiliating but it would be insightful. Rampant ego made her consider herself beyond anything that could be thrown at her but she reasoned she must have weakness somewhere. Everybody else did. If he could manage it, it would identify where she wasn't as strong as she was convinced she was. Use it to her gain. "I want to see you try."

That was enough for Lucas. He moved his foot to her chest, pushing her roughly away from him, as if he didn't care how fell, even if he did watch her, waiting for her reaction before getting up. "Stay there," he ordered as he left the room, headed back to his room for a moment. When he returned he was holding a two swatches of blood red fabric and a small pocket knife.

She thought a kick might have been coming. After her unceremonious tumble before, she was somewhat better prepared this time around. She avoided falling back completely and eased herself back up into a seated position. Gaze averted, she looked like she was ignoring the command yet heeded it at the same time. His return soon got her attention back when she caught sight of the objects he'd gone to retrieve, her mind quickly starting to tick over with possibilities.

Lucas dropped the knife on the table with a clatter then reached for Feo's hair, pulling up on her. "On your knees," he ordered, holding her hair until she was there. The fabric was silk, expensive and soft and he drew it along her neck gently as he held her in place.

Scalp prickling, she complied with the request. Vain she wasn't but she still didn't fancy ending up with a clump of hair missing. There was a split second where the feel of cloth on her neck unsettled her for reasons she couldn't, or wasn't willing to, fathom. The knee-jerk reaction was a quick flinch. Irritated at herself, Feo pushed it to the back of her mind.

Grinning at the flinch he dropped to one knee behind her, pulling both of her arms back sharply. Using the silk swatch he bound her wrists together tight enough to leave marks. The fabric would leave red welts, but it was too soft to cut the skin. Once she was tied he leaned in, pressing a kiss to her neck before standing and going back to his chair in front her. "I don't think you need this one," he said dropping the spare fabric on the table. "Unless you want me to gag you of course."

Almost without thinking about it she was testing the binds. Not often wiggle room and the knot was too tight for her to work with her fingers. In a way, she was impressed. And she could work without her hands if she needed to. "You'd miss the backtalk," she said with a hint of a smirk.

"I'd miss punishing the backtalk," he corrected as he picked up the knife and flicked it open. Leaning across his knees he unbuttoned the first few buttons of her shirt, just as she'd done to him before. He turned the knife over in his hand twice before running it across her exposed skin twice, once with the dull side of the blade and once with the sharp side. The cut wasn't much more than a scratch, little droplets of blood welting here and there, but that was the extent of it.

Feo made sure to keep her breathing deep and even. Her gaze flicked between his face and the knife a few times before settling on him. Observing him as he went about his handiwork. The pain from the cut was the niggling kind. Nothing too severe. Like an itch she couldn't scratch.

That was a difference Lucas had guessed would be between them. When she dolled out pain it was in sharp motions, but he took another route. He sharp tugs were fine, but the dull pain that couldn't be mended, that burning that didn't sting but didn't go away either was what he prefered. He brought the knife back to her collarbone, pricking the skin there with the tip of it slowly, first pressure then finally breaking the skin, leaving her a mark similar to the one on his own collarbone from her.

The anticipation was the worst part. Patience was not one of her virtues. Pain could be tolerated and ignored yet the waiting was something she could do little about. When the hurt did come, she felt almost a sense of relief. She glanced down at the cut and made an 'hmm' sound like a single note chuckle. Matching set. It struck her as oddly amusing.

Lucas found it amusing as well which was why he didn't punish her for the chuckle. He eased the knife lower, running the the dull edge along her skin to her sternum where he turned it, making a mark deeper this time in a short downward motion that ran down her chest. The blood bubbled a little behind the knife, enough to drip unlike the other cuts. Content with it he pulled away, closing the knife and setting it on the table. He picked up his glass again, taking a sip before tilting it towards her chest, letting a few drops of the strong alcohol run down her chest and into the new wound.

Behind her back, Feo curled and uncurled the fingers of one hand into a loose fist. A small expression of pain where it wouldn't be seen. She could feel the warm trickle of blood and wanted to wipe it from her skin. The sting of the alcohol made her inhale sharply and again she wished she had the use of her hands in order to scrape at the irritated spot.

The sharp inhale was what Lucas was going for but he also knew it was more than that. That was the point of tying her up after all. When she'd poured her drink on his wounds he'd gotten the sharp burn, but been able to stop her. Feo, with her hands tied behind her back couldn't get the release, or wipe away the offending liquid. "It's all about the slow build of it, how much of it you can take. Anyone can handle short bursts of sharp pain, but how long can you handle that dull ache before it drives you mad, or forces you to beg for something sharper," he explained as if she was his student.

He was lecturing her about pain. Funny. Feo shot him a withering look. In her view, it depended on how long those short bursts went on for. "Imparting such wisdom. I feel privileged," she deadpanned.

Lucas gave her a short look considering her for a moment before he smacked again. "You were right, I would have missed punishing the backtalk."

Of course she was right. The ache of the hit aside, Feo got a kick out of provoking a reaction. She made sure not to let it show, avoiding any trace of a smirk or any other small change in expression. All she did was turn her face towards her shoulder, suggesting a pain that the stretch could somehow alleviate.

The devilish smirk was back as she stretched her neck. In a flash Lucas grabbed her arm again, not caring that with her wrists tied lifting her off the floor would tug at her arms awkwardly. As he pulled at her he stood up, drawing her against him with one hand while the other pressed against the cut on her chest.

It wasn't easy to keep her footing as she was yanked up from the floor. One elbow popped and she could feel the strain in her muscles. Irksome discomfort. That sensation became more acute as she grew rigid, almost as bothered by the proximity as she was the fresh spark of pain. She suppressed the urge to wince but that resulted in her body giving a small twitch.

"Tell me dear," Lucas asked with a disturbing tone to his voice, "what is it that you want?" He didn't relinquish his grip on her and one finger pressed harder into the existing cut, forcing more blood out of it.

On anyone else Feo's smile would have been a reasonably pleasant one. On her it had a nasty undercurrent, like a child about to step on an insect. "Hands would be nice," she answered, not expecting the request to be granted but not willing to submit yet.

Lucas grinned, tightening his grip on her arm again. It would bruise at this point, but he didn't care. "Not yet sweetheart. Later maybe, but not yet," he said softly.