Rick found himself facing a conundrum. He was, by all means, trapped in the castle. And the reason why was not by any direct act from the Earl, but because of Monica. If he wanted to just take a stroll through the streets outside the fortress’ walls, the feline would undoubtedly follow, and that, in turn, would cause things to escalate.

It made sense. The feline was like its own tiny nuclear device, and everyone was keenly aware she was the one with the finger hovering over the button. If things went off the rails, Rick could attempt to use the collar to restrain her. But as far as he understood, even if he wanted to use the feature, its power would definitely be not enough to do the job.

Not that Rick would have trusted the approach, even if it did. He could ball her, but that would be a severe breach of trust. So the pokeball the Earl had gifted him remained tucked away and well out of accidental reach of anyone.

So, with his own options of mobility snipped by his own hand, Rick was left with a singular thing he could do to spend time.

“This is a…?”

Sitting cross legged on the massive bed with baby-making themes that had been carved throughout, he held out an item in front of her.

“Shirt.”

Monica nodded as he held out the item in front of her. “Good.” Rick nodded, pulling out the next item. “This is a…?”

“Shirt.”

“Pants.”

“Shirt.”

“Pants.”

“Shirt.” Monica grabbed the denim piece, pushing one arm through the pant leg until her furry claw popped at the end. “Shirt.”

Rick quirked a brow. “Head?”

She looked down at the pants, then frowned. “Shirt.” She declared, extending a claw and moving it toward the zipper, lowering it carefully. “Head, here.”

The brow rose further. “Smell?”

She frowned, sniffed, then sighed. “Butt.” With a grumble, she pulled her arm out and tossed the thing at him. “Pants.”

“Good.”

Legs crossed, she gave him a look. Her ears perked and pointed themselves at the door, then at Rick. And she smirked as she slowly licked her lips. The feline began leaning towards him.

“No sex.”

The quick proclamation halted her advance. Huffing, she crossed her arms in resignation. “Monica no sex. Rick no teach.”

“Come on… Monica.”

“Riiiick.” She replied with the same tone, rolling her eyes at him.

“You need to learn more words, you know, so we can talk.” Rather than hope the words stuck, he pressed the feeling of what he wanted to convey.

The look on her face flattened, even less amused than before. She shook her head and crawled towards him, one claw toppling him onto his back despite his best struggle. “Monica teach Rick.”

He sighed. “Word?”

“No word.” She pressed down on him, knocking the air out of his chest. “Teach.” She kept pressing.

Rick frowned, concern growing as he was having a harder time breathing the more weight she put down on him. With a grunt of effort, he grasped her furry wrist with both hands and pushed back. She reacted by putting more weight, and Rick was left straining. Concern trickled through. Heaving in as best he could, he pushed the wrist sideways and off of him.

With her being someone over two meters tall and built like an Amazonian goddess, her weight hadn’t really been displaced as much as Ricks. He’d managed to escape but Monica hadn’t really worried too much, shifting to pin him back down. “Monica!”

“Rick no hurt. Monica teach.” She declared, steadily increasing the pressure again. There was a catty grin as he struggled to break free again.

This time he didn’t hold back, tucking his knees against his chest and pressing his hips upwards. His arms might not be able to lift her, but his legs certainly had at least enough to make it easier.

“Good.” She nodded once he escaped, catching him and pinning him down with her claw once more. “Again.”

“Oh come on!” He raised his knees once more, pushing her off and rolling off the bed onto his feet. “Monica, stop.”

“Teaching now, rest later.” She purred, eyes shining as she crawled from the bed. She kept herself to all fours, claws silently pressing against the rug, stalking him.

Monica’s eyes glimmered with amusement but there was determination there as well. Rick felt something fearsome in the air, dangerous, sharp. His breath caught in his throat as he took several steps back. What was she doing? What was she trying to teach him? His eyes darted around the room.

“Bad!”

