I've begun a little story about Raven and Beast Boy. I'll warn you: there's not a whole lot of action. There won't be any fighting. Mostly, there will be talking and thinking and in an as-of-yet unwritten chapter, I believe someone may be asked to pick up a gallon of milk. Nonetheless, due to language and sexuality, the content of this story is really quite mature.
Anyway, I would really like to know what you think of this first chapter. I'm sure there are some issues with grammar and rhythm, as well as with motivation and backstory. If anything about the story seems confusing or out-of-place to you, please let me know. If you do, I'll not only keep the chapters coming, but I'll spruce this one up a bit too.
And finally, in case anyone is wondering, I do, in fact, own the Teen Titans trademark and all related material. Just kidding. I don't. Really, I don't.
The halls of Titan Tower are quiet, and the lights are turned down dim. Robin has taken the active team out, but today, their number is fewer: he is accompanied only by Starfire and Cyborg.
Beast Boy currently resides in the common room, sprawled out upon a couch languidly soaking up the infomercials radiating from the TV screen. Infomercials are all that seem to be on at this time of day, a discovery he's made since a late cable bill has left him and his housemates without anything better to watch. It was agony, at first, the hours marching by with only the testament of outlandish kitchen appliances to fill them, but now, Beast Boy notices, when he groans, it is only out of habit. Apparently, when you are content to do nothing, it makes no difference what your eyes rest upon while you do it.
Upstairs, in the north wing of the Tower, Raven is reading. She does so distractedly, however; though normally it is a hobby she enjoys, at the moment, it amounts merely to an exercise in abstinence, and denial. As she lays in her bed, propped up against a stack of pillows, her knees rub together, and her hips rock. While one hand holds her book against her thighs, the other begins to wander. It goes to her cheek, and scratches it absently; it plays with her earlobe; it brushes her hair out of her eyes. Raven moistens her lips with her tongue, swallows, attempts to read more intently, and her hand continues to wander. It sneaks down along her neck, to the collar of her tee-shirt. The thumb and forefinger grasp the fabric, and tug gently, idly, innocently. Raven clears her throat. The wandering hand grows brazen; the fingers slip beneath the collar and splay out, warming themselves on the smooth skin of her chest.
Involuntarily, Raven draws in a sharp breath, which then stammers out as a little moan of pleasure. The sound startles her, and alerts her to where her hand has gotten to. She angrily removes it, and employs it instead to hurl her book across the room.
"Fuck!" she cries out. She shuts her eyes tight and pulls at her hair to stifle the fevered pleading in her cunt and in her mind. "God damn it," she says, moving her hands from her hair down over her eyes. "God damn it."
It's a terrifying thing for a girl taught to value self-control to realize that that self can be almost impossible not only to control, but to distinguish. Lately, the desire to give in has been growing so intense, so overwhelming, that it consumes her so completely that she can no longer tell where it ends and she begins. I want to, she thinks to herself, I want to, I want to, I want to. And yet she resists, for reasons long ago fuddled by particulars and circumstance.
But for the time being, she's regained her composure. She takes deep breaths.
Down in the common room, Beast Boy yawns. Though he made up his mind that the faint sound of Raven's book crashing into her door was most likely just a belch in the plumbing, if not his imagination, his reverie has nonetheless been broken.
Neither Raven or Beast Boy are aware that the other is in the Tower. Because of this, Beast Boy is surprised to see Raven stepping unashamedly into the kitchen clad only in her tee-shirt and underwear. She ignores the lights and sounds of the television, which is often left on, as she pours a glass of water from the sink. As she drains the glass in big gulps, she still has not noticed Beast Boy watching her over the back of the couch.
"Where have you been?" Beast Boy says at last.
Severely startled, Raven chokes on her water, and it splutters out of her mouth, some spilling down her shirt, some onto the floor, and a tiny bit right back into the glass. Her breathless coughs and wheezes are exacerbated by her reckless attempts to speak.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she finally manages.
"Huh? Oh, Robin put me on suspension, but… but what about you? Everyone's been looking for you!"
"Didn't you read the note I left?"
"Yeah, we read it."
"So what's the problem?"
"Well, all it said was 'Dear Everyone: Fuck off for a while. Love Raven."
"It got the point across, didn't it?"
"Yeah, but… we didn't know where you were going or what was wrong and… we were worried."
"Well, that's too bad. Anyway, I'm fine."
"You're back for good?"
"I don't know."
Raven refills her glass, and takes a sip. "So why are you suspended?" she asks.
"Oh, um, cuz I keep stealing stuff."
"Stealing stuff? From where?"
"Like, when we're fighting bad guys. If I see some candy or diamonds or priceless artifacts lying around, I, you know… take 'em."
Raven smiles cynically. "That's so…"
"So what?"
"Don't take this the wrong way but… that's really cute."
"It's cute that I take things?"
"It fits you."
It's not instantaneous, but Beast Boy does eventually realize what's happened: Raven has complimented him. Well, that's good, he thinks. However, at the same time he can see that the compliment was not without a layer of derision, and he decides that a playful retaliation is in order. "You know what else is cute?" he asks.
"What?"
"The little black cat on your panties."
Raven feels her cheeks burn. She yanks her tee-shirt down over the front of her thighs. "Fuck you!" she says, her voice slightly and uncharacteristically squeaking.
"I wouldn't know how well they fit you, though," Beast Boy continues.
"You're an asshole," says Raven. She considers throwing the glass at Beast Boy, and nearly does, but stops. In her mind she sees the broken glass, she sees that someone will have to clean it up, and she sees that until it is replaced, the household will be short one glass. Nothing else will be accomplished; she will feel no satisfaction.
