Rebekah MacKenzie (beckathesweet) wrote in rrinitiative, @ 2012-10-29 20:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | day seven, rebekah, rebekah and ryan, ryan |
Lessons in Self Control
Characters: Becka and Ryan
Setting: The library then her room, mid-morning
The first taste of liquor should have been more of a shock to her system, but Becka barely noticed the burning sensation. It should have been repulsive - wasn’t that why she’d always avoided alcohol before? No, that wasn’t why. She knew there was alcohol designed to taste good - like this bottle, apparently, with it’s slightly fruity flavor. No, she’d avoided alcohol because she’d always been afraid that if she drank, she wouldn’t be able to stop from letting herself do things that she actually wanted to do but always talked herself out of doing.
She wasn’t doing a great job at not thinking, though. Even though the alcohol was doing a good job of warming her up when she hadn’t realized she was cold to begin with, it wasn’t doing much to stop the whirling thoughts in her head. She just couldn’t figure out what was wrong with her that... She sighed, shook her head and took another drink, eyes skimming over titles of books absently.
Becka was completely unaware of how much she was drinking or how quickly she was drinking it, and with the morning she’d had on top of an empty stomach paired with her inexperience with alcohol, it did not take much time at all for her to feel drunk. She’d always thought she would be a happy drunk if she ever succumbed to temptation, and maybe she would be under different circumstances, but just then? She just wanted to cry, and she sniffled to try to keep from doing just that.
Ryan was being unobtrusive. At least that was the plan for the day, after yesterday and the stocks and his ruined plans. The only plus to come out of it all was the confirmation of a few instincts about Susanna and an enjoyable end to the night. He wished idly that they were free of this place, so he could hear the truth from her lips, and introduce her to new and fun things.
He wandered quietly to the library to find something to occupy his day so he wouldn't have to interact with many people. He noted with some disturbance that Wren had changed rooms. So much for those plans, he thought a little bitterly.
He was skimming the books on one shelf when he heard a faint sniffle. Oh God, he wasn't alone, he thought. He carefully eased over and peered down the aisle. Becka. And... His eyes found the bottle and he nearly groaned.
Just what he needed. Another drunk blonde.
He should slip away, but maybe he could use this to his advantage. In a good way, he reminded himself. "Becka?" he said, furrowing his brow in what looked like concern.
Becka startled a bit at the sound of someone saying her name, and she turned bright eyes toward Ryan. “What?” she asked automatically, her mind not really doing a very good job at keeping up with things in that moment.
Yup, drunk. Definitely drunk. Probably wouldn't take much for a little bit like her, he thought idly. Especially since she came off as very much the sort who didn't do such things. "Sorry to startle you, darlin'," he said, tipping an imaginary hat. "I thought I heard someone crying, and I was worried." He hesitated an instant, letting himself look uncertain. "Are you all right?"
Nodding absently at the apology, Becka wondered if she was supposed to tell him it was all right. Was she supposed to talk to him? He’d been in her room, she remembered. She sniffled again at the question, shaking her head. “No ‘m not,” she answered, fighting that battle against her tears quite well considering her state.
If he were the sort to be confounded at the sight of tears, he would have been in trouble. Truth was, however, that he simply didn't care, though he certainly looked as if he did. He patted his pockets, looking for the kerchief he usually kept just in case, all part of the manners his mother had taught him. "Oh dear," he said, finally finding it and pulling it out. He walked over, pressing it into her hand. "What's wrong?"
Becka’s hand lifted as if of its own accord, taking the handkerchief without any real thought, and then just holding it in her lap, fingers picking at it absently. “Caroline’s dead,” she answered, focusing on that because it was easier than focusing on how stupid she’d been with Adam. “I saw... She fell, and I saw her hit the... I couldn’t help. I wanted to help her, but she was dead.” That was a good reason to drink, right? It seemed like it would be a good reason even if she didn’t think it was why she was drinking.
Caroline dead. First he'd heard of it. Must have been stupid enough to try climbing out, he thought with a tinge of disgust. He'd known there was something going on behind her eyes yesterday. Fool. He knelt at her side, though that gave him an entirely too good of view of her body's profile. "Oh that must have been horrible for you," he said sympathetically.
Becka nodded at the sympathy, lip wibbling again, and she lifted the bottle to her lips to try to avoid giving into the nearly unbearable urge to cry. “It was horrible, and then Cal told me to get Adam, and Wren was there, and I was so stupid,” she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. Shut up, Becka! She couldn’t seem to listen to that voice in her head, though. “I messed things up cause I dunno what I’m doing, and he’s prob’ly better off if I just leave him alone, cause I’m no good at this.”
