AU Shenanigans

[exitthewallflower]

It's been six months since Cass disappeared. She's the first person I've known to do that and I still can't quite believe it. It hurts. She was family. A bat. And a friend. And every night since then, I've been killing myself to cover her turf and mine. Maybe literally now.

I was tired, too tired to be in the neighborhood I was in and I should have known better. But the deal was going down and I had to stop it before those drugs got on the street. One the good side? The bad guys are all tied up and the drugs were destroyed. On the bad side, I'm on the nearest roof losing consciousness after one too many hits after one too few nights' sleep. I remember calling the bust into the cops right before I remember thinking, "These bricks look really soft. I should lie down."

I don't really remember much after that.

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[exitthewallflower]

I try really hard to stay silent, but in the end it's a losing battle and I let a few little moans and groans out as he works lower on my back. I'm relaxing for the first time in weeks, months, even and I can't even stop to think about who I'm with or why. I just am and I focus on that.

After months, almost a year of poking and snarling, we're finally quiet and relaxed around each other. And I'm half naked with his hands all over me. "Kaine?" I'm not sure he can hear me with my face half in a pillow. I don't even know exactly what I want to ask him.

"Are you okay with this?"

Am I taking advantage of this temporary good will between us?

[badtotheclone]

That's a very, very good question and I'm not sure how to answer that. I'm not not-okay with it. I'm not freaking out or upset or angry or anything like that. In fact, if I'm honest, it's nice. It's nice to do this for someone, to touch her in a way that's selfless and, dare I say, kind?

Okay, on a more primal side, she's nice to touch. I like touching her and even if my body is reacting in ways that I'm not necessarily thinking about directly, she's hot and it's nice to touch hot women.

"Yeah," I grunt, rubbing along the inside of her thighs, just a bit higher than her knee. "Are you?"

[exitthewallflower]

"Yeah." And honestly, I am. I shouldn't be. I've had the crap beat out of me and I woke up in the penthouse of a guy I can barely have a civil conversation with but... maybe that's it. We're not talking anymore. There's just relaxing vibes and a soothing physicality to everything that doesn't require actual talking.

Soothing and something else I'm not quite sure I want to identify.

"Don't stop, okay? I mean, if you don't mind."

[badtotheclone]

"Won't," I reassure her, relieved that she doesn't want me to stop. That's kind of a scary thought but I try not to think about it too much. We're enjoying each other's company and that's not a bad thing, is it? I'm going to focus on that instead of anything else.

"Just... tell me if an area needs extra work," I add, moving down to massage her calf muscles.

[exitthewallflower]

My first thought is a thought I should NOT be having right now. Just... not appropriate at all. Not with him leaned over me, hands sliding over my skin. I am suddenly and ACUTELY aware of how little I'm wearing.

So I regroup. I take a slightly shuddering breath and look over my shoulder for a moment. "My entire body's been a mess for awhile. My physical therapist would kick my ass probably. But my back's the worst." He probably knows all about why. The scars are right there and Cass did tell him a lot. Even if it wasn't about the same Barbara, it's still valid enough. Figures the one thing I never talk about with anyone is the one thing I bring up with him.

[badtotheclone]

I nod, knowing what she means. Just because she can run and jump and fight again doesn't mean she's not paying a price for it. Probably a pretty hefty price. Sometimes I forget the Bats are just human. Very impressive humans, but just human.

"Just tell me higher, lower, left or right," I say. My hands move back up her body to her back, ghosting over her ass. I tell myself it would be weirder if I completely avoided it, that would make it an issue. This way it's just no big deal, right?

Right. So I begin massaging again, thumbs pressing hard into the muscles on either side of her spine. I kind of hope she'll make those moaning noises again.

[exitthewallflower]

It feels so good, my vision almost whites out and I can't even describe the sound that comes out of my mouth. I just... I don't want him to stop and I'm getting to the point where I might need him to or I'm going to say or do something we're going to regret. I mean, his hands were on my ass, that's... was that intentional? Was it... I don't know, is it something he wants?

Worse, is it something I want?

But I don't say anything other than, "Lower, please across my hips and back." That sounds perfectly normal, right?

[badtotheclone]

Lower. Okay, I can do lower. I'm a big, scary vigilante and I can totally massage Barbara a bit lower, right? My hands move to her hips first, reaching around almost under her to her hip-flexors and then to the sides, pressing in right where her femur meets her pelvis, then moving around back again.

I'm careful not to go too low though, working her tailbone, just under the waistline of her panties, but not much lower. That's where she wants me to stop, right? She wouldn't want me to go any lower, would she? Do I want to go lower?

From how I'm reacting to the sounds she's making, my body certainly wants her too. I'm glad she's face down because if she could see me right now, it would be very awkward considering the tent forming in my shorts.

