rough touch
rough touch | accepting
10. My muse wraps their hands tightly around your muse’s neck.
This was her favourite part of coming back to the Academy. There was something really fun about the chance to teach the newbies how to fight — and it also taught them very early on that if they were going to piss her off, they better do it from a distance. She studied the class intently, looking for the right recruit.
“All right,” Maria said, stepping up to the front of the class and readjusting her ponytail. “Now that we’ve gone over some basic self defense, we’ll work with a partner. I’ll need a volunteer.” She grinned widely, all her teeth showing, and they froze. Perfect.
“Simmons! Front and center.”
The young woman froze and pointed at herself. “Me? But I’m not going to be a field agent.”
Maria just stared at her, crossing her arms and letting her grin sharpen into a smirk. “You are in this class, aren’t you? Which means you’ll be learning. And today, you’re demonstrating. Chop chop, Simmons, time’s a wasting.” She waved the younger woman forward impatiently, tapping her foot against the floor. “You’ll be fine, I haven’t ended a class with less recruits than I started with in years.”
The way they all froze was gratifying. “Now attack me,” Maria said. “I’ll defend, and attack, and show you how to do the same.”
Simmons lunged hesitantly, and it was the work of seconds to brush her hands away. Maria leaned in, and wrapped her hands around Simmons’ throat. “When you get close, someone can get their hands on you,” Maria lectured. “If someone’s got you in a chokehold, bring your hands up between their arms, grab their wrists, and force them away.” She raised an eyebrow when Simmons didn’t move, waiting until she did before letting go. “Good job. Practice with each other. Once you’ve got the hang of this, we’ll move on.”
