Hello, me hearties!
I'm on my fourth glass of wine, Hubby is out playing Warhammer (its past midnight already!), so I thought what the heck. no point delaying this chapter. It's Saturday, lets have fun.

I hope you'll find it fun...

Let me know!

Helena didn't want to get up the next morning. Starting her day meant she would sit to work at her desk. Where she lost control so spectacularly.

Bane could come in for a repeat performance anytime, too.

No, this would not do, she sighed. She needed to clear her head. Shooting could help achieving that as it did before...

But once more, it involved interacting with the infuriating mercenary.

She would have to leave the compound with him. Alone. In the car. Away.

She sat on the bed. That didn't look so gloom, come to think of it again.

She spent her day as usual; there was no sight of Bane. Not even on the courtyard. She didn't hear him leave. It didn't mean he was still at the compound. Then again, she suspected he might be less conspicuous if he went away right after inviting her to his bed in a straightforward manner.

Or maybe not to bed. On the sofa. Or maybe desk. A chair. Floor? Wall? Shower?

Mind racing, she shook her head to focus. She needed to contact him. Asking guards about him seemed somewhat crude. So, what else was available?

Her gaze dropped to the desk. Rare full-fledged grin bloomed on her face.

There was one method of communication available that ensured basic privacy and utmost civility. She congratulated herself on the idea with a cigarette.

The chapel was bathed in darkness, islands of dim light too distant from each other and too weak to dispel it. Ancient walls housed servers, computers, radios, and other electronics indispensable for a band of mercenaries.

Bane observed, without stuttering on debriefing Birdman and Barsad, as James came into the control room. The guard should be elsewhere at this hour. Occupied with keeping his scribe focused on her work.

He nodded to younger man as he stood to a halt respectable distance away, waiting for his leader to finish. His lieutenants each spared a glance, too, but eventually they all settled for another minute of talking.

Then, he waved James over to join them.

"I have correspondence for you," James said. In sparse lights of former chapel, his eyes seemed to sparkle with mirth. But his mouth stayed firmly pressed in a line.

A tad too firmly for Bane's liking.

The letter was small in mercenary's hands. A rectangle of paper with his name written beautifully on one side and, he'll be damned if it wasn't a wax seal on the other.

He stuffed it carelessly in one of multiple pockets of his cargo pants, "Thank you. Go back to your duties."

The paper burned him through the thick fabric.

Barsad was the first to smile.

"Come on, brother, it's not every day you get a letter delivered in here."

Bane glared at him. "Not every day you're this close to losing a limb. What of it though?"

Birdman handed him something in an outstretched palm.

A folding knife.

"Either way, it will come in handy in the next few minutes," he smirked.

The masked man scoffed, took the tool. Produced the letter back from the depths of his pockets.

All three hunched over to take a closer look.

The seal was simple beeswax, pressed with something formed to represent an intricate 'H'. On the other side of the packet his name, his title, was written in an elegant hand with sparse embellishments. It resembled something Bane saw, but couldn't pinpoint.

He opened the knife.

"Don't cut through the paper," Birdman cautioned, "If she stuck to the letter to what people used to do, then you'd slash through the text. It should be enough if you crack the seal."

Bane looked down at the object in his hands. He tried prying the seal away with tip of the blade, but the wax bonded with the paper. He didn't want to destroy it.

But then again, it was the first letter he had ever received. He wanted to see the contents.

"So, you want me to do it?" Barsad asked impatiently. An insolent smirk ghosted over his lips.

Bane handed him the letter.

"Be my guest."

He made himself slouch forward nonchalantly, elbows on knees, head hunched in concentration. Letting himself be robbed of the excitement of opening the letter wasn't easy. He did feel too invested as it was, so detaching himself from the message should help in keeping his mind clear.

Satisfying snap reverberated through the air, then rustle of unfolded sheets.

Bane swallowed, his throat parched suddenly.

Silence.

"Well?" He looked up.

Both his second in commands furrowed their brows in futile attempt to decipher contents of the message.

"I can't read it," Barsad admitted, handing the letter back to Bane with a chagrined sneer. "Is it some kind of a code?"