[exitthewallflower]

I am now beyond putty. The way it feels to have his hands on my hips, the way he's just teasing the edge of my underwear, I'm breathing heavier and it has absolutely nothing to do exercise. At least, not the kind I'm used to. And unless he's, like, a monk and I KNOW he's not this probably is hitting the danger zone for him, too. I can't even look at him over my shoulder anymore because whatever is on my face probably screams things that are bad and wrong and just not allowed.

I don't know how, but I manage to clear my throat a little before I speak. Even so my voice is not exactly how it usually is. "Is this still just a massage?"

[badtotheclone]

I kind of hate her for asking that question, mostly because I'm not sure how to answer it myself. I also don't know if I want it to be just a massage or not. Yes? No? Maybe?

If I was smart I'd take my hands off of her and think it over for a moment. But I'm not smart and the more I touch her the more I don't want to stop. The fact that she's asking means she's not sure, right?

"It's... good," I tell her, which I hope answers the question. I hope it's answer enough.

[exitthewallflower]

"Very good." Did I say that too fast? Probably. But this is point of no return, right? I mean, something's got to give really soon and I don't know which way I want it to go. My body has some definite ideas, but my head's still mostly in charge and like always, it wants answers. "Good, but not exactly massage anymore. Which isn't bad, it's just... Do you want more than good?"

Okay, so my brain isn't as much in charge as I'd like it to be.

[badtotheclone]

Again with the questions. I know they're important to ask. I do. That doesn't mean I have to dislike it any less. I'd rather just... not stop and see what happens but I suppose clarifying on what we want is good. That way one of us won't be assuming the other wants something they don't.

"Probably shouldn't, but I do."

It's an honest answer, which itself is kind of surprising, but it leaves it open for her to accept or reject as she chooses. If yes? We both get something we want. If not? We don't do what we'd probably both regret later.

[exitthewallflower]

I do something I don't do very often. I tell my screaming brain to take a hike. It isn't easy, but right now I'm lonely, I'm angry, I'm tired and every time this frustrating man touches me I don't feel any of that. Probably shouldn't is pretty much the theme of every interaction I've had with this guy. So why stop now?

Taking another deep breath, I slowly roll myself over, feeling the t-shirt ride up my abdomen and not caring one bit. I make myself look at his eyes as I lean up and forward, as much into his space as I can manage. My rational conscience can have the rest of the night off.

"So do I."

[badtotheclone]

She turns around and catches me a bit by surprises. Somehow it's a bit harder to acknowledge all this while looking her in the eyes. It was a lot easier when she was just a really nice body I was massaging with an ass I badly wanted to get my hands on. But it's like she's thrown a gauntlet down now and I'm kinda pissed by that. But I also really don't want to stop.

So I pull her close and kiss her. Hard. Heated. As if to say "Fine!" with actions instead of words. One hand reaches down to grab her ass and pull her close, practically onto my lap. The other threads through her hair, keeping her mouth close as my body heats up and I realize how badly I'm craving this.

[exitthewallflower]

I can feel the pull of bruises and finally relaxed muscles, but I make zero effort to stop him. I don't know what's going on, but I feel like we went from a little smoke to a full-on blaze and I just can't bring myself to care. Not when I can feel, really feel how strong he is when he pulls me close. Not when every inch of me starts to work to find the best way to fit against him so there's no gap, my own hands finding his waist and pulling even as I kiss him back as hard as I can. Not I can feel him through his shorts as well as he can feel me through my shirt and I very, very much want us to be rid of both. I can give as hard as he can take.

Almost everything else with us has been a kind of combat, why should this be any different?

[badtotheclone]

I feel like she's trying to wrestle control of this from me and I refuse to let her have it. Not that I think either of us really has any great amount of control over it to begin with. This is playing with fire personified and I think the blaze is out of control, which makes it so much easier to just give in to it.

I can feel her nipples pressing against me through the fabric of our clothes and I suddenly realize I don't want that. I want to feel her directly against my skin. I don't stop the crushing kiss as I grab the back of the shirt this has on and rip it apart. Along with the satisfying sound of the tearing fabric I can feel her more distinctly. One hand reaches up between us and palms her breast, squeezing it as I rock my hips up against her.

[exitthewallflower]

I am not the most experienced woman when it comes to these things, I get that, but having my shirt literally torn off of me is a kind of turn-on I didn't even know I had until right now. Groaning, I run my hands up his chest and over my shoulders, digging my fingers into the nape of his neck as I kiss him harder. Every move he makes, I find myself matching, rocking back against him as my hands wander back down, pushing his shorts down over his hips. More skin, more contact, just more... everything. I want to feel him the way he's felt me, make him feel what I'm feeling.

