Disclaimer:I do not own Sky High, its setting, premise, or characters -or related characters named and unnamed. All is the property of Walt Disney Pictures, Buena Vista Pictures, Andrew Gunn, and Mark McCorkie.
Between Peace and Battle
Chapter Six: Blindfolded
Battle told himself he wasn't going to make this dinner too fancy. It was only his third date with Mara. She was a hero and he shouldn't invest too much effort in a hero. Their relationship was fragile and already predestined to fail, so there was no point in making grand, elaborate gestures. He was just gonna make steak, and potatoes, and some kind of vegetable.
Then he looked in his fridge and realized he didn't have any fresh vegetables.
So, that was what lead him to standing in the produce section of his local grocery, staring at green beans, broccoli, carrots, beets, radishes, cauliflower, peas, okra, zucchini, asparagus, spinach, brussel sprouts, peppers and onions… Battle realized he had no idea what Mara liked. She liked things spicy. He'd already noticed that. But what did she eat? Of the two meals they had together he's seen her eat szechwan chicken, and then a disappointing vegetarian panini –Battle thought it was disappointed, Mara seemed to like it.
Wait, the only meat he'd seen her eat was chicken. Did she even eat red meat? Would she eat the steaks that were marinating in his fridge right now?
So, that was what lead Battle to the local butcher where he usually got his meats. He bought a whole chicken. Then thought what if Mara only ate white meat? So, he also got just two chicken breasts.
When he got back up to his apartment and started unpacking everything he'd bought, Battle realized he'd gotten enough groceries for a small family of three. It was as much food as he would have brought home back when he lived up in Bedlam and his parents were still alive. He stared at the meats and vegetables spread over the counter and wondered what in the world he was going to make. Battle gave himself too many options now.
Should he do a garlic and basil rub and bake the whole chicken? Whip up a cream sauce and cook just the whit-meat breasts? Or should he stick with his original plan of marinated steaks? What would Mara like?
Unable to decide, and afraid of making the wrong decision, Battle cooked everything.
Steak, chicken breasts, whole chicken. Potatoes, peas, carrots, green beans, broccoli, cauliflower, bell peppers, onions, beets, asparagus, spinach and zucchini.
Battle ended up making a feast that could feed ten people.
There was literally no single surface to lay it out on in his whole apartment. He didn't have a dining table. He had been planning to just eat off the coffee table. He pulled one of his black cotton sheets out of the linen closet and laid it out over the floor. Placing the trivets under the still hot dishes, Battle arranged the whole chicken in the center, with steaks and breasts flanking it, potatoes both roasted and mashed after that, and a ring of different vegetable options encircling it all.
For a little flair, and to add an element of romance to the meal, Battle added two antique silver candle sticks with mismatched candles.
He was just lighting the candles when he heard a tapping on his balcony door.
The dress she chose to wear tonight was a fairly even compromise between the smoldering temptress she'd been on their first date, and the modest librarian he'd had brunch with on their second. She skirt was long, going past her knees again, and gathered, making it swirl and flow with the breeze. But that loose gather didn't start until bellow her hips. The mid-part of the dress hugged her figure like that tiny coral number –which was still sitting in his closet- had. Tight fabric outlining her figure, the curve of her hips, the narrowness of her waist, the shape of her breasts. The collar was low cut, displaying her meager cleavage, but this time the dress had straps. Thin spaghetti straps that drew attention to the fact that the rest of her shoulders were bare.
She still carried that absurdly large handbag, but in addition to that, she also had thrown over the other shoulder a large black duffle bag.
Standing Battle slid the balcony door open. "What's with the body bag?" He asked. "You change teams all of a sudden."
"Huh?" She linked at him. "Oh! This. No, I just thought maybe this time I should bring my supplies. Since now I know you don't have any of your own."
"Supplies?" He felt his face burn as the word escaped his lips. She brought her supplies this time. Supplies for tying men to their beds and having her way with them. Supplies for… other things that she might need supplies for.
"Mm-hm." She smiled, taking her shoes off before she floated in. "I'll just throw this in the bedroom. Then you can tell me how many other people are coming."
"What?" Battle blinked at her as she disappeared into his bedroom. "No one else is coming! It's just the two of us."
Mara came back out, still smiling. "It looks like you made enough food for a small army."
"I, uh, I didn't know what you'd like." He tried to explain. "So, I made a little of everything."
She looked down at the feast laid out picnic style on the living room floor. Full size steaks, every vegetable under the sun, a whole chicken. "You certainly did." Mara walked a circle around the spread, then headed into the kitchen. "Where do you keep your plates?"
Flushing with embarrassment at having forgotten something so basic, Battle rushed into the kitchen after her. He showed her where the plates were. Also, pulling out forks and knives. Cloth napkins. Battle tried folding the cutlery into the napkins like his mother showed him, but Mara gathered it all up and carried everything into the living room before he could.
She sat down on the edge of the sheet, arranging her skirt around her.
Battle sat down opposite her.
"Candles were a nice touch." Mara commented.
She began filling her plate with green beans in an almond sauce, candied carrots, creamed spinach, cheesy broccoli, all the vegetable options. But not any of the potatoes. Damn. Should he had not made so much meat? But, no. She ate meat. He saw her eat meat. Then she reached for one of the chicken breasts in the cream sauce and Battle breathed a sigh of relief. He reached for one of the steaks. Usually, Battle preferred his meat rare. Bloody. But most people did not crave flesh the way he did, so he cooked them closer to what the average person would consider 'medium-rare'. As more of an afterthought, he also added both kinds of potatoes, and a vegetable.
"I wanted to impress you." Battle admitted.
"You've already impressed me." Mara informed him. "I looked up all the names you told me. The names of the people you killed for money. I know who they are now."
