Fickle Flame | OT7

The Chains of Persuasion

"And here I was thinking about throwing you a bone, doll. To think I was even considering making a call to see if we couldn't maybe have your liaison retry the first trial. But, you want to slap me? Just because you're a little angry?" he tuts, shaking his head as he closes the remaining distance between them, pressing her further against the dresser.

"No, no, no, please! I'll do anything!" she pleads, not even really sure what he means by giving her a bone or making a call but the idea of him helping, potentially saving her clan, has her desperate. "Anything, I swear, just help them, please!" Her eyes frantically search his face, looking for some shred of decency, some sliver of sympathy.

His hand comes up, gripping her face. His fingers dig into one cheek while his thumb the other, making her mouth form a pouted 'o'. "You're cute when you beg," he smirks, his eyes flicking down to her lips before he wets his own with the tip of his tongue. "But, nah, not feeling generous anymore." Yoongi roughly releases her face then turns, walking away, not being witness to the cascade of emotions that flit across her face. He walks back into the bathroom, returning a moment later with a long shirt. He holds it out to her. She glances down at it like it might bite her. "Take it." It's more a demand than anything.

She grabs the shirt, quickly pulling it on. It falls to just above her knees. She flinches when Yoongi grabs the fold of her towel peeking out from the bottom of the shirt and snatches it from her body. Her hands fist into the black fabric of the shirt as she fights the tears threatening to drown her. "Please," she croaks out in one last attempt.

"You act like you have something to bargain here. 'Oh, Yoongi, save my clan, I'll do anything you want'," he mocks out in a high pitched voice. "Yet, what you seem to fail to realize, you're going to do whatever I want regardless, doll." He steps close to her, forcing her back against the dresser again. He emphasizes each word with a jab to her chest with his index finger, "We. Own. You."

"I'll stop fighting," she offers in a meek voice, her eyes pleading.

He rolls his eyes. "You really don't get it, do you? Of course you don't, you know nothing beyond what Lincoln has allowed you to know."

At the mention of her clan leader she furrows her brow. How does Yoongi know Lincoln? "How do you know that name?"

He sighs. But instead of answering her question he turns and walks over to his bedside table. He snatches up the little black remote and waves it in the air. "Come," he orders moving back into the bathroom. "Now." The tone of his last word making her jump, she hastily follows him. "Here," he opens a drawer and sets a toothbrush on the counter. "You know what this is?" he looks at her expectantly.

She chews her bottom lip. It looks similar enough to some of the hygiene tools they keep in camp. Plus, she saw Yoongi use one earlier. "Umm, yeah, of course." He nods at the toothbrush then leans against the counter watching her. Shayne clenches her hands into fists to keep them from trembling as she approaches the counter. Yoongi didn't answer her question. Why? Fuck him for being so gods damned cryptic and mysterious.

"You're going to make a mess," Yoongi huffs, watching her smear entirely too much toothpaste on the toothbrush. "Here, like this," he takes the toothbrush and taps off the huge glob into the sink before showing her the proper amount and how to squeeze the tube.

"Thanks," she murmurs bringing the brush to her mouth. She hesitates a moment, the scent coming from the paste is sharp and kind of burns her nose. Her face pinches in disgust at the taste. "'t buns," she garbles out around the handle.

"It's mint, you'll get used to it. You'll do this every morning and every night, regardless of what room you're in there should be a toothbrush and toothpaste for you. Now, hurry up," Yoongi crosses his arms, his expression bored as he watches her.