Ryan carefully rubbed his hand up and down her back, when it wasn't shrugged off initially. Keep your focus, came the thought in a voice suspiciously like Susanna's. Great, he thought. Just what he needed. At least it wasn't a conscience. "Ruined what?" he asked though he'd of course seen them making puppy eyes at each other over the course of time he'd been here. "He decide to dump you for another girl?" He did not like knowing it was Wren or that his plans had been so wrecked there.
At that moment, Becka was completely oblivious of whose hand was on her back, just taking comfort in the soothing motion of it. She shook her head at the question, laughing shortly and sadly. “No, can’t dump someone if you’re not really with ‘em in the first place,” she said, stumbling over the words and running them together only a little bit. “We’re still... somethin’, I guess,” she added, shrugging. “I dunno what. S’posed to just go with things. I dunno how. Dunno how to just go with it and not try to figure it all out.”
Well, she was holding her liquor relatively well at least. Didn't make it easier on him, really. Vomit made anyone unappetizing for the duration. "Commitment phobic," he said knowingly. He'd been accused of it enough times himself. "That, or he's a player?" The suggestion was tentative. Best know where she stood with this guy. Though it sounded like she didn't even know that. "If he can't respect your wishes for a declared somethin', darlin', then maybe he isn't right for you." You could always try making him jealous, he nearly suggested.
Becka pulled a face, brows furrowing as she considered his first words. "I dunno. Only been a week since we met. Don't gotta rush things." Her eyes went wide at the question that Adam might be a player. "No! He's not like that," she defended immediately. "I don't think." What was he saying then? Becka wasn't sure she was keeping up very well but she was trying. She wasn't completely drunk, she was sure of and utterly wrong about that. "Nooo, is my fault cause I didn't tell 'im that, just came at 'im outta nowhere and didn't explain cause I'm scared. Just a stupid, scared little girl tryin' to make it in the big bad world," she finished on an odd giggle sob.
Mmkay, no bad talking the boy, he could see that for now at least. "Well I certainly hope he's not." He didn't care if someone were to call him a hypocrite. He never had been able to settle with just one person, though he pretended very well. They'd all been such boring, annoying things in the end. "What are you scared of?" he asked in a gentle voice, knowing that would prove useful at the least. "Now now, you're beating yourself up here. No need to do that."
Becka didn’t stop drinking as they talked; she probably should have, but she didn’t, just taking slow sips every once in awhile. Soon, she began rocking gently, swaying even in her seated position. She was so focused on dwelling on all the stupid things she’d said that she wasn’t even consciously aware of who she was talking to. “Lotsa stuff,” she responded to that gentle tone. “No, I messed up. Told ‘im why I’ve never done anything, shouldn’ta done that. Messed everything up.” Her words were getting softer and coming out slower, suddenly feeling incredibly tired.
It would be so easy to just.. lean over and press her further into that seat, slip his hand up her leg. She just wore those little sleep shorts, and he was all too aware of the length of her bare skinned leg just right there.
Head in the game, he told himself harshly. Do you want another day in the stocks? his back added, twinging still despite his having gotten Susanna to rub it a bit last night.
He snarled in the privacy of his own head, frustrated by the conflict of his urges and his survival instincts.
"Why you've never done anything?" he questioned quietly. She was out of it, and he wasn't sure she actually knew who he was at this point. He could use this information though. After another moment or two he carefully reached for the bottle. "I think you've had about enough, darlin'." Because if she passed out or something, he was going to be more tempted, and he didn't want to get in trouble yet so soon.
Becka sniffled again, pouting when he took the bottle. She didn’t think she was done drinking, not with the way she was still feeling so crummy, but she didn’t fight him on it. It was a few more beats before she realized he’d asked something. “Uh huh. All cause of a stupid bet in high school. What kinda stupid person holds onto that? Uggggh!” she groaned, tipping her head back against the books on the shelf behind her. Her eyes closed, a tiny bit of moisture slipping from between her lids. She was oblivious to the way her words weren’t coming out quite clear or that she wasn’t actually explaining anything by giving broken, partial responses. “Am so tired,” she sighed. “Tireda bein’ stupid, an’ just tired.” She shook her head slightly, bringing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. As she lowered her head to her knees, she kept her eyes closed.