"And you're still here?" Battle asked, skeptical.
"Lord Fitzwilliam was low-level nobility, not close to the throne or greater holdings. His life –and death- had no political value." She began. "He had no heir. There was no profit in his murder. Except," she paused to take a bite of her chicken, "oh! Damn. That's good." She swallowed. "Except, after his death, it came to light that he was the head of a major ring of international human traffickers. Girls as young as twelve. His murder investigation put authorities in a position to rescue countless women who'd been kidnapped and sold into all kinds of dangerous situations."
Battle didn't know what to say to that, so he took a bite of his meat to have an excuse not to talk.
"Prince Kashgorm was an eldest son and due to inherit control of Ajarakh." Mara continued. "But he was also a degenerate gambler and wasn't shy about dipping into government funds to keep himself square with his lenders. After his death, the heir became his younger brother Brennan, whom –thus far- appears to be civic minded and has used his current level of influence in the government to rebuild roads, repair bridges, renovate city plumbing, sewers, and drainage. To making people's lives better." She took another bite of food and smirked at him. Then swallowed. "Do I need to explain what made the member of the Khmer Rouge you killed a bad man?"
Battle swallowed his own food. "So, are you trying to tell me that I only kill bad people?"
"You tell me. You're the one who accepts your jobs." Mara reminded him. "How do you choose your clients?"
"I outsource that part to the Broker." Battle told her, as if this should have been obvious.
She took another bite of food. "And who's the Broker? Another brooding bad boy who claims to be a big bad supervillain but is really a cute little Bambi?"
"I'm not a Bambi." Battle muttered, more to himself than to her. "No. The Broker is a neutral super. Not hero, not villain. He works on both sides. He Reads people, and he matches them with jobs that fit them."
And after Mara left tomorrow morning, Battle was going to march down to Divide and demand an explanation from Ave as to why all the jobs the old man found for him just happen to be jobs that could be misinterpreted or reinvented as acts of an 'anti-hero' instead of a villain. Battle wasn't a hero, anti or otherwise.
"Ah, so it's this Broker person that's the real anti-hero." Mara took another bite. "You just work for him."
"I'm not a henchman either, if that's what you're implying." How did she manage to keep doing this? Get under his skin. Give him a hard time. Get him all worked up and bothered. She was an expert torturer, and she never even had to inflict any physical pain. All she had to do was ask questions and double check the answers she got.
"Right, right." Mara nodded. "You're not a henchman, and you're not a superhero. You're just a guy with superpowers, who takes out key bad men all over the world, and –generally- leaves the area a better place than it was before he went there."
Well, when she described what he did like that…
But no. He was not a hero. Battle didn't want to be a hero. And besides, he killed people. Last he checked, the heroes had some very specific things to say on the subject of killing. Mainly that heroes don't do it. It was the one -unifying- Rule that united all heroes. Do not kill. Killing is wrong. If you kill, you are not a hero. Simple as that. Battle killed every one of the people Mara looked up. Sure, they were bad people, but that did not change the fact that they were murdered, and murdered by Battle. So, Battle was not a hero. Period. End of sentence.
"Can we talk about something else, please?" He asked.
"Sure. Sure." Mara had cleaned her plate of her first helpings and reached across the blanket to grab some more. "This is really good! Where'd you learn to cook?"
Battle hesitated. Long enough for Mara to notice. He told himself he would tell her everything if she asked. But some things were easier to talk about than others. No one had ever asked Battle how he learned to cook. No one had ever cared. Now, he realized, it made him sad to think about.
"My mother…" Battle found he had to clear his throat of the lump that formed there "…was hurt a lot. So, I would help her around the house. I would cook, clean, do the washing, and the mending. And my father had no idea."
"Ah." Mara nodded, not understanding the implication he was trying to make. She didn't get that he was trying to tell her something without actually having to tell her. "I take it she wasn't the one you inherited your powers from. Since you heal almost instantly and she got hurt a lot. Was she a sidekick or a henchman? They get hurt a lot."
"My mother was a mundane." Battle snapped, not realizing how angry he'd just become until he heard the venom in his own words. His mother was a mundane. A normal, powerless, average human. No superpowers. No extraordinary abilities. No unheard of skills. Just a normal woman. Exactly the kind of person heroes –like his father- were supposed to protect. Not harm.
"Oh." Mara looked down at her food. Considering all the unspoken implications that statement might have. That his mother was a mundane, she wasn't a super. She wasn't a sidekick or a henchmen. She didn't go out and get beat up by villains or heroes. She wasn't a hero or a villain. She didn't go out and try to save or take over the world and engage in dramatic, climactic battles. She was just an average housewife. …Whom was hurt all the time… Mara set her plate down, suddenly finding that she wasn't hungry anymore. "What… uh, what kind of villain was your father?"
"He wasn't." Battle growled. All the rage and hatred he kept suppressed for most of his life, even now after the man was gone, dripping from every syllable.
Mara fidgeted under the intensity in his voice. The tone in the room had changed so dramatically over the course of this short conversation. Talking about his jobs and the people he'd killed was almost 'light and breeze'. But this- -this was heavy and tense. Mara found herself fiddling with her hands, unsure of what to do with them when she asked, "Wasn't what?"
"A villain." Battle clarified. "My father wasn't a villain. He was a hero."
And Battle had chosen to be a villain. He seemed almost insulted when Mara tried to reimagine him and his actions as those of a hero –even an anti-hero. Biting her bottom lip, Mara remembered his odd statement on their first date. Clutching his chopsticks so hard they snapped.
'Not all heroes are good people.'
Barron's father might have been a superhero, but he wasn't a good person.
