A/N: Another one shot between our fiesty teenager and the Master of Fear. This is a prelude to another one shot I'll be uploading as soon as I can. This takes place after Professor Crane is fired and adopts the persona of the Scarecrow...and then pays a little visit to his former student. Please review!
Title: Mistress of Fear
Summary: Every mark he had inflicted upon her, every narrow curve and angle on her body, every minute detail of imperfect perfection glistening like precious, rare jewels in the moon's caress. Already he hungered for her again. And soon he would satisfy his hunger…and he would feed on her screams for desert.
Pairing: Scarecrow x OC Mistress of Fear She couldn't sleep. No matter what she tried, no matter how hard she tried, she could not sleep tonight. It was perfectly dark in her room, so the light wasn't the problem; she was alone and had been so for hours; and yet she couldn't let herself slip entirely into the blissful oblivion of sleep. Her eyes were closed, and she felt completely relaxed physically…but her mind was a mess. There was a heavy weight upon her mind, something she couldn't describe and certainly couldn't get rid of. It was almost painful…not quite, but very nearly painful. She moaned softly, head tossing and turning on the pillow. The air in the room was getting heavy and thick, making it hard to breathe. She moaned again; her voice seemed distant to her ears. She felt like she was drugged. She tried to roll over…only to realize she couldn't. There was a body pinning her to the mattress…a body clothed in ragged clothes… She tried to open her eyes, but it seemed she was in fact drugged. There was no getting out of this…not if she couldn't even open her own eyes. She tried to get out from under the body, but both the figure and presence of her mystery visitor were pinning her hard to the bed. She gave a soft noise of protest, trying to use her other senses. Her mind managed to use some fragments of her senses—feeling the rough burlap of the pants against her bare thighs, the soft, almost silky cotton of the shirt; the thin, narrow angle of the hips pressed firmly against hers; the heat of the skin, burning even through the clothes hiding his body; the low, purposeful breathing echoing through the silence of the room, pounding in her ears like the blood rushing through her drugged system. Her eyes were of no use to her. Even if she could have thought to try and pry her eyes open, she already knew what was above her—she knew who was above her. Suddenly, a mouth was kissing hers, hungrily, fiercely, like an animal devouring prey. She gasped, trying to break the kiss…and yet returning it. Her emotions were in a complete whirlwind…she had little to no control right now…and she hated it and yet loved it. "Such a fierce creature…" the intruder's voice purred in her ear, licking the outer shell, "So fierce and resisting, yet so desperately passionate…I love it…" She groaned with disgust, rage, and overwhelming lust. He laughed soft and cruel in her ear, "Ah, and still so resistant…such a fire you invoke in me, child." "Get off me…" she hissed, fighting the effects of the drug and managing to open her eyes. In the pitch darkness of her room, she could only make out his silhouette, "Get off…now." A dark chuckle was all he gave for an answer. Before she could do or say anything else, his mouth was back on hers, kissing with hot and searing desire. His clawed, thin hands held her narrow hips tight into the mattress, but not before his angular knuckles lightly brushed over her cheek. Her face jerked away with a shudder. His hand returned her face back to its previous location with a cold smile in his voice. "None of that, child," he crooned, "None of that…" his mouth slammed back down on hers. She tried to get away, but she felt his hand press against the junction of her jaw, parting her lips involuntarily. She couldn't hold back a moan as his tongue slithered deep inside her mouth, exploring the warm cavern. Her fingers pushed into his skin, but they weren't pushing him away. After a few minutes, the painful realization came, alerting her to the fact that she had not only allowed him to invade her mouth, but also that she had been desperately sucking on his tongue. She ripped away from the kiss, her head racing and pounding to the point of excruciating pain. She heard his soft, dark laughter in her ears. "It seems my little potion was enough," he crooned, "Such an intriguing effect my toxin has upon you, sweet child…the real consequences should hit you…right…now." No sooner had the words left his lips than she felt a violent burst of terror strike her, and it struck hard and vicious. She sobbed softly, hearing those horrible voices…and she could do nothing to shut them out…nothing at all… "Freak….get out, freak! We don't want you here! You're creepy! A witch! Witch!!" His hands slid down, long fingers creating ripples in the black silk of her nightgown. "Hold her down! Hold the witch down!! Here, gimme the matches! Let's see if the witch will burn, like in those old stories!! Hold her!" The phantom hands reached the hem of her gown, sliding underneath and creeping upward, feeling over the soft warm curves of her thighs. Hot pain…blinding white-hot pain searing through her body. her skin became coated with a thin sheen of cold sweat. Screams died in her throat; she would not scream. No…the pain was all that was there. Don't think about the anger…focus on the pain…have to focus on the pain, nothing else. Don't think