Bane took one glance and immediately recognized the hand that seemed vaguely familiar when it spelled only his name.

"Yes and no," he murmured reading the message.

It was only one sentence.

He laughed then, an echoing, altered sound, unmistakable and uncommon.

People around stopped their work, staring bemused at their leader.

"Does anyone have a red pen?"

Knock at the door was short and curt. Helena twisted her head to look, arm braced over the chair.

Who could it be?

"Come in, please."

The handle turned, hinges squealed lightly and in came the medic. She tried not to show the disappointment that flooded her. Well, Bane wouldn't knock anyway, she reasoned to herself.

"Good afternoon." A slight incline of his head. He stood a step away from open door, legs shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind his back. Respectful.

"Hello Barsad," she eyed him suspiciously. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, but his demeanour was stoic, face nearly blank. She couldn't think of a reason for him to visit her.

"I was told to give you this, and wait for a response," he said, more than a trace of smugness in his voice, "Should you want to write a reply, that is."

She got up from the desk and reached to take the same letter she had sent to Bane earlier.

Inside was scribbled in red. She huffed an outraged breath, cheeks puffing out in brief annoyance.

"Condescending dick," she murmured.

"Excuse me?"

"Bane." She didn't look up from the letter. "I said he's a condescending dick."

As she turned back to the desk, her lips quirked in a lopsided smile.

"So, no reply?"

"Oh, au contraire, my friend. There will be one hell of a reply. You might want to sit, though, it will take me a while to finish."

As fun as it was to wait for a reply from the scribe, Bane had matters to tend to. A report came in, eating up most of his evening with attempts at rectifying the situation at hand. Somewhere during the impromptu staff meeting, Barsad came back, but none of them had time to dabble in frivolous things.

The conclusion was obvious and made his mood sour. He had to go.

An unfortunate turn of events, he mused, scaling the courtyard on the way to his chambers. Reflexively, he looked up. There was still light on in the scribe's room. He patted the pocket on his vest, hiding the letter.

Soon.

He didn't need much light to read, so he put on only one lamp. Sitting on the sofa, he caressed the paper. Soft, yet firm. The seal was put on anew, overlapping slightly over the old one. Pressing with his fingers he snapped it open, anticipation tingling in his palms.

The original message, a simple sentence in Latin was still in the middle with his corrections and commentary on the right corner. Helena's response was written in the same hand, Leonardo da Vinci's mirror writing, scribbled on the left.

He grinned. What would it take for her to agree to learn proper Latin from him?

For a while he just enjoyed the touch of the letter in his hands, possibilities unfolding before him. This was a moment he felt truly carefree. He didn't remember many instances like that in his past.

Incoming trip to Niger seemed inconsequential.

He sighed, leaning back and bending his head to look at the ceiling in dim light. Inconsequential, but necessary.

Helena looked at the letter, a bit astonished.

She expected Bane to be amused by her little act, but not to play along like he did.

She recalled what she first wrote.

'Would you let me go shoot again?'

One sentence, in, as it turned out, heavily faulted Latin.

He scribbled his corrections in a concise, neat hand, along with a commentary. She toiled over its meaning.

'I will grant you your wish, but I expect a compensation.'

'What would you have me do?'

She expected another round of corrections, but he sent her a new letter. Sealed with, and she did giggle when she noticed, butt of the .300 Win Mag shell. One from a bullet snipers often use.

The contents of the letter made her sit down on the bed, impact from the sole sentence as big as a blow.

English, as to avoid any misunderstandings, she gathered.

'Wait for me.'

She did wait then. Drudging three weeks over the books. Looking over the courtyard, hoping to see him, every day.

She did get her excursion out shooting, to her surprise. Barsad came and went with her, chatting amiably the whole way. She shot three full magazines, shells littering the ground where she laid, head full of advice. She didn't expect how knowledgeable he'd be.

But he did not compare, she thought. She wished she could go out shooting with Bane again. She wished he would come by for a chat.

Days went by in a pace of a snail. Work was at the end.

She was out on the battlements, braving rain, stubbornly exposing herself to the elements, when he finally came back. She watched as the cars approached, as he alighted, and to her amazement, as he immediately looked over to her empty, dark window.