"We don't have to talk about your parents if you don't want to." Mara told him, not wanting to go much farther down this avenue of conversation herself. She did not like the venom in his voice, or the tension in the room. She was still hoping to seduce him into bed tonight and talk of abusive parents and childhood traumas were not sexy.
Battle promised himself he would tell her anything she wanted, even if talking about his father was difficult. But if Mara didn't want to know, he was saved. Battle took a large bite of his steak to have an excuse not to say anything.
Mara poked at her food, suddenly less enthusiastic about eating it.
They seemed to have lapsed into one of their awkward silences and Battle felt it was mostly his fault for some reason. He looked at all the food he'd made, then up at Mara pushing her second helping around on her plate. He cleared his throat. "So, uh, you really like my cooking?"
"It's good." She nodded. "Could use a little extra spice, but I already know you don't have hot sauce."
All that time he spent at the grocery store that day and Battle failed to get anything spicy at all. He wanted to kick himself. Six months ago, he was ready to start stocking his pantry with every fire sauce under the sun to keep her satisfied. Today, preparing a meal to impress her and he didn't even pick up any black pepper. Next time he went shopping, Battle was going to get all the hot spices. Cayenne, paprika, habanero, seracha, tapetillo, tabasco, ghost pepper, and whatever else might burn going down. He would just buy it all!
"Next time." Battle promised her.
Mara flashed him an almost apologetic smile. "Fire users like it hot." She said by way of explanation. "My dad and I used to eat jalapenos like snacking peppers. Ya know those little bell peppers that come in a bag and you can eat them like carrots? My dad and I used to eat fresh jalapenos like that. Ma hated it! She would complain that just being in the same room with us made her eyes water."
She smiled with a silent laugh at the memory.
It seemed Mara, at least, had a healthy relationship with her parents, and her parents had a healthy relationship with each other. Academically, Battle knew his childhood was the exception, not the rule. But it was still strange listening to someone talk about their parents with equal amounts of affection for both of them, and not have to hide or conceal loathing or trauma. It was weird.
"I'll just leave the balcony open when you snack on jalapenos." Battle decided.
"Oh? I'm gonna be snacking over here now?" She flashed him a teasing smile.
He shrugged. "If you want."
"You might not find me as attractive anymore if I start lazing around on your couch, wearing my fat-pants, and stuffing my face with peppers, and Cheetos with chili and lime." That teasing smile was challenging now.
Battle grinned back a challenge of his own. "Is that supposed to sound gross to me? You have no idea what my snacking habits are."
Although, technically, Battle didn't 'snack' in the strictest sense of the word. But sometimes after having to do a lot of healing in a short amount of time, or worse, reviving from a death, he had caught himself eating meat raw. No diet on Earth could make that an acceptable thing to normal people. If it wasn't that the nature of his powers made him crave flesh, Battle would think it was pretty gross himself.
"Oh? What's your gross snacking habit?" Mara asked.
Fuck! Like he was gonna tell her he ate raw meat. He did say no secrets. But she said not answering a question was okay. Or, he could give an incomplete answer… "I put hamburger meat in my cereal."
That did not overtly imply the meat was uncooked.
Mara blinked at him. "Oh… kay… A little unusual. But, people put chicken on waffles, so I guess that makes sense too."
"I've heard of chili and lime on fruit." Battle informed her. "But on Cheetos?"
"It's really good!" She insisted. "One day, they have to make already spicy Cheetos. I bet the company could make a killing. I bet they'd be better than regular Cheetos! Hot Cheetos. No! Flaming Hot Cheetos! It'd be great!"
"And flaming hot Cheetos with lime." Battle added, smiling at the absurdity of the idea. 'Flaming hot Cheetos'. Ha! Like that would ever happen.
"Yes! It would be perfect!" Mara smiled.
"I had no idea a person could be so passionate about their snacks." Battle laughed. Although, he wasn't sure if he was laughing at the idea of being passionate about snacks, or laughing at her for being passionate about snacks.
"Listen, buddy, you don't get between a girl and her comfort foods." She leveled a threatening glare at him from across the picnic sheet.
"I had no idea snacks were such serious business."
"Very serious."
"You're a snack." Battle blurted out.
He regretted the words the moment they were out of his mouth. Battle was afraid Mara might be insulted.
But she just smiled at him from across the picnic blanket. A sultry grin that had the blood rising in Battle's face and… other places. "You wanna eat me?"
A number of replies ran through his head. To assure her that he didn't eat people, just red meat, and other meat, but not people meat. But then, they weren't talking about meat and she didn't literally mean eat her. She meant eat her out. And Battle definitely wanted to eat her out again. More this time. He wanted her to throw her legs over his shoulders, or sit on his face. With his hands free, so he could grope her ass while his tongue licked the juice from her warm wet pussy.
Cheeks red, Battle looked down. "Yes."
"Well, you won't hear any objection from me." Mara informed him. "But I do think we should digest a bit before we get down and dirty." A pause. "I puked on a guy once. Ate too much, then just hopped on his dick. About three thrusts in, lunch rebelled against us."
"Wanna watch Knight Rider?" Battle suggestion. Getting vomited on did not sound sexy.
"You know what," Mara began, "show me all the shows you like to watch when you come back from your jobs. You said you just wanna do a job, get paid, then come home and watch TV. What do you watch when you come home?"
"I… I watch Knight Rider." He told her. And Street Hawk, the Fall Guy, the Equalizer, Dukes of Hazard, MacGyver, Miami Vice, the A-Team, and Murder She Wrote.
"Okay." She nodded. "Talking car it is then. That is the one with the talking car, right? I don't watch much TV. I'm too busy between day job and hero work."
Yet she found time to go on dates and sleep with a supervillain.
Battle stood and turned on the TV. "Make yourself comfortable."