She pounced, claws pinning him against the wall and hammering the air out of him. The move had been so fast he’d barely registered himself being standing at one moment and slammed against the rocky surface the next. Several somethings inside his chest strained, but hadn’t snapped. “Bad bad.” Monica admonished, pulling back enough to let him breath and cough, but not enough to let him leave the wall.

“Rick.”

She poked his forehead, then pointed at herself. “Good.” She poked his forehead, then pointed at the rest of the room. “Bad bad.”

“I’m really not a fan of getting beat up for a lesson.” He pushed her back, the feline relented and let him stand on his own wobbly legs. “Would you prefer it if I taught you that way?”

She might not have understood what he said exactly, but there was enough heat in his voice to make her frown. Her next words came out with a growl that shook the room. “Monica teach Rick.” She declared, flatly. “Monica no hurt Rick. Rick hurt Monica.”

“What!?”

He ducked out of the way right as she pounced. The feline bounced off of the wall, pinning him to the ground. “Bad.” She stated, pressing down on him and driving the air from his lungs. Rick kicked upwards and freed himself, rolling, and yelping in surprise as she backhanded him. There was just enough force behind the gesture to send him rolling, and she pounced again.

There was barely any space to really move or escape, Rick shoved against the bed to avoid getting pinned again, scrambling to his feet and ducking just as Monica flew over him. The feline bounced against the opposite wall like it was nothing. Her next attack came faster than Rick could move, he was pinned against the wall with a definite thud.

She didn’t talk, pressing against him until he kicked her away and stumbled again. The process was a simple game of cat and mouse. Rick being the mouse, trapped in a box with a supernaturally powerful cat. His attempts to make her stop fell on deaf ears, she was serious, and that was starting to bring an edge of concern. Not enough to attempt to force her to stop, but enough he had to wonder where Dia was right about now. His biggest fear was that Monica wouldn’t hold back, that one of these pounces would bring her true strength to bear. Rick had no illusions about the situation, she could crush him like an over-ripe grape.

With each successive escape, she would increase the force just a little, with each dodge she would move just a fraction faster than before. Rick was finding himself quickly being pushed harder and harder, and Monica was getting more serious.

“Rick hurt Monica.” This time she pinned his left arm and chest against the ground, leaning over and looking into his eyes sternly. “Hurt Monica, now.”

“No.” With a growl, he tried to shove her off. This time she didn’t let him, increasing the pressure. “Monica.”

“Hurt Monica.”

“No.”

Her scowl deepened, placing more pressure. “Hurt.”

“No!”

He returned the glare, heaving air as best he could with an increasingly compressed ribcage. His breaths were coming in shallow, and the pain was starting to move past being merely discomfort.

“Rick!” She said, growling. She was growing angry.

The pressure was cutting his breathing short, his lungs were starting to strain, his beating heart was hammering away faster, and it wasn’t calming down. Cold sweat began to run down his back, eyes widening. He was drowning.

“ENOUGH!”

His voice came out hard, carried by more than just the air in his lungs.

Monica yanked her claws away as if scalded, anger evaporated instantly and now her gaze was full of confusion and concern. Ears flat, her tail hung limp as Rick collapsed on the floor, heaving air and clenching a fist against his chest.

With his eyes fixated on the floor. “Breathe.” He spoke to himself, inhaling deeply. “Breathe.” It was a struggle, his heart wanted to explode out, his body was tense like a coil. “Breathe.”

“Rick?”

The hand touched his shoulder softly, concern washing through the bond. He didn’t shrug her off, but he’d certainly felt tempted. “I’m… I’m ok.” He lied, focusing on the now, on the here, on the cold stone floor and the hard surface against his hand. Irene had warned him it might happen. He just hadn’t expected it after over a month without problems. “I’m ok.”

She didn’t wait further, pulling him onto her lap and hugging him against her. “Sorry.” She whispered, rubbing her face against his shoulder. “Sorry.”

Undetected by either of them, the room’s door closed without a sound.