She smoked her last cigarette that night, waiting for him.

He never came.

Something was happening, and she didn't know what it was or why. It seemed like mercenaries were getting ready for a festival of some sorts. Men talked louder, smiled easier and laughed more often. Helena noticed stacks of wood growing beside walls of the chapel. Obviously, they were readying for something. Aromatic air from the kitchen seemed constant now. The courtyard was busier than usual, the anticipation hung heavy in the air.

Then, one afternoon, Helena watched the Muslim Brotherhood walk out in a procession, followed by some men. They returned after half an hour or so.

Then, the festivities begun.

Marco was guarding her on that day, and he didn't try concealing his bitterness over the fact. Helena stood at the window, observing.

She sought Bane.

His grand silhouette appeared here and there, mingling with the crowd, socializing, bestowing pats and nods around.

It was disturbing, in a way. The camaraderie. The normalcy.

She went to work, to distract herself from the question, why didn't he visit with her still.

She did wait.

He came for her when the early night fell over the monastery.

Wordlessly gestured to her to follow him. Guided her through the crowd of revelling mercenaries on the courtyard, up to the other building. To his turret.

They wandered the empty corridors in silence.

Cheering voices echoed faintly from the outside, remnants of a party that moved elsewhere littered abandoned halls as they strolled towards double door at the end of the hallway. She knew exactly where he was taking her, and against her better judgment, she felt her stomach knot.

Confidently he pushed massive doors apart, as if they were nothing more than a pair of curtains. Hinges complained loudly, but they gave them no heed as they walked past. She looked around curiously, noting minutia of the decor, so telling of the occupant's character and preferences.

One wall was dedicated to books, sturdy shelves stretching over to the ceiling. The windows looked over a long desk, littered with papers. In the middle there was a sofa, facing the door. Some tables with trinkets stood around. Chess set, a telescope, a globe, intricately ornate chest.

A door loomed over on the opposite side of the room, slightly ajar, showing corner of a massive bed.

Bane carefully shut the passage to his chambers, locking it with a loud bang.

"Do you think that's really necessary?" Amusement obvious in her tone, Helena toyed with a chess piece while peeking at him quizzically.

He didn't reply, instead slowly strode towards her. His fingers danced delicately on the surface of the chess board.

"Do you play?"

"Poorly."

"Would you chance a round with me?"

"Wouldn't that be a pointless exercise? I don't think I'm any match for your strength… tactical or otherwise." She used that opportunity to rake her eyes over him shamelessly.

"That never stopped you from trying to gain the upper hand on me before."

She smiled, almost genuinely, and gingerly put the piece back on the board.

"But I never actually did."

"Let's see what can be done here, then!"

Several hours later, the voices of the party died down to occasional song drifting up on damp night breeze from one of the bonfires in the yard.

Bane stared intensely at the board, forehead resting on his hands. He was losing, and wasn't sure why. It grated on him, especially since she really did play chess rather poorly. Her decisions were erratic and unexpected, far from regimented canons he himself preferred. Nevertheless, she managed to gradually wear his defences thin, and turn him on a defensive mode. He wasn't accustomed to that.

"Could we finish some other time?"

He looked up right when she suffered through apparently jaw wrenching yawn.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can manage to make any more moves without falling asleep instead of thinking on the game. And I have to get to my cot somehow."

His eyes crinkled slightly as he straightened up in his chair. Slowly he put his hands on the back of his head, enjoying the sensation of adjusting his spine back to its proper position.

"You won't be going back there tonight."

She regarded him coldly.

"Do I get to know why not?"

"We both know why."

She opened her mouth to speak, but he anticipated her questions. "I want to keep an eye on you myself. It's the one night everyone gets to enjoy after all. Can't have my men sacrificing that, only to watch our only prisoner."

Her chest heaved with a sigh. Involuntarily, his eyes were drawn to shapely mounds of her breasts discreetly moving under her blouse. He lowered them back to the board almost immediately.

Nervously, she licked her lips.

"Where would you have me sleep then?"

Bane extended both hands in a wide gesture, apparently grinning behind the grille of his mask.

"My chambers are yours for tonight."

She was uncertain of his motives and meaning, confusion clearly written on her face.

