It was a special day for you. Personally, you would even call it a milestone: the day you made your girlfriend your bitch, pardon the language.
In all seriousness however, you were tired of her constant teasing and shameless public flirting. No matter the place or time, Marceline could frankly care less.
Whether it was slowly trailing her finger down your spine all the way down to the hemline of your pants in front of Finn and Jake, the former of whom was completely oblivious, thank goodness. Or talking dirty to you in Lady Rainicorn's presence, who for the record hissed at every single one of Marceline's foul notions. Or even when the two of you were with Lumpy Space Princess, and her gossipy mouth no less, Marceline would not quit her games.
Tonight though, you were dead-set on getting her back. All you want to do is give her a taste of her own medicine, then, and only then, will she know to stop. Hopefully.
If there was one thing Marceline hated more than losing, it was backing down from a challenge without even trying at all. You knew that if you played your cards right, literally, you'd have her for sure.
"You want to do what?" The vampire could hardly believe her pointy ears. "Come again, princess?"
Oh, you wouldn't be the one doing any of that tonight. You hold back your devilish grin. "You heard me."
"Yeah, but I'd love to hear it again," she retorted. "I like the way it rolls off your tongue." There it is again, that tone. It tickles the back of your neck and causes you to shift your legs slightly, but you're determined to stay poised.
"I want to play a game of…" you read the box's old label once more, "strip poker." You hope you don't sound like a rattled mess as you feign innocence. You found this game in a local antique shop. You tried your best to disguise yourself as you purchased it, knowing very well what 'strip poker' meant, but there are only so many pink patrons in the Candy Kingdom. You remember the clerk's suspicious eyes on you, but you shake those thoughts away. Now was not the time to be distracted. "Loser has to bake for the other."
Marceline bursts into hysterical laughter and you're sure it resounds throughout the whole castle. Thankfully though, you've sent everyone home, guards included, specifically for tonight's events. It's a risky decision, but if anything were to happen, you knew Marceline, who is still clutching her sides as her body racks with amusement, would protect you regardless.
"Oh geez, I'm shaking in my boots Bonnie! Please don't make me bake! Anything but that—"
"Naked," you finish.
Her laughter is cut short as she eyes you incredulously, wondering if you're actually being serious about all this. "Bonnie, do you even know how to play poker—"
"Scared?" You cut her off with a taunt, knowing it's a sure way to get her riled up.
"Ha! You wish. Bring it on Bonnie, I can't wait to taste your cake," she flashes a wink at you as she licks her lips. She's trying to throw you off, but there's no way she's winning. She's fallen right into your trap.
In all honesty, the main reason the game caught your attention in the first place was because of its vintage design: two detailed cans of whipped cream with a joker in the center of the box's lid. The first time you read the rules however, you immediately scoffed and threw the box aside. 'Such distastefulness,' you thought, although you knew it was a perfect way to pass the time during those… late nights with Marceline, to say the least. You hid it from her, trying to save yourself the embarrassment of having to explain why you're in ownership of such a provocative game.
But as the weeks passed and Marceline continued with her banter, you were at your boiling point; you needed your payback. You spent countless hours reading the rules and playing makeshift games with yourself until you finally understood that it was nothing more than counting the cards and weighing the probabilities of each hand based on the number of cards drawn, burned and played. The vampire might have been around for more than a thousand years, probably picked up a few of her own tricks, but you've studied diligently, memorized each cheap gimmick that's going to help you win like the back of your hand. Tonight was the perfect excuse to play.
You don't usually condone cheating, but this is an exception. Marceline needs to be taught a lesson one way or another, and what better way to do that than by humiliating her?
You don't trust her to deal the cards, knowing she'll pull some sort of cheat with the flick of her wrist, so you continue to play dumb as you pretend to clumsily shuffle the deck.
"Today would be a great day to play, Bonnie." She mocks your slow pace, but it's a good sign that she isn't catching on to you. Of course today's a great day to play, Marceline! You're going to lose! You bite your tongue.
You finally deal the deck but before she can turn her cards over, you state the procedures. "Best hand obviously wins, loser takes off an article of clothing." She rolls her eyes at you like you're talking to a two year old. You continue, "Articles of clothing that come in pairs come off as pairs," pointing to her boots, "and lastly, underwear comes off last, no exceptions."
Marceline's lip twitches at your sudden take of playing commander but she's going to have to go by your book tonight. "Ma'am, yes, ma'am," she mocks.
You lose the first round or two of every fresh deck, unable to calculate the probability of each card until you've seen what's already been played, but as of right now, you're in the lead. Marceline has already taken off her boots and socks, in pairs like you stated, and is shirtless, leaving her in her tight, torn jeans and black bra, much to your amusement. Her poker face is damn good, but the fact that she underestimated your ability to play at the beginning has put her in the position she's in now. You opted to wear layers today, so you're still rather unexposed. You've taken off your sweatshirt, socks and slippers but at least you're winning.
"You've got to be kidding me…" You hear her mutter under her breath, frustrated at the cards she holds.