He then began packing up all the food he cooked. It really was a lot of food. He went a little crazy with this dinner. Nobody needed three meat options at a meal meant for only two people. Three meat options and every vegetable Battle knew how to cook. Guess he'll be eating leftovers for the next week or so.
Battle pulled down tupperwear containers and boxes, portioned out the leftovers into individual meals, put half in the refrigerator, and the rest in the freezer. For once, he was actually doing that thing where you make your meals for the month all at once and freeze them.
Food all put away, Battle gathered up all the plates, serving dishes, and silverwear. He was going to just deposit them in the sink and go join Mara on the couch. But then they were just sitting there. In the sink. Dirty. And dirty dishes didn't wash themselves. Battle took two steps away from the sink, then suddenly found himself standing in front of it again, the faucet turned on, putting soap on a sponge.
"Are you gonna join me?" Mara called from the couch.
"In a minute." Battle called back, scrubbing at some chicken skin that was burned onto the side of a baking pan.
"Wow. He cooks and cleans up after himself!" Mara exclaimed, more to herself than to him. "Shame. That's husband material."
Battle felt his face flush at the accusation of being 'husband material'. For some reason, it made him feel even more uncomfortable than being accused of being a hero. But… a different kind of uncomfortable. Being accused of being a hero or anti-hero made Battle feel insulted, he was being called something he did not want to be. Being called 'husband material' made him feel… unworthy. Like she was attributing virtues to him that he did not actually possess.
He distracted himself by scrubbing the cooking pans harder. Then the serving dishes. And the plates. Battle told himself he could leave the cutlery until the next morning. They were small. He started to walk away from the sink again. But then found himself in front of it scrubbing without having made the conscious decision. Cleaning up after a meal was just drilled into him too deeply. He could not leave a dish unwashed. If his mother did, his father became angry. If his father was angry, his mother ended up hurt again. It was just better for everyone if Battle made sure everything was clean before he sat down to watch TV.
"Ya know, you're missing your show!" Mara called to him. "I might as well just switch to Golden Girls if you're not gonna watch with me."
"That sounds like a Bond movie." Battle shouted back to her. He was almost done with the cutlery. Once all the forks and knives were done, the sink would be empty. He could leave the kitchen then.
"You're thinking of Goldfinger." She replied. "Golden Girls is a cute sit-com about a bunch of old-lady roommates."
That sounded boring.
Battle placed the last fork in the dish drainer, dried his hands on a kitchen towel, and finally came out into the living room to flop down on the couch next to Mara.
Except he didn't make it to the couch.
Battle realized he'd left the sheet he used as their picnic blanket on the floor. It was now rumpled and covered in crumbs and grease stains. He scooped it up, wadding up the fabric so that no crumbs could escape, and threw it in the laundry hamper in his room. Battle paused before leaving his room. His eyes falling on the large bag Mara had brought. The bag of supplies. He flushed again, imagining what kinds of 'supplies' she might bring to a date for sex.
Finally, Battle made it out to the living room and flopped down on the couch.
Just in time to catch the end credits.
"You missed your show." Mara informed him.
"So I see." He growled. He wouldn't have had so many dishes to wash if he didn't cook quite so much.
She cuddled up to him. "Hm. You smell like water and dish soap." She informed him. Her hand slithered up under his shirt, her fingers running through the light dusting of his chest hair. "Maybe you should take off your top."
"Should I?" He asked.
"I think you'd be more comfortable." She nodded.
"Well, I wouldn't want to be uncomfortable." Battle sat up so he could peel off his shirt. He flopped back against the couch, Mara resting her head on his pectoral, one arm snaking its way around his waist. She was pressed up against his body that Battle could feel her body head through the fabric of her dress. "You're right. I do feel better." He told her. "Taking clothes off is great. You should try it."
"Maybe I will." Now it was her turn to sit up straight, leaning forward to expose the zipper in the back. "But I need a little help."
The zipper came down just as easily as the dress she'd worn on their first date. Again, no bra. Battle ran his hands up her back, feeling the smooth skin, hot under his hands. The curve of her hips, the narrow indent of her waist, the lean muscle over her ribs, finally her narrow shoulders. She had such a compact little body. Battle leaned forward and kissed her shoulder as she slid the spaghetti-thin straps of her dress off them.
"Mm, so helpful." Mara leaned back into his body, lifting her leg up to shake the rest of the dress off.
She sat, half on Battle's lap, now naked except for her panties. Pink this time. A triangle of shiny fabric covering her sex, lace waistband holding it on her hips, more lace drifting between the cheeks of her ass.
Battle readjusted his arm so that she was sitting on his hand, his palm cupping one round butt cheek.
"This is a little unfair." She muttered to his chest, her body draped over him once again. "I'm almost naked and here you are still wearing pants."
"I started off with more clothing than you." He reminded her.
Her hand drifted down his torso, making trails in his chest hair until her palm came to rest right over his erection. "Don't you wanna let this guy out?"
Maybe Battle hesitated a bit too long, because Mara seized the button and zipper of his jeans with both hands.
"Or, maybe I should be the hero and free the poor trapped animal." Unlooping the button, Mara slid the zipper down, allowing the tent of his underwear to rise out. She tried pushing the jeans off his hips, but it was difficult. He was still sitting down, and Battle was a lot larger and heavier than she was. "Do you mind?"
He lifted himself off the couch enough for Mara to push his jeans down to his knees. Battle kicked them the rest of the way off himself. They sat on the couch together, both now wearing only their underwear.
"Now we're wearing the exact same amount of clothing." Mara informed him, climbing onto his lap and straddling his thighs.
"Almost nothing." Battle smiled at her.
Her panties were so tiny, all he had to do was shift the fabric to the side a little bit and he could slip his cock in. Instead, he grabbed her ass with both hands. That perky round ass that he'd been fantasizing about from the first moment he saw her flying over the city. He cupped her cheeks, ran his hands over the curve, squeezed the soft flesh. Fondled and appreciated just how much there was of it. For such a tiny person, Mara Peace had a big ass. Battle readjusted his position on the couch, slouching slightly, so that the tent of his erection could be hugged by those soft round cheeks.
"So, are we still waiting to digest before heading to the bedroom?" He asked.
"We're still waiting to digest before you shove this giant thing in me." She nodded. Then flashed him a teasing smile. "But we can get started out here."
His cock was already rock hard and sliding between the cheeks of her ass. It was pretty safe to say that Battle had already gotten started. Even through the fabric of his underwear, her ass felt great! He could only imagine how good it would feel to actually fuck her in the ass for real.
"That bag you brought is in the bedroom." He reminded her. Hands grabbing at her butt cheeks again, squeezing them around his cock. Lifting up her bottom, then pushing her back down. Using her lower body to stroke his own dick. "How are we gonna get started with all your 'supplies' so far away?"
In answer to that, Mara crawled up his body, grabbed a fist-full of his curly hair, and glared at his right in the eyes. "I don't need tools to make a man my bitch."
Fuck! That should not have made him as horney as if did!
Why did getting pushed around and dominated by this tiny little hero turn him on so much? She was almost half his size, probably 90 pounds soaking wet, and a hero! But all Battle wanted her to do was shove him against various items of furniture, and command him to do naughty things with her deliciously female parts. He was kinda, low key, hoping she would climb half onto the back of the couch and shove her pussy in his face again. Those panties didn't cover much. All he had to do was just shift the fabric to the side a little bit…
Battle's hips bucked slightly. Excited for what she might do to him next.
"You like that?" Mara asked, in a soft –almost soothing- whisper. "You like getting your hair pulled?"
Battle grit his teeth and said nothing. Yeah, like he was gonna admit to liking getting pushed around by a tiny little hero!
Mara yanked harder and he let out a little keen of desperation. Yes. He did like getting his hair pulled. Who would have thought?
"I didn't hear you." Mara growled, voice low, and sultry, and smoldering.
If Battle hadn't already been rock hard, the sound of her voice alone would have pushed him over the edge of desire. Fuck! How did she manage to keep doing this to him? Why did he like it so much? He liked being pushed around by her. He liked her dictating the pace of their love making. –Fucking, he corrected himself. Not 'love making'. He liked her dictating the pace of their fucking.
Readjusting her hand in his hair, Mara yanked his head back, forcing him to look up at her standing over him. The gold of her nipple piercings catching the city lights outside. Shit. He should have closed the balcony curtains before they started this.
"You like getting your hair pulled." She said again. This time it wasn't a question. It was an assertion of fact.
Battle found himself having to swallow a lump of nerves that had formed in his throat. "I like it when you pull my hair."
"Just me?" She asked.
To spite being half out of his mind from desire, with a beautiful woman wearing nothing but tiny panties on top of him, Battle couldn't help the mocking smirk that pulled at his lips. "Prior to meeting you, I took issue with people trying to hurt me."
Battle didn't know what it was about that statement, but her expression changed. Less playful, more serious. Mara let go of his hair and flopped back down on the couch next to him.
"That's the thing." She said. "This isn't supposed to be hurting you. If I'm hurting you, you're supposed to use the safe word. If you use the safe word, I'll stop."
That. Right there. That was the reason Battle liked it when she did these things to him but took issue with similar treatments from anyone else. Yes, there was a significant difference in context. But the main reason was, Mara had no malicious intension of hurting him, and in fact, had a system in place to stop her rough play if she went too far. Mara made Battle feel safe. Safe enough to surrender. There was comfort in surrender. In letting someone else take charge of things.
That was what Battle liked about the things Mara did to him.
"I don't want you to stop." He told her.
She smiled again. That lopsided, almost predatory, grin. Full of sultry mischief and silent promises of pleasure and pain in equal measure that fill Battle with excitement. Mara climbed back on top of him, her hands fisting in his hair again. Pulling hard. Forcing him to meet her eyes.
"Say you like it!" She commanded.
Battle hissed in excitement. Trying to suppress a moan. His voice was thick and husky when he obeyed. "I like it."
"Yeah…?" She pulled harder. Damn. She could rip his hair out if she wanted to. "You like getting pushed around by a girl?"
"Yes." Battle moaned, unabashed, and unashamed. He did like being pushed around by a woman. He liked women who knew what they wanted. He liked women who were in control. "Push me around."
"Don't tell me what to do." She snapped.
"Please push me around?" Battle amended.
"That's a good boy." Mara smiled, running her fingers through his hair. Not pulling this time. Just gently stroking. Almost petting. Like rewarding a pet. "Beg for it."
"Please push me around." He repeated.
"A little stiff." Mara commented. But she was also rubbing against his cock when she said it, so it was difficult to tell if the comment was a critique of his begging, or taunting about his erection. "But you'll get better with practice."
Ah. So, it was a critique of his begging.
Mara adjusted her position, laying across his lap. "Carry me to your bedroom."
Battle stared down at her. Draped across his lap. Naked except for her panties. The city lights catching on her nipple piercings. That tiny pink triangle of fabric and lace the only thing hiding the lips of her sex from him.
"That was a command." She informed him, voice impatient. "If you're gonna be my sub, you're gonna have to be quicker on the up-take. Are you this slow when you go on your bad guy missions?"
"I don't have sexy, naked, flame throwers draping themselves over me on my missions." Battle informed her.
She did not seem impressed. Mara just looked at him expectantly. Hazel eyes impatient. "You can either carry me to your bedroom, or I can drag you."
The suggestion sent a little thrill through him. "I, uh, I think I'd like the second one…"
That impatient look melted into the predatory smile. She liked the second option too.
