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Summary
“Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, Rio,” Agatha spits out sinisterly, and roughly presses a smiling Rio harder against the ground.
“Mmm, but I thought you liked when I bite.” Rio half-laughs, half-moans, sensually biting her lip. The hand wrapped around her neck is persistent. She strokes Agatha’s wrist with her thumb, a gesture of affection contrasting with the overt dominance of the scene.
“Incorrigible.” Agatha’s voice is vehement, almost a snarl in its intensity. She's looking down on Rio, flicking hair out of her eyes. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Is that so terribly wrong of me?” Through hooded eyes, Rio’s smile doesn’t waver. “Maybe you shouldn’t look so delicious covered in blood, then.
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alternatively, rio always wants more & if she gets hurt in her wanting—that's on her. agatha is a tangled mess of feelings & a habitual runner.