"Thank you." Graceful dip of her head. "Would you mind if I retired now, then?"

"Of course not."

They both got up at the same time.

"Right," she awkwardly shuffled towards the bedroom, but changed route after only a few steps. "Umm, I think I will be quite comfortable on the sofa."

He observed amused as she glanced around looking for blankets that were not there. After a minute, her shoulder slumped and she turned to him, exasperated.

"Okay, you win. Where do you want me?"

He suppressed pang of lust gnawing his abdomen at her suggestive wording. Gallantly bowed, left hand stretched towards bedroom door. "I would suggest the most comfortable quarters as the only appropriate choice for my guest."

"Uh huh." She didn't even try to hide roll of her eyes.

He followed closely behind as she made her way where he pointed.

"And where would that leave you?," she opened the door herself and stalked straight to the bed.

Again, he ignored her question. Seeing her in his room seemed at once alien and perfectly natural. She looked around, her face expressionless. Bedroom was mostly empty, with only the bed, simple armoire and a chair. Walls painted indigo blue seemed almost black, since the only light came from adjoining room's lamp light filtering through the door and faint glow of the moon through the window.

She sat on the bed, bathed in incandescent bluish shimmer. Bane strolled towards her, until his knees almost bumped into hers. She looked up. His mind raced to unwelcome images, possibilities he thought absurd. Yet, his eyes flashed as he savoured their peculiar state now.

His options were endless, yet he was hesitant to explore any of them. She sat deceptively calm, stoic statue he grew fond of. He knew she wasn't really calm or collected, but they both pretended anyway. This subtle back and forth was addicting - and he wasn't sure that was good for him or his plans right now.

"You should find everything you need in the bathroom."

With that he turned around and left, closing the door behind him.

She woke in the middle of the night. Padded barefoot to the door. Bane was sitting by the chessboard, eyes boring into the piece's frozen mid-game.

"Go back to sleep," he said.

She watched him for a minute, until he raised his eyes directly at her.

He looked tired.

"Go," he repeated softly.

She turned, climbed back between warm covers. Covers that smelled of the man who terrorized and killed. Who loved books and science. Who she was growing more and more fond of, despite everything that happened.

Despite everything he put her through.

She curled in a ball, trying to dispel the chill that ran along her spine.

She woke again, sometime later. Still dark. She heard a shower running behind a wall, soft padding of bare feet, rustle of cloth. Tossing languidly in toasty sheets, she contemplated getting up again.

Too dangerous, she decided after a while. She might not resist a temptation to get closer this time.

Before she opened her eyes, Helena liked to stretch and toss on the bed, just to see if maybe sleep would come to her again, like it did so many times during last night. This time was no different, apart from the fact that for the first time in weeks she was immersed in sinfully pleasant linens. She enjoyed their smooth glide on her skin for a few seconds before she finally decided to start her day. To her surprise, it was still dark outside.

Sighing softly, hands gently running up and down her chest, she turned to the other side and froze midway.

Her eyes met bleary-eyed Bane, lying in the middle of the bed. She swallowed reflexively, her throat constricted with surprise.

"Good morning," she croaked quietly.

He just hummed, the sound at once normal and foreign. She never imagined she would actually see him in such intimate setting. His eyes closed for a few seconds. She relaxed her muscles, abandoning her previous thought to lie on her side, since she would be facing him then. Her left hand stayed trapped at her breasts for the time being.

"Don't stop on my account, my dear." His expression relaxed, Bane smiled at her lazily. There was however a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Despite herself, Helena clenched her muscles. She shouldn't feel pang of desire that just washed through her stomach and down. Involuntarily, she sucked on her lower lip. Bane just lay there, observing. She imagined continuing with him right there.

Thought that should be revolting made her cream between her thighs.

That's your captor, you idiot! she frantically reminded herself.

"I think I'll just get back to sleep," she managed after few discreet calming breaths. She turned her back to him, praying he would follow her suggestion as well.

"Coward."

Mechanical rasp of his perfectly accented voice cut through the silence like a slash on her back. She tensed visibly, knees tightly pressed together.

"Would you have me pleasuring myself just to amuse you?" She tried to sound detached and mocking, but he probably saw through her bluff anyway. "That seems boring and unimaginative, especially for you."

He scoffed.

She felt the mattress dip, as he pushed his way closer. His breath ghosted at the back of her head.

"You wound me," she had to admit, but he was far better than her at drenching his voice in mockery, "I would happily assist. You need just ask."

Suddenly, she felt too warm, from the sheets, from her desire and from his body, too close, radiating heat. Her legs shuffled slightly, and she bumped into his strong shin with her foot. Little contact that it was, it made her shiver slightly.

"Okay."

He lay bewildered, not really believing she took his half-hearted attempt at unsavoury humour seriously. Her back to him, she seemed too taut and stiff, while just minutes ago, her body still heavy from sleep, was welcoming and relaxed.

He didn't expect her to move the way she did, sneaky fingers playing with her flesh only shadow of the movement reflected by the covers. For a moment, it seemed natural to just watch her, and he felt unfamiliar disappointment when she tensed. Reflexively, he mocked her attacking when his footing was unsure.

But then, that surprising 'okay'.

He hummed silently, wondering what would be the best course of action. His hand slowly wandered from the middle of her back up, and again down. Her muscles relaxed a bit, and she angled her head down, exposing more of vulnerable neck.

Bane felt his confusion dissipating, replaced by gradually blooming lust. She offered herself, and he wasn't one to turn down such a gesture.

He closed small distance that still separated their bodies. Helena couldn't suppress sharp gasp at the sudden movement. He groaned in response right when their hips met. The pressure on his hardening cock was delicious. He felt her gentle stirring all over his front, and he gladly pressed himself flush to her as his left hand sneaked to her breasts.

"So, how may I help?," he murmured.

She sneered into the pillow. "Do you want me to instruct you step by step?"

He rolled his hips, squeezed at soft fullness beneath his palm.

"Exactly. Tell me what you want me to do to you, and I will."

Her breath hitched. "What about you, do your wishes come to the picture as well?"

He delicately rubbed cold tubing of his mask on her neck. "I am a man of simple needs." He nearly moaned when her hand sneaked unceremoniously to his buttocks.

"Tell me, what would you have done if you wouldn't have stopped just then."

"First, I would slide my hands over my skin, just to wake up the nerve endings…"

She sighed contently as he did just that, lightly sliding his left hand under her top. Her nipples perked under his palms, and every muscle that he touched spasmed slightly. He never stopped rubbing his mask on her neck and shoulders.

"Ah, then I would play with my boobs…"

Bane shifted and sneaked other hand beneath her to reach both her breasts at the same time. He revelled in her willingness, listening to her moans as he expertly kneaded her, pinched and massaged. She ground her hips on his, unashamed, one hand still clutching him greedily.

He let himself enjoy her for few minutes, dexterous fingers playing with her front, while they found rhythm at rubbing in painfully slow circles.

"Are you wet for me?"

She moaned, strained her head back to look at him out of the corner of her eye. "I don't know… Now might be a good time to check."

He snickered under his breath, appreciating her humour. His right hand moved to the front of her neck as he scooted closer again. She opened her legs a fraction, which he immediately used, sliding his knee between them. His left palm sneaked down, surely, to her panties. For a while he toyed at the hem, noting how she squeezed her legs to try and relieve some of the tension.

"Tell me how you want me to do this."

"No," she gasped, "It's embarrassing."

"You're grinding into my dick, sweetheart," he huffed, "Not that I'm complaining, but that is a somewhat counterintuitive thing to say."

Her hand left his thigh then, and she drew in a calming breath.

A pause.

He waited, patiently, as if he had all the time in the world. As if he didn't want to press her down and ride her until the end.

"Lay your palm on top of my panties, and just press there lightly."

His eyebrows shot up in puzzlement, but he did what she asked nonetheless. Immediately she keened, as he rested his hand over her cunt. He felt her juices drenching soft cotton of her undergarments.

"Just like that… Now, rub in circles."

Amused, he did just that, surprised that simple movement resulted in her wantonly moaning and stretching out. His cock swelled at the sight.

"Ah, now…" She moaned, bit her lips. "Put your fingers in me."

"And where would that be, huh?" He contemplated, foregoing rubbing on her with his palm for slowly tracing her nether lips with the middle finger.

"Bane…"

"Tell me exactly."

She swallowed, closed her eyes.

"Put your fingers in my cunt."

He slipped one hand inside her panties, testing her wet folds gingerly. Circled her opening.

"How many?"

"What…?," she gasped.

"How many of my fingers you want in your pretty little cunt?" He kept maddeningly circling her vagina, seemingly oblivious to her attempts at centring him in the bullseye. She panted loudly, her breath coming in gasps and moans, making his blood boil.

"One, for start…" She clutched at his right arm as he inserted one digit inside. Her walls gripped him in slippery hold, and he wondered if he could contain himself until the end.

He moved his hand, careful to rub the ball of his palm on her clit.

"Yes, right there!" He put pads of his right hand at her lips, to better feel her laboured wet pants. His eyes closed, he imagined himself scaling expanse of her back with his mouth.

"More…," she moaned, breaking him out of his daydream, "Give me another finger!"

As she spoke, he slipped a second finger along the first, picking up the pace. His mind was in a haze. Suddenly, he felt her tongue on his right hand's index finger. She licked it, moaning and relentlessly grinding her back into his cock. Desperate to feel him. Then she took it into her mouth. Sucking in time with his hand fucking her pussy, and their hips mashing together.

It was perfect. Both his hands were drenched as he pushed into her, moaning and grunting. His head felt engulfed in a pleasurable fog.

"Bane…"

He slowed, ears perked to her next request.

"I want you."

He stilled. Her hips still rolled into him, even as his hands slipped out of her mouth.

He moved away and shifted to his knees. Helena leaned on her outstretched arms to rise as well, but his hand between her shoulder blades stopped her instantly.

"Stay on your knees."

The way she stiffened in anticipation didn't escape his notice. He marvelled over the depravity of this situation. Hovering at the precipice of a boundary he set for himself long time ago, he eyed his prey. Palms splayed possessively over round bottom, he used his thumbs to spread her core for a better view. He knew she was sopping wet from before, but seeing her now expectant, and hearing the low keening from her throat had him lightheaded.

Gulping over the tightness in his throat, he guided the head of his cock over her entrance. Relished the way she gripped the sheets, moaning into the pillow.

This, money couldn't buy.

He watched as his body entered hers.

Oh, yes…

The shiver that ran through her back echoed in his abdomen in a pleasant tingle. He joined her in a satisfied groan.

He was deliberate in first few thrusts, testing her limits, trying to imprint onto himself the exact rhythm and angle that made her elicit the most delicious moans. He let himself drown in the experience, his movements getting more urgent by the second.

She giggled then.

He stopped.

"Oh please, don't stop…"

"Stay still," he ordered.

Why on Earth would she laugh in the middle…?

He panted quick, shallow breaths, his palms still on her perked bottom, bewildered.

Obediently not moving, she just waited for him. It was a haze of an evening, pleasure mounting gradually, until here she was, on her knees, pleasured by the man whom had her at his mercy, in ways more than one. She wanted more. Delight danced on her skin like an electric current. She hadn't felt that way in a long time.

"Can I have you inside me again?"

Movement fluid like water, he grabbed her by the hips and pulled to him, still kneeling.

"Say 'please.'" She heard the smile in his voice. Couldn't suppress her own.

"Please fuck me now."

He almost growled, desire again like fire in his belly, coiling up his spine. Moving away, he forced her down, on her back, positioned himself on his knees between her stretched thighs. Feasting his eyes with her dishevelled look, he grabbed her right leg under the knee, twisting up, opening her for him. He wanted to lose himself in her welcoming heat, watch her unravel before his eyes. His cock rested at her opening, teasing them both, gliding lightly, moistened with her juices.

Bane straightened and steadied himself with his right hand.

"Open your eyes now."

As she did, he pushed inside once again, stretching her wet cunt with his hard length. It was heavenly, the way her hips flexed to take him deeper, how her eyes flashed and almost instantly closed back in rapture. Her palms knotted the sheets, lean muscles straining under the onslaught he brought on her body.

He moved steady and hard. His cock pushing into her until their hips met, he finished each movement with his pelvis grinding into her. He felt his balls clench.

It was time to finish this delicious torture.

Pushing forward he let his body follow the movement of his hips until he was half lying on top of her. His massive body crowded her, never stopping the thrusts he wrought on hers. Pace quickened to a demanding level he snapped their hips sharply together, every thrust calculated to push them both closer to the edge.

Arm resting on the elbow, he sneaked his left palm into the back of her head, grabbed her by the hair.

"Look at me," he demanded.

She did instantly, biting on her lips, trying to muffle the sounds she made.

His other hand steadied her hips, so he could keep drilling into her forcefully. When she started to slip her eyelids shut again, he snarled, yanking hard on her hair.

"Keep your eyes on me."

Helena moaned obscenely, her hands flew to his biceps to anchor her closer. He was controlling and demanding, and she felt as if she never felt arousal as intense ever before in her life. She fought to keep her gaze on him, raking nails through his skin every time he ground up into her.

He bore his eyes into her, furrowing his brows, body drenched in sweat from the exertion. His cock buried as deep as it would go he felt invincible. Release built almost to the bursting point. Sliding between her thighs effortlessly, considering her unfocused eyes in building light of the dawn was oddly peaceful.

He was mesmerized in the act.

And then she came.

Her moans stopped, and as he kept looking, her irises expanded and then rapidly shrunk. He felt her nails sharply press into his sweaty skin, legs clenching impossibly around him, her pussy milking his cock in a grip tighter than he thought possible. His ears were ringing, and halfway in he realized he also came, kept coming, hips reflexively thrusting, bringing them both higher for a few seconds more.

All through it, she never took her eyes from his.

They lay on the bed after, side by side.

Room got brighter each second with the Sun slowly rising above the mountains. Bane got up with a grunt, padded naked to the bathroom.

Helena just stayed still, musing what just happened, what the consequences might be. She wanted him, she wanted him to fuck her. So there wasn't any conflict about it in her mind. But the fact that he could do with her anything he wanted… That might get even more dangerous now.

She sat up, pulling the sheets to her chest. Sitting in his bedroom felt surreal. Being there naked after bout of exquisite, mind-blowing sex was indescribable.

For a fleeting moment she thought he'd be violent or cruel. She felt relieved and pleasantly surprised that he turned out to be just perfect, manly, strong and oh so very capable.

It still felt somewhat weird to think of him as a person instead of a monster.

Man, with needs.

She wondered briefly who did he fulfil those needs with until now.

As she mused, he emerged back from the bathroom nursing a half full glass of water. Stalking his way to her he looked unnervingly bashful, as she took him in with a smirk.

"That was good. Thank you," she nodded gratefully as he passed her the glass.

Bane sat, irritation ghosting over his mind. Was it the water she thanked for, or something else? He wouldn't stoop to asking about that.

But there was another thing he felt the need to be inquisitive about.

"Why did you laugh?"

"Because I felt good," she peeked at him, sliding a bit closer, trying to get a look at his eyes. He was gazing through the window, hunched over, elbows on knees. Shut in.

"Did you think I was laughing at you?"

He snapped his head to face her. "Were you?"

"I wouldn't dare!" Maddeningly, she laughed out loud.

He knitted his brows, not amused.

"Was my performance unsatisfying?"

She sobered, slid even closer, to rest a hand against his thigh.

"Listen, I'll only say it once. I might be having mild Stockholm Syndrome moment right now, but that was great sex I wouldn't mind repeating."

They stared at each other awkwardly.

Both grasped exactly what they said during the last minute, equally stupefied.

"Right…"

"Very well…"

She took her hand away, leaving him irritated again. He, too, wouldn't mind repeating what they just did, and it grated on him. He just had her, and yet he was thinking on grabbing her hand to put it on his cock, lifting her from his bed to take her against the wall.

He missed her wanton throaty moans. He didn't need distraction, yet he craved her again.

Hiding his anger, he got up to get dressed.

"Prepare for the day. I will escort you to your room now."

...Did you like it?

Next chapter, "Bliss", incoming.

And, as always, thank you for the reviews!