Levitating out of his lap, Mara grabbed a fistful of Battle's hair and pulled him off the couch. He hissed at the rough treatment. Smiling with teeth bared. A strange expression of mingled pain and pleasure. Still floating, using her power of flight to make up for their difference in height, Mara dragged Battle across the living room to his bedroom, pulling on his curly hair like a leash.
They were almost at the bed when she finally let go of him.
Mara picked up the bag she'd brought. Not her absurdly over-sized purse, the other bag she'd brought. She threw it at Battle, and he just barely managed to catch it before the thing impacted him in the chest. It was heavier than he expected. Feeling the canvas, it felt like there were a number of long but thin objects in it.
Leaving Battle holding her bag and standing there confused, Mara settled down on his bed and stretched out. Stretching out like she owned the place. Lounging like royalty on his imitation silk pillows (Battle had changed the bedding in preparation for tonight).
"Look in there and take out whatever you wanna play with tonight." She commanded.
He hesitated again. Blinking at her.
"Whatever you feel comfortable experimenting with." Mara clarified.
Setting the bag down at the foot of the bed, Battle unzipped it and opened the bag.
The first thing he saw were straps. Four of them. Bright red vinyl and shiny, with heavy buckles and grommets going all the way from one end to the other so that it could be tightened almost all the way to the buckle itself. Under the straps was coiled up rope. Smooth textured and silky, the kind of rope that did not chafe skin. Under the rope was what looked like an innocent eye-mask, like the kind a person might sleep in. Except, instead of a flimsy elastic band to hold it on the head, there was a heavy leather buckle, to pull it tighter and hold it on the face harder.
Under the mask was a long stick with a red feather at the end of it. Another long stick that was decidedly less gentle looking –a riding crop. Battle found himself swallowing at that. Under the riding crop was a red vinyl paddle. Then a wooden paddle. Candles made of red wax, they had an odd texture to them. Scented oils and lotions. Various lubricants, flavored, warming, cooling, tingling. And condoms with different textures, ribbed, bulbed, knotted, tickled.
It was a bit much for Battle. He had to take a breath before he could actually choose anything.
"This is stuff you're gonna use on me?" He asked.
"That's the general idea." Mara nodded.
He looked back at the contents of the bag.
"I'm, uh, I'm still new to all of this." Battle reminded her. He picked up two of the red straps. They were similar enough to his bet she tied him up with before that he felt comfortable with them. He also took out the feather on the stick. Battle could only imagine that being used to tickle, and that seemed non-threatening enough. The eye-mask was equally non-threatening, he pulled that out too. Also, all of the lube options she brought. Maybe she would let him fuck her ass. If she did, they would need the lubricant. "I, uh, I guess this stuff."
She crawled to the foot of the bed. Moving slowly, arching her back as she moved so that her ass stuck up and wiggled provocatively with every movement. Mara pushed the bag and the rest of its contents off the edge of the bed. It fell on the floor with a loud CLUNK. She picked up the eye-mask first.
"You're taller than me. Bend down." Mara commanded.
Obediently, Battle knelt at the foot of his bed, moving the bag to the side to make room for his knees.
He was expecting Mara to violently seize his head again and force him into the eye-mask. Instead, she very gently tilted his face down, lining the mask up over his eyes and wrapping the strap behind his head, careful to go around his ears instead of over them. When she tightened the buckle, she did it slowly, pausing at every other hole to give him a chance to use the safe word and tell her it was too tight. When Battle didn't object, she fastened it as tight as it would fit around his head, and closed the buckle.
That done, she placed a finger under his chin and tilted his head up. "Can you see anything?"
"No." He informed her.
Mara smirked. She moved the rest of the items he pulled out of the bag out of the way so that there wasn't anything he could trip on or get himself tangled up in. "Climb up on the bed."
Battle obeyed, moving slowly. His hands sweeping the sheets in front of his to make sure he wasn't crawling over any of the items Mara already moved out of the way for him. He perched on the edge of his bed, awaiting her next command.
Mara slid off the mattress, taking the items with her. "Crawl to the head of the bed and lay down."
He moved slowly since he couldn't see. Battle ran his hands over the bedding before taking a movement. His arms making wider and wider sweeps each time.
"Where did you go?" He asked when he didn't feel her on the bed anymore.
"I'm here." Mara assured him, voice low and soothing. Just above a whisper. The kind of voice one might use when tucking a loved one into bed for the night. The statement, however, was punctuated by her wrapping one of the straps between her hands and snapping the vinyl, making a loud sound.
Battle flinched, head turning at the snap in the air. He blinked behind the eye-mask, unable to see her, and wondering what she was doing and what he'd actually agreed to.
"Lay down." Mara commanded.
Battle laid on his back.
"Spread your arms." She added.
He stretched his arms across the bed.
Floating over him, Mara used the vinyl straps to tie Battle to the frame of his headboard. One arm on each side this time, not together. So that his strength was divided and the strain wouldn't be in one place. It would be harder for him to pull the headboard off the wall. Harder for him to free himself. Mara pulled them tight, then waited to see if he was going to object. When he didn't, she fastened the buckles.
"Can you move your arms?" She asked.
Battle yanked on the straps and found that Mara left him very little slack. "No."
"Is it too tight?" Mara asked.
"No." This time his answer was challenging.
He heard the soft scraping and clinking of small bottles being arranged on his bedside table. Mara going through the bottles and tubes of lube he'd taken out. It was then that it occurred to Battle that her orders were to take out the things he wanted her to use on him, not for him to use on her. He heard her drum her nails on the bedside table, probably thinking of how he wanted her to use the lube on him. Last time they had sex, her pussy was plenty wet. They sure as hell didn't need any lube to have vaginal sex.