The game has dragged on far too long for your liking so you decide to up the anti. Your eyes shift to the remaining pile of cards and then to what's out on play. You calculate that your pair and king high are enough to beat her hand, which you guess has nothing more than a simple ace high, hence her earlier drone. Your mind's eye is sifting through the old cards and you find that there aren't any other aces in play, so you allow yourself a smirk as you swallow hard.
"I'm getting hungry. Let's finish this; I call all-in." You lock eyes with Marceline's who sits across the bed from you.
In strip poker terms, 'all-in' meant every article of clothing you had on came off if you had the losing hand. And in this case, Marceline would be baking naked for you in a matter of minutes.
"You wish." You aren't even a hundred percent sure that your approximations are as right as you'd like them to be for the kind of stunt you're pulling, but you really just want to see her lose. Naked, yes, but lose nonetheless. "Why don't you just fold your hand then, Marcy? You're second guessing anyway."
She hisses sharply. "Fine, but if we're going all-in, I want the stakes to be higher." You nod at her to continue. She grits her teeth but the edges of her lips tug into a sly smile, "Loser bakes, naked. Winner gets to take pictures."
Oh, this just gets better and better. Now you can't wait to win.
"Deal," you say nonchalantly. Her eyes narrow, as if she were expecting you to call your bluff off and fold. You hear her grunt and her fingers tap against the back of her cards. You take slow, shallow breaths, maintaining the lingering tension.
"Show your cards," she demands, still drumming nervously.
"Excuse me, but you were the one who called higher stakes, you show your cards first, Ms. Bravado." You can already taste the two types of sweet you'll be having tonight.
She chews on the inside of her cheek before saying, "Show cards on three." You comply, and she counts, "3… 2… 1…!"
As soon as Marceline throws her cards down, her eyes flit away and you already know she wasn't very confident in her hand to begin with, but you appreciate that she didn't back down. She's twiddling her thumbs in her lap as you examine and compare what each of you pitched in to the pile. Your eyes shift back and forth in disbelief.
But then you grin.
A beam so crafty and deceitful that you might as well take Marceline's place on the throne in the Nightosphere.
Damn it, you did it!
You giggle excitedly and try to resist the urge to stand up and jump around the bed to gloat, but oh, you just can't contain your excitement.
"Marceline, I won! Ha! In your face!" It's rather out of character to be presenting yourself this way, but you've prepared this strategy for weeks, you deserve to give yourself a bonus. You pick up your hand of cards and boastingly wave them in her face from where you loom over her. Indeed, Marceline had nothing but an ace high to play with and you hear her groan as she crosses her arms tightly in front of her chest, so ashamed that she can't even bear to face you. You kneel down and lightly position yourself in her lap as she continues to find something more interesting to look at on the wall. You feel her cool skin slowly becoming clammy underneath you, but you don't mind; you're too far in euphoria to care.
You place your cards down to reach up at her unusually warm face. The heat that radiates between your palms and her cheeks tingles beneath your touch. In the time you've known her, you've only caught small glimpses of Marceline's shyness, seeing as her actual personality is the complete opposite. Times when she's called out for being wrong or when the moments she's put into are so deep in emotional turmoil do the tips of her ears become slightly discolored with a sudden rush of undead blood. However, as you turn her blazing face towards you, you are rewarded with a sight that is completely new to you.
Her cheeks are scorched with a color that clashes harshly with her regularly grey skin: between the violet of a plum and the reddest cherries in an orchard, you find Marceline to be blushing rather intensely.
She tries to shake her face free from your grasp, but you're too entranced in your findings that you refuse to let go. Her teeth show as she wears a barred frown, indicating her disapproval to both her loss and her obvious rosiness.
"Are you happy?" She scowls and you find it adorable that she can be such a spoiled sport. You kiss her lightly where the heat transfers onto your lips. "Ugh, get off, let's get this over with." She tries to hover but you throw your hands behind her to hang onto the headboard to keep the both of you grounded.
You reach for a small lock of her hair and you twirl it between your fingers. "I just wanted you to stop teasing me in front of our friends," you lower your voice to a husky decibel, "save it for our private time." You send her a sugary smile and the corners of her mouth try their best not to curl. "Don't be upset." You kiss her nose and she finally cracks a smile.
"Could've just asked, Bonnie." She's obviously joking; simply asking is not enough for Marceline. "I'll be good next time." Her tongue slithers out and licks your cheek. Her boldness is back you notice, that's too bad.
All traces of her coolness are practically slapped off when you trail your finger along her jawline and say, "But as of right now, since you're so fond of being an exhibitionist, I'm sure you wouldn't mind continuing our little game in the kitchen, no?"
Her breath hitches as she feels you let go of the headboard and crawl off of her. You walk towards your dresser, keeping an eye on her to make sure she doesn't dart out the window without her shirt on. You sift through it before you find what you're looking for: a camera. A thin smirk splits across your face as you slowly pull it out and you see her cheeks tint once more.