Author's Note: Sorry for the delay on this chapter. I couldn't get in the mood for one of these scenes. I found the book Dark Knight Rises and it completely tells the movie outline, so yay! Anyway, here is the piece you've been waiting for! :D Enjoy reading; I enjoyed writing it.

The City in Pieces

Chapter Twenty-Six: In Bed With a Torturer

Many a time when Chance was sleeping in the tavern by herself in those three days she lasted up there in Gotham, she longed a second time with Bane. She only realized the intensity between them when she had met Maroni after all these years. Chance found it enticing to be in Bane's presence again, and although something inside her always feared him—she knew what he was capable of doing—it aroused the dangerous side of her, and perhaps he was trying to mold her into a killing machine.

His bone-breaking, lacerating, and scarring to Chance's body were lessons she had to remember. Disobedience wasn't an honored act, even if someone disagreed. She'd learn them eventually, though despite how many times he would hit her, he never raised his voice. And once he had learned that her vanity was not in appearance, but her intellect, he knew how to manipulate her mind; nothing pissed off Chance more than insulting her by calling her incompetent.

Bane set Chance on the bed as one would after marrying a bride. He was amazed with just how confident she was in her body; his eyes caressed her body in admiration. His own satisfaction was derived from his long years of training a leader who was obsessed over taking Gotham as her palace—calculating, but not a true fighter—and formed an obedient second-in-command, lustful, full of rage, seductive, intelligent, and all the more dangerous to those who didn't know what pain was. His dark, penetrating eyes did their part. She seemed to freeze under his gaze.

"Admiring your work, Boss?" said Chance in a silky voice.

Bane leaned forward, setting a hand on her strong stomach. His fingertips felt the sudden clench. He could kill her if he smashed the heel of his palm, hard enough into her ribs. She'd hemorrhage long enough to gasp, then her stomach would be pulverized, spilling out onto the mattress. Chance's eyes glanced at his fingers. Bane watched her lips purse slightly; her teeth nibbled her bottom lip.

Chance's hands formed at the sheets on either side of her body. Her fingers entangled in the sheets. Bane glanced at her fingernails scratching the bedding. Chance met his eyes. She lifted her head to kiss his cheek. The metal around his cranium touched her cheek. Cold.

Chance laid her head back down.

"I could make another one for you." Chance said gently, indicating his mask. "After all these years, I'd improved as an engineer." A smile. "It'd be easy."

"This is easy?" said Bane.

"Easier..." Chance set a hand on his fingers along her belly. "Than this..."

Chance laid straight on the bed. She restrained herself from the god-awful temptation to rip the remainder of her commander's clothes from his body and ride him like a stallion. The image of said temptation passed her mind and she smirked. Bane slid his hand down to her lower belly. He felt the slight roughness of the long scarring along her mid-section. Chance's tongue darted out of her mouth surreptitiously, an involuntary action that she had when she was aroused. Bane's slight touch was maddening, and although she desired the S&M treatment he had given her the last time, something was more torturous than that. It was this...

Chance's stomach burned as his fingers glided along her pelvis. A burn crept from her feet and crawled up her legs; massive urges had to restrained as urgency pooled just above her burning sex. She felt the familiar wetness between her legs. Bane watched her eyes close. He glanced at her smooth legs. They parted slightly.

Chance's hand slid off her stomach and grabbed the sheets. She was trying to control herself.

Bane caressed her inner thigh. His thumb lightly pressed against the naked mound. She bit her bottom lip harder. Bane watched her expression as pleasure crept onto her face; a small smile. Her eyes squinted. He could feel heat pulsing from her. For what it was worth, he admitted that she hid what she was feeling rather well. Though he didn't know just how hot she was.

Bane sat beside her on the bed. Chance watched him position himself in front of her spread legs. He grabbed her legs and pulled; she slid across the bed easily as if she were lying on air. Bane was sitting on his knees; he had her lower body right in front of him. Chance stared at him.

"What are you planning?" she said, suddenly hoarse.

Bane tapped his fingers on her inner thighs.

"Do you think I'm going to tell you what I'm thinking?"

Chance frowned.

"I thought this game was to see who would lose first..." Chance said quietly.

"It is. However," he pressed his hand between her legs, making her jolt, "I think I'm in charge. What do you think? Do you feel in charge?"

"I don't think it really matters...to me..." said Chance; she uttered a small moan as his fingers teased. Chance's immediate reflex out of pleasure was to close her legs; though that went out the window, due to Bane's massive size. Even if she did, Bane's other hand kept one of her legs at bay.

The burning inside of her grew more intense. He slid a finger along the folds of her skin. Chance's back arched. Her mouth fell open inadvertently, her fingers suddenly clawed the blanket beneath her. She was hot with arousal; Bane smirked beneath his mask. He knew she was all the more attracted to him, but my god, the slightest touch sent her shivering in lust

"Tell me," said Bane, "which do you prefer?" He rubbed his fingers along her heated muscle, making her thighs clench in obvious heat.

"Compared to what?" she breathed. Another moan left her mouth, one that was breathless.

"Which torture is better for you?" Bane asked her, point blank. "I don't understand that. It's sick."

"Sick, Bane?" she chuckled. Chance raised herself off the bed to wrap her hands around Bane's neck. He didn't budge at the extra weight. He could handle it.

"Aren't you being hypocritical, Sir?" she said.

Her straightening back pushed her pelvis into his waist. He sighed. That goddamn waist...

Her hips seemed to find him. Chance gave him a smile that seemed to appear out of character.

"Don't tell me that you're not getting off on this," Chance said softly. "With me, you have all the power at your fingertips." Chance felt his hands wrap around her waist. "You're like god. But you can't feel pain." Chance tapped her knuckles on the side of his metal mask. "But I can." She moved her back; her pelvis danced against his hidden erection.

"I would actually enjoy seeing you deliver some justice to the social elite up in their penthouses..." Chance breathed. "I imagine it's quite different when I'm not your victim." He grabbed her waist to pull her against his growing erection. "Then again," she said, licking her bottom lip when she felt his arousal beneath her naked body, "I practically encourage it."

Bane sighed. Chance's seduction was very powerful. It made sense to him how she could be romantically involved with those goons in the past. She was charming, but her sexual interests seem to vary from the light side of sensuous foreplay to the hardcore mass of bondage: any goon, any boss, any hero—no one could be disappointed with her. Bane supposed that the only person she actually was never drawn to was Ace's beau, the Joker.

Bane's fingers made light, red marks along the nape of his neck, watching his face harden at the pressure against his muscles.

"I've seen you kill before," she whispered against his neck. "And there's nothing like it." She spoke of murder in voice of loving caress. He listened to her words. His hand climbed her waist to cup one of her perky breasts. From this, she sighed.

"You have a deadly outlook for murder, Chance." Bane said.

"I don't crave murder," she said. Her fingers tightened around his muscles.

"You're a torturer." Bane told her. She chuckled wickedly.

"Only of the body," she said.

Chance lowered her head to his neck, opened her mouth, and bit him.

Bane closed his eyes from the sudden pressure, though he felt no pain, due to the medication he was breathing. Chance grinned against the extrusion of blood. He grunted either way, then pushed her away from him. She fell back against the mattress, bouncing slightly at the exercised force. He propped her legs open.

"Admit it," she said as he unbuttoned his jeans, "you like it too."

"I simply give back what you're giving me."

"If I did the same, you realize that you'd be dead." Chance retorted with a smirk.

Bane hovered over her.

"The fact that you endure this because you relish it is odd enough," Bane told her.

Chance passed two fingers across her mouth to wipe away his blood.

"One day I told you that this story was rated Mature. Considered it to be some sort of swearing thing?" Chance said amused. "Though I have to admit, the whole torture fetish is weird," she confessed. Then smirked. "But we're all going to Hell anyway."

Bane pulled his pants off.

"You're too calm." Chance said gently. He glanced at her. "If I make you angry, will you hit me?"

"I wouldn't push that far." Bane said. His voice was alarming.

Chance clicked her tongue.

"Mm, a threat." She raised her head; her tongue passed along his wounded neck. He grasped her throat and pushed her lightly. "You like it, too...don't you?"

