#wavouge

"What exactly is the problem, Wave?" Jet asks. "Everything looks fine from here."

"The engine just turned on, is what the fucking problem is," Wave says.

Silence. None of them move. Finally, Jet says, "Storm, get off the fucking ship."

"Got it, boss." Storm, in his infinite wisdom, doesn't disengage his magnates before he pulls one hand off the hull to salute. It causes another loud sound that makes both Wave and Jet cringe. "Sorry. I'll just—"

There's another thunk. Wave searches her camera feeds for what could have caused it—then whirls around when she realizes it didn't come through comms at all, but from inside the fucking shuttle.

After she swivels her chair around, she comes face to face with a blaster. The person holding it is wearing an all-black spacesuit, the visor of their helmet opaque. Still, Wave is pretty sure she recognizes that silhouette.

"You cycled through the airlock. You know damn well it's safe to breathe," she points out. She keeps her eyes locked with the intruder's helmet, purposefully trying to look past the blaster.

A chuckle, muffled behind the helmet, before the intruder presses a button on the pad on their hip to raise the visor. As expected, Rouge's face appears, a sly smile painted on her lips.

"I suppose your sidekicks are in the ship, still?"

"Keeping yours busy, I hope," Rouge says.

Wave can't turn her head to look without losing sight of the blaster Rouge is still threatening her with, but she can hear the sounds of combat through Jet and Storm's comm feeds. There's no reason for it, really; if Rouge and her boys were planning to drive the ship out there, they could have just done that. Starting a fight like this is just insulting.

Of course, Wave knows why they're doing it. She'd know even if Rouge wasn't currently raising one leg to lean her knee on Wave's chair, right between her legs.

"That should leave us plenty of time to get our business done, don't you think?" Rouge leans closer with a smile. She presses the blaster against Wave's temple, then drags it downwards in a mock caress. Wave knows from experience she can send an electrical current running alongside the outside of it with just a flick of a button, so she doesn't jerk away. She's not in the mood to get her feathers singed again, thank you very much.

"And what business is that?"

Rouge meets Wave's glare with a smile. "Don't you remember? On Minos-8, when we—"

"That," Wave hisses, "was a one-time thing."

Rouge hums. "Oh? So I guess Europa was—"

"—another mistake," Wave snaps. "I'm not going to—"

She cuts off abruptly when Rouge lifts the blaster from her face and presses it between her legs instead. Damn her, but she does know how to make her feel good immediately.

"Did you really think you wouldn't get caught?" The owner of the manor, a curvy bat Wave thought for sure didn't fucking exist, stops in front of her. She places one finger delicately under Wave's chin and uses that to tilt her head up. "You should know better than to break into the home of a vampire."

Wave swallows. Her throat is dry, the motion slightly painful. "I thought vampires were a myth."

The bat smiles, a salacious curve of her lips. In spite of the evident danger she's in, Wave can't help but notice how attractive she is. Even so, it's a shock to feel herself growing wet—which is when she becomes abruptly aware of the fact that she's naked.

Wave looks down at her bare flesh, then back up to the vampire in front of her. "What sick game are you playing at?"

The bat walks around Wave until she's behind her. With the way she's restrained, Wave can't turn to look at her. "You'll need to be punished for attempting to steal from me. I figured we could both have some fun with it."

Footsteps sound from behind Wave as the bat comes closer. She feels something touch her back. Leather, thin. A riding crop, or a whip of some kind.

Wave shudders. "You're sick."

"I could kill you, instead," the vampire says. Her tone is so matter of fact that Wave has no doubt she could. "Be grateful I'm going easy on you."

Wave breathes deeply. She can't deny she's happy not to be dead, but she'd be much happier if the bat just let her walk free. She can't say that, though. It would—

Her train of thought gets derailed by a sharp strike against her back. Pain blooms in a thin line, sharp and hot.

"What do we say when we're grateful?"

Wave trembles, breath shuddering. Her knees feel weak. She's only standing because her hands are bound to the ceiling. The pain of the first strike has lessened some, but the vampire is stroking the tip of the whip across the welt and it's distracting enough that she just barely manages to gather her wits about her enough to gasp out a thank you.

The bat hits her again, on the upper thighs this time. "Thank you, what?"

How the fuck is Wave supposed to know? She takes her best guess anyway, trying to ignore how the gentle touch of leather caressing her thighs below where she was just struck is making slick run from her. "Thank you, Mistress."

I was really lazy and wanted to get the idea out, so I traced pieces of other art then repositioned them. Credit to this art for the originals:

And I used this for Wave’s coloring: