The Green-Eyed Monster

Deborah Channing smiled toothily into the camera, her blonde hair gleaming gently as her lips dripped poison. "I'm here at the Metro City Waste Reclamation Plant where moments ago Metro Man apprehended serial criminal, Megamind, as he attempted to flee from justice. After a brief chase, Megamind was found cowering behind a chemical vat while trying to summon reinforcements from his robotic army. As residents well know, this is standard fare for our resident villain, who has been kidnapping the same woman for almost nine years running. Police officials say he will likely do so again in just 9 days for the city's Fourth of July celebration. Is our least favorite megalomaniac becoming mega-predictable? One thing's for sure, he may make the rest of Metro City shiver when he walks by, when it comes to Megamind, this reporter has ceased to be afraid. This is Deborah Channing, KRMCB, Channel 9, signing off."

The little red light above the camera disappeared as Steve lowered it to his side. "Oh yeah," he said, grinning at her. "I think you got him."

Roxanne stared in disbelief at the TV screen where Deborah Channing was gazing worshipfully up into Metro Man's frozen smile. She had taken the day off from work—no one even bothered asking her to come in on holidays anymore—and gotten all her Fourth of July errands out of the way early. Megamind rarely picked her up before eleven. Then she had gone home and spruced herself up in case she was caught on-camera before settling down to wait. And wait. And wait some more. She actually fell asleep around four and when she woke up still in her apartment she'd thought she was dreaming for a minute. Finally around six she had turned the TV on out of sheer boredom. What she saw shocked her into silence for the first time since her college days.

It was hard to articulate exactly what she was feeling as she stared at the screen. Surprised, angry, humiliated, vengeful, but the one that swam to the top was…hurt. Had she seriously been replaced by a blonde? Why? Wasn't she an exciting enough hostage? Was Megamind getting tired of her? Would she never be kidnapped again?

Then she gave herself a mental slap. This was no time to panic—this was good! No more kidnappings mean she could finally finish a full work week. She'd be able to plan vacations. No more being suspended by harnesses or getting volcanic ash in her hair. No more being forced to listen to witless banter. No more of Metro Man's garlic breath. No more Megamind.

She gave an angry huff and switched off the TV. She didn't care if some alien with an ego complex had finally chosen a new target—of course not. That was laughable! What was obviously the issue was that Megamind had thrown her over for a talentless bottle-blonde in a push-up bra! It was irritating. Yes, irritating. She was irritated, which was a perfectly normal reaction and not indicative of Stockholm's Syndrome. Did Megamind seriously prefer some overly made-up, barely-graduated amateur to her?

Roxanne froze. Maybe that was it. Maybe she was getting too old for him. She grabbed a hand mirror and examined her face closely. Were those lines around her mouth? She threw it down, disgusted with herself—until she remembered this was all Megamind's fault. Stupid alien—not content with destroying her social life, he had also decided to ruin her self-esteem. Ooh—when she saw him again she was going to give him a piece of her mind!

If she saw him again.

It was well over a month later that Roxanne finally awoke tied to a table. Well—loosely chained to a table, a manacle around her waist kept her from sliding more than a few inches but let her shift enough that she didn't become uncomfortable. Someone, presumably Minion, had placed a blue and white striped pillow under her head. She sat up, purposely ignoring a tiny relieved voice in the back of her head, and scanned the room for her captors.

Across the room, Megamind was peering anxiously up at some kind of giant ray gun that had been suspended from the ceiling. Minion was descending a ladder, looking resigned. "Yes, it's definitely the power couplings; I'll have to go out and get some more, Sir."

"Drat—what horrible timing. At least we haven't called Metro Man yet—he's always so smug when something malfunctions."

"Well, today's the day we wipe that smugness right off his face, right, Sir!"

"Oh, yes, today is a day that he will certainly rue!" Megamind replied malevolently.

"Well, I'm going to be at least an hour stealing new couplings, do you want me to knock out Miss Ritchie again before I leave?" Minion asked, glancing over to where their captive was glaring lasers at his boss.

Megamind shook his head, his eyes struggling to meet her death glare. "Oh no, Minion, I can certainly handle one nosy reporter. Besides, I have the spray if Miss Ritchie becomes…troublesome. Now, hurry Minion; I don't want to have to do this all again tomorrow!"

Minion sighed and scuttled out the door.

Megamind turned and smiled his most evil smile. "Well, Miss Ritchie, you're awfully quiet today." She continued to glare at him, refusing to banter. "Evil, irresistible supervillain got your tongue?" he asked. She snorted derisively, intensifying her scowl. He fiddled with his cape as her eyes bored into him. "Oh, what's your problem?" he finally snapped at her.