So she sets the glass down by the sink and backs out of the kitchen, away from Beast Boy. It's a humiliating retreat, and even if there were some way to hide her shame, there would still be none to relieve it. Therefore, Raven doesn't attempt to cover herself. The damage has been done.
Then she is gone, returned to her room, and Beast Boy is alone again in the common room. He sighs, for there is guilt in him now. Not a crippling amount of it certainly, but a piece of a size sufficient to cause him discomfort, though still not quite large enough for him to know that it is indeed guilt he's feeling. Nonetheless, the new worries he's caused himself are articulated quite clearly in his conscience: Did I mess up? Did I go too far? Was I unjustified? Are Raven's feelings really hurt? Does she think less of me now? Can I fix it?
He waits a few minutes before going up to her room to apologize. When he does go, he knocks first. Strangely, he realizes that to do so is an act of restraint. He doesn't want to knock. He doesn't want to wait. But he thinks only for an instant of what he really does want before chasing the notion away. It's just not appropriate, and besides, he's fairly sure that the desire isn't real: to pass through the door uninvited and unexpected, to see her eyes widen with surprise, and then to touch her, hold her, consume her in his arms, to put his nose and lips to her neck, to have her hair in his face.
To hear her breathe in his ear; to hear her breath suddenly, helplessly quicken.
He shakes his head to regain himself. The grip of the thought is gone, but he knows it was there and he knows what it was. Now that it's powerless, though, he regards it merely with suspicion, if not simply with curiosity. That was weird, he thinks.
Raven has not come to the door. She hasn't called "just a second" or even "go away". But Beast Boy knows she's in there, so he decides simply to wait there a moment. Then he will knock again.
And Raven is in there. She is lying on her bed with her head hanging partly over the side. The middle and index finger of her right hand are in her cunt, frantically rubbing her g-spot. She presses her other hand hard over her mouth, muffling the whimpers over which she has no control otherwise, and her breath comes and goes rapidly and laboriously through her nose. It had been relatively slow and steady up until a moment ago when Beast Boy knocked, and then it had quickened, suddenly, helplessly. The motion of her hand became faster then, too, and the strain is proving to be something she is unaccustomed to. Her wrist begins to get tired, but she won't stop, she can't stop, not now, not when it feels this good. Pleasure churns through her body and overwhelms her mind. She feels it tingling all the way down in her toes and the balls of her feet like electric cotton and she feels the boiling, roaring static of dead TV channels pouring out of her ears, and she imagines that soon she will gently, utterly explode like the spores of a dandelion and it will be perfect and effortless, but she holds off because it can't happen yet or else it won't be perfect. So she slows the rhythm of her hand, compensating for speed with pressure. She works in a third finger, and moans into the hand covering her mouth. The static coming from her ears no longer roars, but it's flow remains constant, and when she is ready, she'll be able to make it flood the whole room. But she waits.
In the hallway, Beast Boy knocks again. "Raven?" he calls meekly.
She hears him say her name. The static swells. She nearly explodes.
Still getting no response, Beast Boy grows impatient. "Raven, I know you're in there. Open up."
Raven's fingers creep deeper, deeper than she's ever gone before. The pain is exciting, and Beast Boy's voice is mesmerizing.
Please come in, she thinks. Watch me. See what I'm doing. Let me see you.
"Look, Raven, I'm sorry, okay? I wasn't trying to be mean."
The speed of Raven's hand picks up again, and her body begins to get rigid. Inside, she is filled with electric cotton. Outside, she is being enveloped by static. Everywhere, she is burning.
"I'm just- I'm really sorry, Raven. I hate having you mad at me."
She takes her other hand from her mouth and brings it down to her clit. She doesn't know how loud she's moaning, and anyway, she doesn't care. Tears stream from her eyes: she is about to explode. She is about to be hundreds of tiny, weightless specks swirling away in the wind. Her teeth grind together in convulsions of ecstasy.
"Anyway, I… I want to take you somewhere. I don't know where really, just… out. Just to make it up to you, you know?"
For a moment, Raven's universe is suspended and motionless; she feels like a snowglobe. Her eyes have rolled back, and behind them, she's aware of something sparkling. Then the sparkling turns to crackling, and then to fireworks. The sea of hissing static she floats on becomes turbulent, violent, furious, and she smiles deliriously as it tears her apart. Finally, she explodes. She turns to vapor. She gushes and pours and becomes nothing. It is effortless and perfect.
"Raven, come on! At least say something!"
Even now, his voice is mesmerizing. As she lies in bed now exhausted and quite still, she moves her hands slowly away from her cunt and up her shirt. She trails her wet fingers along her flat stomach to her breasts. As Beast Boy speaks, she gropes them firmly, tickles the nipples and areolas with the nectar on her fingers.
"Raven, please…"
She wants to put her fingers in his mouth. She wants to feel his teeth and tongue. With the door separating him from her, though, she puts them in her own mouth for now, and licks them clean. Maybe some other time, she thinks.
Beast Boy is about to walk away. He feels awful; he believes now that this time, he may have really fucked up. It's not fair, he thinks. I wasn't trying to upset her. I had no idea this would happen. How can this be happening? How the fuck can this be happening?
Dejected, he begins to walk away. He stops, however, when he hears Raven's door open. He turns to see her standing in the doorway, wearing sweatpants now, looking out at him. She appears far from cheerful, but at least she's finally opened the door.
"So when do you want to leave?" she asks.