But no matter what I do, I can't stop kissing him, I can't pull away. Am I worried that if I do, my rational thought's are going to kick in? I don't know, but I breathe him in like he's oxygen, feeling his lips and tongue against mine, groaning and gasping. But no names, I can't say his name, not like this.

[badtotheclone]

Her lips and her fingers almost feel like they're burning my skin the heat from them is so intense. She matches my aggression and I can't help but be more aroused by that. I like that she's not backing down and I give a growl, low in my throat.

I push her forward, back onto her back, and I lift my my hips so that she can push my shorts down and off if she wants. I'd take my shirt off but I don't want to break the kiss, I don't want to lose that connection with her. I feel like I'm drowning in a haze of passion and pleasure but I'm sure if I stop for a moment good sense will prevail. I don't want good sense to prevail.

[exitthewallflower]

"God, please..." I arch up against him, pushing his shorts down so I can run my hands over his ass, over his hips, and up under his shirt. We've become a study in contrasts, he's got a shirt and no pants, I've got no shirt and just my panties. The wicked part of me doesn't like that so I break the kiss long enough to move my lips by his ear. "Take the shirt off, too." I'm too worked up to even care if I say it like a question or a command.

And if he needs a little incentive, I reach down between us to stroke him gently. It is probably the most gentle thing I've done all night, as slow as his hands on my back had been just a few minutes ago. It's my turn to tease.

[badtotheclone]

I feel my pulse quicken and my cock twitch at the command to take off my shirt. I can't deny it, I like bossy women. When she wraps her hand around me and slowly strokes though, I gasp out loud and hate myself for it. I don't like showing that she can affect me like that, that she has that kind of control over me.

I pull off my shirt and lean back down. A hand goes through her hair and I pull on it, not to hurt but enough to make her head tilt back to expose her neck. I move my mouth along her throat, kisses and nibbles light at first before sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks. She may have me at her mercy with her hand but that doesn't make me helpless.

[exitthewallflower]

There. That's what I wanted to hear, something to let me know that I'm getting to him, too. Not that I was doubting, not while I'm stroking the evidence, but hearing him? I wanted to hear more so I stroke him a little faster, a little harder and I run my free hand over him, using it for leverage so I can push myself up against him.

I ache in a way I haven't in a very, very long time and the hot breath and soft lips on my neck are just making it worse. I could stop him, I'm not thrilled with having to hide the marks, but I don't want to. Each time he kisses me, it goes right through me and I imagine what those kisses would feel like on the rest of my body. I'm breathless, and hot, and scattered and I love it and hate it at the same time.

[badtotheclone]

She grips me harder and speeds her hand up, making me growl both in pleasure and frustration. I don't like being so out of control usually but right now it feels good to have this connection and this pleasure. She likes this too and I think she's getting off on the fact that she's doing this to me.

One arm keeps me propped up while the other moves back to her breast, my hand wrapping around it and squeezing it but avoiding her nipple. My mouth moves down to her collarbone and bites her before licking the same area. I want more, so much more and my body is taught with tension, but I'm forcing myself to go slow. Or at least trying to.

[exitthewallflower]

I don't even recognize the sounds he's pulling from me, except that they're needy and I want him to do more. He's touching and kissing me everywhere except where I really want some attention. My entire body feels as tight as it had been relaxed earlier and I find myself gripping at the short hair on his head and cursing, "Fucking tease." It's so unlike me, but I'm so far past caring.

I bring up one of my legs, running my foot along the back of his leg, inviting him in as much as I can without demanding as I kept up my rhythm. I didn't want to give him too much, but I want him to feel. I want to feel more of those growls against my skin, rumbling and vibrating.

[badtotheclone]

She's getting rougher and more demanding and I love it. I can feel her nails along my scalp as she tugs at my hair. She opens up more under me and I cam feel the heat coming from her and it matches my own need. I want to yank aside the thin cloth that she still has on and thrust myself deep into her and the desire to do so is almost primal.

It's even to make me gasp her name and then swear in frustration at the slip. I almost move into her to cover it up because I know she'll be smug about it.
Instead I wrap my hand a bit tighter around her breast so that I can pinch one of nipples between my thumb and forefinger. It's hard with arousal and I tug on it a bit, loving that I'm doing this to her.

[exitthewallflower]

I bite my lip to keep from smiling when I hear my name on his lips. I didn't even know I was looking for that, specifically, but I can feel my entire body twitch when I hear it. Instead I gasp and squirm under him as he pinches me. It hurts, but in a good way and I groan, tilting my head back so I can arch into his hand better.

I continue moving against him, rolling my hips, momentarily removing my hand from him so I can grind against his hardness, feel him between my legs. I want him there, I'm aching for him, but I'm not going to be the one to make that final move. I don't know why, but I want him to break his control first. It's an entirely different kind of argument we're having, but after hearing my name the way he said it, I want the rest.