Ryan made it a mantra in his head, be good, be good, don't indulge. It was harder than it might seem, despite having such a satisfying end of his night last night. He played with the bottle for a moment before taking a SIP, just one, himself. Control, he reminded.
"A bet?" he prompted. "A bet over what?" Yes, definitely drunk. He carefully thumbed away a tear, forcing himself to stay strictly in place. For a moment she reminded him of several others from the past, the tears a sweet thing for him as they struggled. Very still against that heavy surge of arousal.
Ryan put his arm around her as she leaned her head against her legs. "Not stupid, now," he said softly, wondering if she could be a horny drunk or if she was so innocent he couldn't edge things in that direction in a more.. consensual manner. But no. Be good. Fuck, he hated pretending to be a sheep. "Maybe I should get you to bed." Though whether he could trust himself to stay in control, he really wasn't sure.
Becka’s head tilted just a bit against the thumb that chased away a tear, finding comfort in the gesture. “Bet over me, over who’d get me ta fuck ‘em,” she bit out in a disgusted and frustrated voice, squeezing her closed eyes shut tighter. “Don’t wanna be like that. ‘m not a slut.”
The arm going around her was unexpected, but as someone who’d always been used to such gestures up until prison, Becka didn’t think twice about leaning into it. “I am,” she countered weakly. She felt like she’d just been making really poor decisions for a long time now. When he mentioned bed, she sighed. “M’be,” she murmured. “Don’t feel so good.” Her head was starting to pulse, her stomach churning.
Ah yeah, he could see how that would bother a person. Though in school he would have been one of the people betting. And bedding. "That is awful," he murmured. "Though sleeping with people doesn't make you a slut."
Yeah, touching bad. But he couldn't draw back now. He squeezed her to him. He made a soft negatory sound in his throat. "Mm, come on. Up and to your room. Do you have aspirin? Get you some water and aspirin and let you lay down."
Becka huffed softly, sniffling a bit. “Know that,” she replied. “Is why‘m stupid.” Because maybe if she hadn’t let it get to her so much, maybe she wouldn’t have been so anxious about dating, and she’d have any kind of idea what to do with whatever was going on with her and Adam rather than jumping all over him out of the blue when they were still figuring out just what was going on. She knew she was stupid, and drinking really hadn’t made her feel any less stupid.
“Huh?” Becka pulled her head up from her knee to look blankly at Ryan, blinking as if trying to see past a fog. “Oh, uh huh, yeah, I have aspirin.” She vaguely remembered making sure to get a bottle from Cal yesterday after talking to Carmel about it. God, that seemed like a long time ago. She didn’t make any move to get up, though, not really sure moving was a good idea with the way her head was starting to feel.
Teen angst. Ryan hadn't gotten it even in high school. It was a bit what this felt like though. He took another sip from the bottle, though it was fruitier than he preferred. "A lot of girls are like that though. Not stupid, just.. slower." He of course had never liked that and had pushed at every opportunity. Really looking back high school had been harder just because he hadn't had the skills he had now. "Knew several girls who pledged to wait til marriage." And had taken at least one of their virginity too.
"Mmkay. Take a few nice deep breaths. Don't want anything coming back up and it should help." Vomit was his least favorite bodily fluid, he was pretty certain. Even blood was infinitely preferable. "Then when you're ready, put your arm over my shoulders and I'll get you up." Too close, too close, too close. Not like I can't just touch a little on the way up, accidentally, the non survivor part of his brain said.
“Don’t care ‘bout marriage, just want it to be special,” Becka murmured, one hand coming up to rub over her eyes. Was that too much to ask? She wanted to feel special and important to whoever she did end up sleeping with, and this whole situation was just making her feel like she was losing herself completely.
Becka pulled a face at that, but did manage to breathe in deeply a few times. She really didn’t want to throw up, but she had a feeling she was probably going to at some point. Wasn’t that a right of passage of sorts? Still, she didn’t want to throw up on him, not after he’d been so nice to her, listening to her and stuff. When she finally felt like she could stand, she put her arm around his shoulders and tried to push herself up. She managed, though she really wasn’t quite steady, her head spinning just a bit.
And there it was, what he'd been hoping to pin down after everything she had been saying. She was a virgin. Fuck. He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to briefly taste blood as another surge of lust filled him.
Virgins always cried the best, he'd discovered.
"It will be special then," he said. If he had anything to do about it, it would be... At least for him. Down, boy, he told himself. You just got out of the damn stocks last night. No need to put yourself there again. Take your fucking time and savor the long hunt again.