"Oh me, I'm fine—totally fine, wonderful in fact," Roxanne replied, sarcasm bleeding from each word.

Megamind looked a little unsure. "All right then…good."

"And how are you?" Roxanne asked, deadly sweet. "Kidnap any other trashy, spray-tanned blondes lately? I'd hate to be here taking up your valuable time when you could have a playboy bunny tied to a table instead."

"Is this about Deborah?" he asked intuitively.

"Oh Deborah—why would this have anything to do with Deborah? I love Deborah; Deborah is great. I was just saying the other day how if you ever need someone to strip down for a sorority car wash, Deborah is your girl."

"You're saying her name a lot—" Megamind nervously observed.

"Am I? Don't you like Deborah's name? I mean, obviously you do. You probably like a lot of things about Deborah. I can think of two things right off the bat!"

Megamind looked as though he were struggling with something. He finally turned it around in his brain to the point where he could spit it out, incredulously. "Are you jealous!"

Roxanne paused. Blinked. Then exploded. "No!"

He smiled a wide, smug, delighted smile. "You are—you're jealous. You don't like sharing me with other women!"

"I am not jealous. That is ridiculous." Oh God, how could she be jealous of Megamind. And how dare he point it out if she was—especially in that disgustingly pleased tone of voice.

"Your lips say no, but your eyes say yes."

"Wanna hear what my fist has to say?"

"Oooh, feisty!" he grinned. "But I'm afraid you're only proving my case. "

Abruptly she realized she was furious. The gloves were off—she wanted to hurt him. "What's there to be jealous of? No woman would have you!"

She saw hurt flash in his eyes and felt a moment of satisfaction; then he turned his nose up at her. "You may be surprised to know that a lot of women are attracted to brilliant, blue supervillains. Deborah seemed to be very interested in getting to know me better."

Rage rippled through her brain, but she forced it back. "Well, I guess some people will do anything for a story," she replied nastily.

Megamind scowled, finally angry. "I am a very popular public figure; I even have a fan club… an all-female fan club!"

"Yeah, have you ever even talked to any of these women?" she asked mockingly.

He sputtered, "That is none of your business."

She laughed. "Have you ever even held a woman's hand?"

He glared, "Yes!"

"You have not," she shouted, no longer even sure where all this was coming from. "You are the most evil, disgusting excuse for a creature that nature ever produced and no matter what you did, no woman in her right mind would ever let you near her!"

"You don't know anything about me!" he shouted right back.

Her voice rose to a yell. "Admit it; you wouldn't know what to do with a woman if you had one chained to table!"

He strode towards her, for once managing to look menacing. "Do not provoke me, Miss Ritchie," he hissed at her.

"Or what?" she demanded, her chin tilted up, her eyes burning.

The words seemed to hang in the air, ringing like a challenge.

Megamind stared at her with a strange intensity as he began pulling his gloves off. With one easy leap he climbed up onto the table and yanked his cape off, throwing it to once side.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. Her voice did not shake. It didn't.

He knelt over her legs with a smooth, graceful motion that sent a thrill—of fear, definitely fear—through her body. His slim blue hands framed her face and she felt a sudden surge of dizziness….then he whispered. "I know what to do."

Images began to filter into her mind, odd half-imaginings at first, a blue hand gripping her arm, legs tangling together, the sensation of lips ghosting over hers, a leather-clad hand raking through her hair. Then everything firmed up somehow, and she felt arms encircling her—but Megamind hadn't moved. She stared, entranced, into his unblinking eyes as phantom hands slid down her body, leaving trails of heat everywhere they touched.

They teased her breasts, slid down her legs and back up her thighs. It should have been frightening, but underneath everything she could feel him, his lust for her coloring everything; it seeped into her mind until she felt like her body was on fire. She wanted more of him—wanted his actual hands to slide over her breasts, his actual mouth biting at her neck, but she couldn't articulate anything. She could only moan as imaginary fingers slid against her core, just a teasing little flick, then harder. She gasped, her mouth falling open as they slipped just barely inside her…so close. He was hesitating…why?

"Please," she whispered, gripping his shoulders, "don't stop."

He moaned with her, his eyes closing in concentration as phantom fingers pressed perfectly into her, pumped slowly, as though he could sense exactly what would feel best, then quickened. She was breathing faster, her hands clutching at him as she tried to draw a full breath while her body was being pushed into overdrive. That feeling in her stomach was coiling tighter and tighter as lust poured into her. But there was something else—she couldn't concentrate, but she knew there was more than lust in his mind. Suddenly those imaginary fingers did something very right sending a jolt of pure sensation through her—her hips automatically thrust upward, her back arching as she braced herself with one hand.