"Are you into pegging?" She asked. "Because I don't have any tools for that."
"I, um, I don't know what that is." He confessed.
Mara smirked, knowing full well he couldn't see the expression. "If you were into pegging, you'd know what it is." She informed him. "Why'd you take out all the lube? Do you need the cooling? Am I too hot for you?"
Battle felt himself blush behind the eye-mask.
He felt the feather ghost over his chest, tickling his nipples. "I can't use something on you if you don't tell me how you want it."
Battle hissed at the tickling sensation of the feather. Damn. Why did he pick something that would tickle? "I…" He began, unsure. She had him tied up. He was at her mercy. What would she do if she didn't like his answer? Well, he did promise her no secrets. "I was thinking of using it on you." He finally confessed. "I… I like your ass. I've liked your ass since we first met. I wanna fuck you in the ass."
There was a beat of silence.
Battle couldn't see her face. He had no idea what his confession sparked in her. Was she disgusted? Angry? Insulted? Turned off? No longer attracted to him? Was she going to untie him, pack up all her stuff and leave?
He heard her nails drum on his bedside table again. She was thinking.
"I've…" She hesitated. Wait. Did he make her uncomfortable? After everything they already did together. After everything he let her do to him. Battle finally managed to make Mara uncomfortable. "I've never… done it in my butt before. I… I don't think… I don't know… what to do…"
Damn. He wished he wasn't blindfolded right now. He wanted to see her awkward-embarrassed face.
"Maybe… maybe not tonight." She said. "I, um, I was planning on dominating you. I don't think… I mean, me bottoming for anal sex would place you in the dominant position."
Mara sounded so, so very uncomfortable. She must be blushing like crazy. Face a bright red. Battle wished he could see her. He pulled on the straps, wanting to pull off the eye-mask keeping him blindfolded. But the vinyl held. He had no use of his hands.
He also noted that Mara did not actually say 'no' to letting him fuck her in the ass. She said 'not yet'.
"If you've never had a dick up your ass before, we'll have to loosen you up first." He told her, wondering if the information might make her more uncomfortable and wishing he could watch the expression on her face.
There was another silent pause.
Finally, Mara spoke again. "Okay. I'll teach you how to be an obedient sub, and as a reward, I'll let you fuck my ass. Sometimes."
That was a better reaction than he was hoping for. That wasn't a no, or a maybe. That was a yes. It was a 'yes, but not tonight'. That was better. Besides, if she'd never been fucked in the ass before, that meant that Battle was going to have to train her hole a little bit. Loosen her up before he could fit his cock in her. Her pussy was so tight around him, and that was meant to take an erect cock. He could only imagine how tight her ass must be.
Battle felt the feather ghost over his skin again. Traveling down his chest, over his abs, around his erection, to tickle his thighs.
"For tonight," Mara said, "it'll just be about what I want."
"And what do you want?" Battle asked.
"Spread your legs." She commanded, and the smirk was evident in her voice. "You're not a nun."
Obediently, Battle spread his legs.
He felt the feather slide from the top of his thighs to the inside. It tickled the sensitive skin there, ghosting over his balls. He felt the feather even through his underwear. The unfamiliar sensation making him flinch.
"If you don't like being tickled, you shouldn't have chosen a tickling tool." Mara taunted him.
The feather skittered down the inside of one leg. Over the bottom of one foot. Then the other. Back up the inside of the other leg. Battle flinched again, kicking the leg that was currently being tickled.
"Behave yourself." She commanded. "Or else I'll tie your legs down too."
"Yes, ma'am." It came out as a groan, because he was trying not to gasp or moan. Being threatened to have his legs tied down the same as his arms should not excite him.
The tickling feather paused. "'Ma'am'?" Mara echoed. "Do I look old enough to be a 'ma'am' to you!?"
She demanded this knowing full well that Battle couldn't see her.
"Mistress?" Battle ventured. Unsure what the proper for of address was for a female dominant.
The feather might be soft and gentle, but the plastic stick it was mounted on was not and Battle winced when she brought it down hard on the sensitive skin of his leg with a loud SMACK. "Do you think I'm some 'other woman' who sneaks around with married men!? Show some respect!"
"Sorry." Battle was quick to apologize, still not sure what he was supposed to call her. "…My Lady?"
There was another pause.
Then Mara sighed. "Eh. That'll do for now."
He felt the feather again. Sliding between his thighs, tickling around the hems of his underwear. Traveling back up his body. Pittering over his pectorals, making his nipples hard. Battle give a giggle at the sensation. Then a groan at just how weak that made him sound.
"Look at the big bad supervillain." Mara taunted. "Tied up and helpless, at the mercy of a tiny little hero."
"And what is the hero's mercy?" He asked.
So far, all she'd done after tying his up and blindfolding him, was just tickle him with a feather. Not very exciting. Battle was expecting something a little more… sexy. Something involving hands on body parts that were not seen in public. He was expecting more attention to his cock. Or her, sitting on his face and forcing him to service her orally. That's what Battle was expecting.
"Whatever I want." That whisper was right next to his ear. Battle could feel the heat of her breath on his skin.
It sent a shiver down his spine.
A warm weight settled on the bed next to him. Mara stretching out and getting comfortable on the mattress.
Battle felt the stick of the feather lay across his belly. Then Mara's hand on his chest. One finger tracing the line of his collarbone. The outside of his pectoral. Curving under the muscle. Then making its way back up pinch at his hard nipple. Battle gasped at the sensation.
Her hand paused there a moment longer. Holding the bud of flesh between her fingers. Twisting slightly. Pulling on it gently. Before finally letting go and moving her hand to the other side and giving the second one a similar treatment.
"What happened to the feather?" Battle asked, trying not to moan. The question came out as more of a whimpering groan as a result.