Ryan placed one hand on her arm, holding it, and the other twined firmly around her waist, mostly succeeding in being proper. Mostly. "And uuuuuup we go," he drawled, standing with her and supporting her weight easily. "All right there, or should I pick you up?" Oh don't do that, part of him said. You pick her up and you might not want to put her down properly.
Becka didn’t even really hear his assurance that it would be special, just focused in that moment on getting herself up. She stayed still for a moment, though when he asked that she made to move a step forward. “‘m good. Can walk,” she insisted. Her arm slid off his shoulders, though, with him being so much taller than her, and she started toward the exit.
Ryan walked with her. He would make sure she got to her room and took the meds and water. And besides, they would blame him if she stumbled and fell over the railing on the way to her room. This should help patch her mistrust of him, even if it was damn hard. "Easy does it," he said, holding the door open for her.
It was probably a good thing that Ryan was walking with her because as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she really wasn’t doing a very good job at walking in a steady straight line, and having him next to her was doing wonders at helping that. “‘m good,” she repeated as she went through the door of the library and turned for the stairwell right next to it. Oh God, stairs. She studied them with a faintly sickened expression before biting the bullet and starting up them. And oh, it made her feel even more dizzy, but she didn’t stop, damned determined to make it up them on her own - or at least without falling completely against Ryan. She leaned against the wall next to the door when she reached the top, the cool wall feeling good against the warm skin of her cheeks.
Ryan had a moment of intense concern when she started up the stairs. It couldn't be called panic or fear, because those were things that were more concepts than anything to him. It was perhaps as close as he came to such things, for as she started up, he could just see her stumbling, falling, and dying, and him being blamed. If he was going to die, which he of course knew would happen someday, he at least wanted it to be for something he'd done. So he hovered at her side, and sighed to himself as she made it safely to the top.
"Hanging in there?" he asked softly, resting his hand on her lower back in a show of concern.
“Uh huh,” Becka said with a slow nod against the wall. She took a few more seconds before pushing away from the wall and leaning against Ryan as she reached out to open the door leading out onto the balcony walkway. She nearly missed the door handle, but she managed to get her hand on the right path.
She walked with Ryan out onto the balcony, doing her best to move slow and steady so she didn’t do something truly embarrassing like fall down or throw up. As they passed room twenty-one, though, her steps slowed even more, and she looked to the door with a sad and longing expression, wondering if he was in there right now, perhaps sleeping. She wanted to say she was sorry again, to tell him she knew she was being stupid and that she wasn’t upset with him. She didn’t stop to knock, though, just kept moving along toward her own room, feeling like she really needed that aspirin.
Ryan put his arm supportively around her, keeping himself between her and the balcony railing. Just in case, you know. Keeping his nose clean and himself from trouble with this, because honestly it was just what he needed, someone to have a drunken accident. And she was definitely drunk, not quite going on a straight line and slurring her words. Though he could do without that mournful, pining look--really. Ugh. It was nauseating. He wouldn't have let her knock at this point, not wanting to have a weeping drunk on his hands on top of everything else.
"That's it, there you go," he murmured, hand at her back steadying her as they stopped at her door. He wasn't going to mess with this if he was going to be a good boy--no reaching to open her door, or seeing if it was unlocked. He would unlock it if she needed him to, though, as he really wasn't sure she had that much fine motor control at the moment.
As they reached her door, Becka waited for a minute before reaching out to open the door, realizing that she’d locked it, and patting her pockets to try to remember what she’d done with her key. It took another minute before she found it in her sweater pocket. After only a couple tries, she managed to fit the key into the lock, turning it to let her in. She stepped inside, keeping the light off as she moved into her room, not wanting the glare of artificial light.
Because she was suddenly very heated from the journey up the stairs and to her room, not to mention the alcohol coursing through her, Becka tugged her sweater up to take it off, bringing her tank top up with it, creeping up along her ribs before it slipped free of the sweater and fell back in place. She was oblivious to the skin that had been shown or that she hadn’t thanked Ryan and closed the door. She just tossed her sweater aside, then headed toward her bathroom where she’d left the aspirin, filling a cup with a little water from the sink and then shaking two pills out of the bottle.