about anything else…just the pain… Clawed fingers sought out sensitive patches of skin, earning soft whimpering sounds from her lips. His fingers were not skilled, but in her drugged state, little skill was needed. Her senses were in hyper-drive, and this….this was so horribly intoxicating… Hand ripped at her shirt, shredding it to bare her in front of a leering crowd, all of whom howled with rancorous laughter, "Look at her! Look at the freak!" The hands pushed her gown up, past her hips and waist, over the minimal curve of her chest, and over her head. Her hands rose to help him, as though hypnotized. "Look at her! HA! Looks more like a skeleton than anything! Let's see if skeletons are worth anything…." Her hands were undoing his shirt, pushing it from his shoulders. He took her hands and guided them downward, smiling as he did it. It was a twisted, wicked smile…and it sent a shiver right up her spine. "That's right, skeleton! Scream…you know you want this, bitch! You know you want it…SCREAM!!" His hands directed her silently, her fingers blindly finding the buckle to his pants and letting them fall away, hanging low on his jutting hips. His lips were on her wrists, kissing softly and possessively. Sharp teeth, a pointed mouth silently worshipping her skin, all the while tormenting her hyper sensitive nerves. White hot pain mixed with pleasure; her mind didn't know which was which anymore. It was all a blur…and it was all making her shake with the potent concoction swirling through every nerve and fiber of her being. "Worthless slut…" cold saliva hit her cheek, "Little cunt…wasn't good for nothing…never will be!" "Leave me alone…" she finally sobbed, the words forcing themselves through a hoarse throat, past dry and cracked lips, "Please…please just leave me alone…I didn't ask for this…I didn't ask for this body…please, just go away!! I haven't done anything to you! Just go away!!" "Good, Iris…good…" his voice was in her ear, "Let the fear consume you….let it drown you…then you'll be mine…all mine…" Her pulse raced dangerously, as though her life were mere seconds from ending abruptly; her eyes were wide, clouded with mixed emotion, the most prominent of which was terror. She could barely breathe. The voice wouldn't stop…she was spiraling away into that hated darkness. There was nothing to hold her back, nothing to stop her rapid spiraling. She was lost…lost to the darkness of her own mind. "Yes…" he purred in a thick, husky tone, "Yes….now you can be mine…" The sole thing she was aware of was the thin, skeletal body pressing against her own, between her thighs, and the only movement she could make – she wanted to make – was to rock her hips against his groin, panting, gasping, moaning, until she felt nothing but terror and pleasure. His clawed hands gripped her hips tightly, fingertips leaving dark, deep bruises on pale flesh. Instinctual methods of survival clashed hard with the raw need to feel intoxicating pleasure. Her hands gripped his thin shoulders, nails digging into the flesh to draw blood, earning deep growl of pleasure from his throat. Her hips thrust faster onto him, the need of pleasure clawing at her, screaming for release, scratching and ripping until it was fully released. The demon within her was making its way to the surface, and she knew he would eagerly meet such a challenge. Movements became frantic, fueled and mastered only by raw lust and need. Soft gasps swiftly became guttural moans and barely restrained screams of passion. Fingers left bruises while nails clawed at skin to raise blood. Mouths devoured each other, as though the other held some rare, exotic elixir that one would die without. This was not soft and poetic love making. This was a ravenous, lustful, animalistic dance of agonizingly fiery passion. And release from such heady passion came fast and brutally, forcing an inhuman scream from Iris' throat, one that was sure to keep her hoarse for the next week. She finally awakened from her drugged state, as swiftly as though someone had snapped their fingers and beckoned her from a hypnotic mind. Her body ached horribly; she could feel blood seeping down her body from various wounds. She managed to sit up, pulling the sheet over her body. The soft material was cool against her skin, which still felt as though fire were searing through her veins. Shaking slightly, she looked around, her eyes falling on a single black rose, lying innocently on her nightstand. Slowly, she reached out and took it, stroking over the petals thoughtfully. A rather twisted smile curved her mouth as she looked out through the parted panes of her window. Standing, the sheet falling unwanted from her body, she stepped over to the window, pulling the window open entirely. A great gust of wind rushed through, stinging her open wounds in a delightfully, deliciously painful manner. Her eyes opened, pupils dilated in the fierce light of the full moon. The silver light bathed over her naked body. "Come back and see me…" she breathed, entrusting the night wind to carry her message, "My Scarecrow…" Eyes gleamed red in the moonlight, gazing down hungrily upon the vision before him. Every mark he had inflicted upon her, every narrow curve and angle on her body, every minute detail of imperfect perfection glistening like precious, rare jewels in the moon's caress. Already he hungered for her again. And soon he would satisfy his hunger…and he would feed on her screams for desert. His face cracked into a maniac grin beneath the mask. Delicious…