"The poor feather got bored." She informed him. Again, whispering close to his skin. Breath feeling hot against him. Making Battle feel tingly all over.
"Bored?" He asked, voice sounding whiny even to his own ears. Did he, like, miss the feather or something? Was being tickled somehow better than having a hot woman play with his nipples.
He felt her warmth and weight –what little weight she had- as she crawled on top of him. Straddling his legs, the juncture of her thighs close enough to his erection for him to feel the heat of her sex, but not quite close enough for him to rub any part of it against her. Mara's hands drifted down his torso, her nails leaving trails in his chest hair. Traveling lower, and lower, until her fingers hooked in the waistband of his underwear.
"Your body is nice." She told him. "But it's so~o boring!" Her hands left the waistband of his underwear without taking them off or reaching inside to give any kind of attention to his erection. Instead, Mara's palms made another norther journey. Over his toned abs and sculpted chest. "All this lovely hair and muscle. Such a perfect male specimen. And not a single tattoo, piercing, or scar."
"Can't scar." Battle told her. "Heal too fast for scars."
"That's so unfair." Mara growled.
"You don't have any scars either." Battle informed her. He had seen her naked. He had seen every inch of her body. She didn't have any scars that he could see.
"I've got scars." She informed him. "I just cover mine up with makeup."
"Oh?" Under the eye-mask, Battle raise his eyebrows. "Where do you have scars?"
"My face, mostly." She answered. Sitting on his legs almost lazily. As if the sex-play and been put on pause and they were making just making normal conversation. "Acne scars. Ma always told me not to pick at them, but you know when you're a teenager you never listened to your mother. What does she know? She's old. You're young and you've got all the answers."
"I…always listened to my mother." Battle informed her.
He felt uncomfortable talking about his mother while he was tied to his bed, in naught but his underwear, with a partial erection, and an equally mostly-naked woman on top of him. Nothing killed a boner faster than talk of mommy.
"Hey now!" Her hand closed around his cock. The fabric of his underwear bunching around his shaft as she gave him a couple strokes through the fabric. "Stay with me, buddy."
Battle gave a moan of appreciation. He didn't think she'd give his cock any attention until she was ready to put it inside her.
Hooking her fingers back in the waistband of his underwear, she pulled it off. He was finally naked now.
Her hands returned to his erection. Her palms warm and soft as she stroked him. Up and down. With slow, purposeful strokes. A slight twist on the up-stroke. "I didn't give you permission to lose interest, Bambi."
"I'm not a Bambi." He muttered.
"No… you're just a timid little boy who always listened to his Mama." She snarked. "Why don't you prove to me you're a stag instead."
"Hop on and I'll show you I'm hung like a stag." Battle promised.
"Don't tell me what to do." Mara gave his cock an uncomfortably tight little squeeze. She already knew how well he was hung. The fact that his organ was in her hands, he'd been inside her once already. It was nothing new.
He groaned at the sensation. It was uncomfortable. But not entirely unpleasant.
"Ya know what…" He heard her ask before her body shifted on top of him. Battle couldn't see what she was doing, but her weight left the bed for a moment. She didn't leave. He could still feel the heat radiating off her body. She just wasn't one his anymore. Floating above him maybe. "No more talking from you."
That was the only warning he got before Mara stuffed a wad of fabric in his mouth. It was small and tasted like pussy juice. When he ran his tongue over it, he felt lace. Did she- did she just shove her panties in his mouth?
"I do what I want."
Battle thought he should spit out the fabric and point out that if he was gagged, then he couldn't very well use the safe word. Could he. But then he felt her lower herself back down over his lap. Her thighs parted right over his stiff cock. The wetness of her sex dripping on his tip. Then Battle decided he did not want to say anything more that would delay getting his cock inserted into her hot, wet, pussy.
He sighed with appreciation through a mouthful of panties when she slid onto his stiff erection.
Mara was just as tight, and hot, and wet as the first time they did it. Only this time, he was ready for her tightness and her heat. He could last longer. He wasn't ready to cum three thrusts in.
Battle bucked his hips, pressing himself deeper into her.
She moaned with her own appreciation, rocking back and forth. Wiggling his member inside her. Making sure his thick shaft hit all the spots she liked. Every nerve and sensory cluster that had her keening and squirting. Battle felt her fluids trickling between his thighs as she rocked and bounced with their motions.
Pulling against the restraints, Battle tried to reach for her. To caress her. Fondle her. Feel any part of her body other than where they were already connected. Before, without the blindfold, at least he could see her breasts bounce. Her hair fall over her face was she moved her head. Her smile as she rode him. The way her eyes pinched shut when she came. Battle couldn't see any of that with the eye-mask on. He couldn't see her. With the straps binding his wrists to the bed, he couldn't touch her.
The only way to know she was there, that she was real. Was the tight heat squeezing his cock.
Moving over his hips.
Spreading her wetness over his hips, and thighs, and legs, and belly.
Making them both sloppy from enjoyment.
Mara rocking on his lap, moving him inside her.
Him, thrusting up. Hitting all her spots. Crashing against the entrance to her cervix deep inside her.
Pushing her to a climax.
Moaning and squirting.
Mara braced her palms on his pectorals, propping herself up. Body trembling from the force of her orgasm. Breathing hard. She smiled at him, then realized that he was still wearing the eye-mask and couldn't see.
Lifting herself up, Mara slid off his cock and climbed up his body. Reaching behind his head, she unbuckled the strap holding the mask over his eyes. Pulling it off, he blinked rich brown eyes at her.
"I think that was better than last time." She told him.
Battle smiled. That was because he lasted longer than last time. Lasted longer, and still hadn't finished. "Do I need your permission to cum?"
Mara smiled back at him. "You're learning."
…