Ryan let his hand linger on her wrist for a moment, steadying it unobtrusively as she tried several times to open the door. She seemed rather oblivious, and it really wasn't doing any favors for his self control, tempting him to touch just a little more... see if she'd respond, realize. He needed to stop, he thought somewhat blankly. He knew he was treading onto dangerous grou--
Oh, shit. He watched her yank her sweater over her head, saw the sweet curve of a breast--no bra, God, she really had been yanked from bed by everything--and the smooth expanse of skin of her back and stomach. He stayed frozen in the doorway for a long moment, nails digging into the palm of one hand as his fist tightened. Control, control, control. Remember the stocks. Keep your eye on the game.
The words weren't terribly effective, and the covering rumble of thunder gave him so many ideas. The long hunt, he reminded himself. Finally he took another deep breath and padded inside, forcing himself to leave the door open. He'd be less likely to do something if the door was open. "If you drink a whole glass of water it might help with a potential hangover."
Oblivious to Ryan’s internal dilemma, Becka put the pills in her mouth and brought the cup to her lips, tipping her head back as she drank them down. She grimaced at the statement Ryan made, but somewhere in the back of her mind behind the fog the alcohol had put there she knew that Ryan was right, and so she filled the cup up with water and took it out of her bathroom. “Potential?” she said with a short laugh, sitting on the edge of her bed with her back to the wall next to her bathroom door. “Don’t think it’s potential at this point,” she added after taking a sip of her water.
It helped to take slow sips of the water, she thought, a little bit of that fog clearing away with each sip. “Thanks for helping me get up here,” she said slowly, careful to get the words out right when she was still not thinking quite clearly.
"Yes, well, some people are lucky and do not suffer from hangovers," Ryan said a trifle dryly, watching her every move carefully and staying very still himself. If he moved too much, he would end up nearer to her, and he knew his limits. They were closer than he liked at this point.
"No problem," he lied easily. "I'm happy to have been able to help." He tilted his head slightly. "Are you going to be all right?" He asked.
Becka closed her eyes and tipped her head back against the wall, sighing softly. “Don’t think I’m gonna be that lucky. My luck ran out a few months ago,” she murmured without opening her eyes. She was feeling so very sleepy now. “Jus’ one bad choice after another. Dunno if I can trust my choices anymore.” She had no idea she was saying any of this out loud, far too out of it and slipping toward unconsciousness.
“Oh? Uh huh, yeah,” Becka agreed, though she didn’t actually know what she was agreeing to at that point. She knew she was on her bed, and she wanted to lay down, but it seemed like that would just take way too much effort, so she just stayed put.
Too bad she didn't seem the sort to choose to make someone jealous. Ryan knew he only wanted her to do so because he didn't want to get in trouble again so soon. He'd rather lay her down now and fuck her hard just like he wanted right now, regardless of her feelings. Though mind games were fun and he could imagine the look on that boy's face if he came across them, her writhing on his cock.
He took a deep breath, shivering and feeling his cock throb in the tightening confines of his pants. "Maybe stop thinking and just do," he told her with remarkable aplomb and control, though from the way she was sliding faintly to one side told him she probably couldn't even hear him.
Just do it. Let her pass out and take her, his body urged. He dug his nails painfully into his hand again, wanting to touch himself at least. God he hated being good. And he hated her for being such a fucking temptation.
"Lay down, Becka, and sleep," he told her, moving a little closer, keeping his eyes on her face and not those damn bare legs. Or those braless breasts.
“Is what Adam says,” Becka said with a sleepy smile and clear fondness. She was gonna try to do that. Isn’t that why she’d gone and got herself drunk? It wasn’t so bad now, now that her mind was so fuzzy she just wasn’t really thinking much. She kinda thought that if she drank in a better mood it might even be fun. Maybe with Leandro sometime. She had fun with Leandro.
Lay down and sleep, yeah that sounded like a good idea. At the instruction, she started to move, dropping her half-full cup of water over the edge of the bed before crawling up toward her pillows. She curled up there, not even bothering to cover up with her blanket. “Mmhmm, sleep,” she murmured, slipping further toward it.
Ryan flipped half the blanket over her, letting his hands smooth it over her as he tucked her in. It was a dangerous indulgence, but that little bit he couldn't help. There was little she or anyone could call him on with that. Thunder rumbled outside and the wind blew in the open door, reminding him to be cautious.
He picked up her cup and mopped up her spill with a towel from her bathroom, grabbing two more aspirins and and refilling the cup. He set them where she would see them when she woke, and wrote a short note.
Becka, Hope you feel better when you wake. Take these and drink another glass when you get up. I'll come see how you are later.
Ryan
Leaving it as well, he finally made himself leave, shutting the door behind him.