"I'm not a stranger to pain." Bane told her.

Chance slid out from beneath him and sat up. He looked at her. She gestured serenely that he lie down. Curious to know what the Hell was going through her mind, he did as she asked. Chance boarded his body. He was naked in front of her. Chance's legs pressed the outer limits of his own; her fingers found the muscles along his stomach, her favorite spot. Her lips lapped up the light blood from his neck, what little she had drawn from him. Bane was fascinated with her, not because she thought of pain as a different expression of intense desire, or the fact that if he hit her, she seemed to love it ever more. She was so adept with him that Chance was fearful to push him too far, but just close enough to the edge that it teetered the boat.

Her obsession over his body was particularly amusing to him. While other girls seemed to be terrified by his massive body, she only seemed astonished. The mere glimpse of skin while wearing a black t-shirt seemed to drive her up a manic wall. Which could explain why she felt so furious when Talia had been with him in the lair after he had bathed, bare-chested.

Chance descended. She left hot kisses down his chest. Chance felt his gut retract when her soft lips caressed the creases of his abdomen. Her fingers slipped between their bodies to lightly graze his growing erection. To Bane's surprise and immediate pleasure, Chance's mouth replaced her fingers along his now throbbing member.

Bane uttered a low moan. He felt Chance's lips widen in a devilish smirk. He watched her head bob up and down slowly. A torturer of the body...No fucking shit...But he realized shortly after that they were still playing her game. He reached for her hair, grabbed a handful, and pulled her up. Chance squealed.

"You're not winning your game like that." Bane growled. Chance licked her lips then straddled his waist. "You're a clever minx, Chance, but not subtle."

Chance shrugged.

She raised her body slightly, hovering over his erection with anticipation. Chance lowered herself, smoothing him inside of her, and although she had tried to make it easy as she could, she still made a wanton moan as she encased him within clenching walls. Bane's hands ceased her thighs, keeping her still as he buckled under her legs. Chance moaned his name. She leaned forward over his stomach as he thrust inside her. Bane heard her moans become breathless. He felt his own body purging as her walls clenched devastatingly.

"Oh, shit..." she gasped, closing her eyes.

"Don't hold back," he told her hoarsely.

"That's what I'm trying to do," she breathed. Though despite her attempts, her control to refuse an orgasm was not as strong as she thought. His force was driving her to a cliff. His deep voice only seemed to nudge her with a stick, beckoning Chance to simply jump off the precipice. And she was close.

Bane could feel it too. Her moans became louder. Her position on top of him didn't give her any control. He was stronger than her, more endurable. And, by all means, more controlled. He admittedly wasn't a dormant man, though: he could feel his own climax as she rode him gallantly. Chance's hands fell to his stomach, trying to find some strength in her, but to no avail, it only made it feel so much better.

"Say it." Bane said darkly.

"Fuck you," Chance hissed.

"Fuck me?" he said. Bane gripped her legs and pushed himself into her with an elevated force.

Apparently, the word he was searching for was 'harder', and he did it to make a point. Chance screamed his name as he loved to her voice edgy and loud when she climaxed. Her orgasm, the strongest she had ever felt, forced her walls to clench so tightly that Bane moaned her name as well. Her fingernails along his stomach stabbed him viciously against her orgasm.

Then the two of them were dormant.

Chance rolled off him. The remnants of her orgasm washed over her. Her legs were vibrating slightly. Bane reached over to take her face in his hand; she was startled by the sudden reproach. She saw something dangerous in his eyes; it wasn't physically alluring to her. In fact, it frightened her. She shuddered.

"I should clarify something to you."

Chance stared at him.

"If you ever say 'fuck you' to me again, I will personally make sure that the real Chance Bremly ceases to exist." A pause. "Understood?"

Chance nodded.

"Yes..."

He released her.

"Sleep. You have a big day ahead of you."

Chance nodded. She laid on her side, staring at the wall.

"And Lieutenant..."

"Sir?"

"I will take you up on that offer."

"What offer, Sir?"

"Make another mask."

Chance smiled then closed her eyes.

"As you wish, Sir."