For a moment their bodies were aligned, chest to chest, hip to hip. He dropped his forehead down to touch hers, his hands still glued to her face, and like a lightning bolt into her mind, she could feel it all, everything he had ever felt for her, stronger than she could have imagined, and more beautiful. Then he wrenched his head away, calling her name almost helplessly. His eyes snapped open to meet hers—he seemed almost afraid, but they were too far gone to pull back. Without warning her body tightened, spasming around him; he cried out, his hands trembling, and then they both collapsed onto the table, breathing heavily.

She recovered first.

For the first time in a month she felt as if she finally understood everything. She curled around him as his arms weakly enfolded her, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She pressed slow, drugging kisses against his mouth until he couldn't not respond any more.

When she had no more breath left to kiss him, she finally forced herself back. "I'm sorry," she whispered into his ear.

"No, I'm sorry," he replied. "This is all pretty sudden—I shouldn't have—"

Roxanne cut him off with another kiss. "I'm glad you did." She was kissing him again, forcefully. Her hands explored all over him, as much as she could reach, smoothing over the top of his head, his back, even cupping his thin butt and tracing the shell of his ear. She felt as though she couldn't get enough of him. But there was one more thing that needed saying.

Roxanne pulled away slightly, catching his dazed eyes as she rolled to partially pin him in place. "You didn't do this with Deborah," she stated aggressively. It wasn't a question, but it had better be true.

His mouth twisted. "Her, no! I didn't even like her."

She smiled, kissed him again, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. God, she wanted to crawl inside him. She needed to tear his clothes off—why, why, was he always wearing leather? She couldn't even bite him—and she wanted to, she wanted to mark him all over so everyone would know. She couldn't think straight; Roxanne wasn't sure what they would know, but they would certainly know it. One thing she was sure of: she pulled away again, "No more other women. Do you understand?"

He pulled her back to him. "Yes," he murmured against her lips. "Only you…it's always been you." His hands were on her breasts, cupping her through the material. She moaned into his mouth, shamelessly pressing back into him.

Objectively speaking, it wasn't the absolute worst time Minion could have walked in—but it was definitely up there.

"Sir! Oh no, Sir! No! We're not that kind of villains!" The robot-fish stormed over to the table and plucked Megamind off of her like he was lifting a cushion. "I am so sorry, Miss Ritchie. Sir is normally much more controlled than this!"

"Minion, let me go," Megamind instructed forcefully.

"He has a lot on his mind," Minion said sadly, wrapping his arms more firmly around his master.

"No, Minion, it's fine. You can put him down," Roxanne said firmly, tugging at the manacle futilely.

"Miss Ritchie, if I let him go, Sir may attack you again."

"I was not attacking her!" Megamind insisted. "I was—" he cut himself off, his ears going purple.

"Exactly, Sir. For your own good, I think you should stay with me."

"Minion, this is just a misunderstanding. Megamind and I have resolved our differences. He was not hurting me. Can you please take this off?" She gestured speakingly to the chain.

"Miss Ritchie, did Sir give you anything to drink or perhaps spray you in the face with a gas?" Minion asked quietly, giving his Master a very disapproving look.

"Of course not!" Megamind insisted. "Minion, you are embarrassing me, put me down this instant!"

"Honestly, I am not under any kind of influence, Minion. I promise; Megamind and I talked and we've decided that we have a lot in common and now we want to talk some more."

"Yes," Megamind eagerly agreed. "There is much talking to be done, so if you will just set me down Minion, we will postpone this evil plot until tomorrow."

"Well…if you're sure, Miss Ritchie…" Minion said hesitantly.

"I'm sure," Roxanne replied.

The moment Megamind was back on his feet he raced to her side and inserted a key into the lock. The manacle sprang open and Roxanne wasted no time in hopping off the table and straightening her clothes. How had her skirt gotten turned sideways…?

There was a slightly awkward silence while Minion stared suspiciously at both of them and Megamind looked as though he wasn't quite sure where to go next. Roxanne reached over and laced their fingers together, giving him a significant look. He sprang into action.

"Right, Minion, while you are finishing up the death ray, I'll just go show Roxanne…um…my…uh…"

"Your room," Roxanne said firmly.

"Yes," Megamind said, a blush suffusing practically his entire head. "My room."

"You're both going to Sir's room…to talk?" Minion confirmed.

"Yes," Megamind replied nervously. He began to edge them towards the door in the least subtle way imaginable.

"But..." Minion said as they exited, sounding confused, "the bad guy doesn't get the girl."

Roxanne smiled over her shoulder, a naughty little smirk. "I guess that depends on what kind of girl we're talking about."