Chapter Twenty-One: Raped by Original Fear
Gwendolyn's single spoken word hung in the air, suspended for a moment by the heavy potency of the silence between them.
"There?" Bane rasped, the word musical through the front of his mask.
Gwendolyn nodded. "Here," she whispered as she again patted the space beside her.
Gwendolyn's heart began to grow at a rapid rate as Bane closed the small distance between them, trying to walk casually, without the urgency that was burning him up inside.
"Here?" Bane growled as he stopped on the other side of the elevated hospital bed.
Gwendolyn nodded, not entirely trusting her voice.
Gwendolyn licked her dry lips as Bane kicked off his heavy boots before beginning to peel off the remainder of his clothes.
Gwendolyn felt a jolt of original fear, fire and brimstone, bone breaking, soul crushing fear.
"I don't think I can do that," she whispered as a blush filled her face, unable to say more as her eyes found his thick length, hanging heavily between his strong thighs.
"I have no intention of taking anything from you, I just want to feel all of you."
Bane was telling the truth about not planning on taking advantage of her healing body, not that he hadn't given thought to wanting more.
Gwendolyn watched him make his movements deliberate and careful as he pulled back the blankets, settling onto the mattress, shifting towards her until he could reach out and cup her jaw.
"Thank you," he purred in a dangerous melody, the weight of his gaze and unreadable visible expression made her beautiful face fill with a flattering blush.
Bane slid across the mattress, dropping his arm around her with as much delicacy and finesse as he could manage for his sheer size and dense musculature.
Gwendolyn allowed herself to relax within his strong embrace, the heat from where their bodies pressed together threatened to melt their flesh.
"Am I going to die here?" Gwendolyn whispered; an involuntary shudder ran from the base of her skull to the tip of her little toe.
Bane remained mindful of her surgically repaired shoulder as he shifted further until he could fumble at the looping bows of her hospital gown, tugging at the cotton, exposing her bruised nudity.
"No one will ever hurt you again," Bane murmured musically, a frown pulling at his forehead knowing the blemishes to her supple flesh were due to his rough handling.
"Careful," Gwendolyn gasped, inhaling sharply as a deep ache pulsed from her damaged shoulder joint and spread through her chest as he tugged her against the front of his body.
He ensured her IV tubing wasn't kinked and that she had pillows in place to support her healing body before he pulled at her thigh, bringing her impossibly close.
Bane's thick length grew hard against the inside of her thigh, the sensitive head rubbed along the crease of where her hip and thigh met as he let her shift until she was comfortable, adjusting his body once she settled.
He longed to slide inside her, fill her, possess her, finding it a struggle to pull the bed linen up and over their naked bodies.
Bane picked up the remote from the overhead bed tray, switching on the small television and scrolled through the channels until he felt Gwendolyn tense up in his arms. He paused on repeat footage of an earlier broadcast of her father, speaking from behind her desk on the OWL Newgroup set of 'The Morning Hoot.'
Gwendolyn started to tremble.
Bane looked down to see her holding back tears.
"What is it Miss Mourn, what is it you're thinking about as you look at your father?"
Gwendolyn shook her head, "can you change the channel?"
"Tell me why seeing your father upsets you?" he growled with staccato, mechanical syllables.
Bane needed her to speak freely, he couldn't hurt her for answers as he normally did when others forgot how to answer questions.
"Talk to me," he demanded in a dangerous melody.
Gwendolyn shook her head, the vigorous movement causing bolts of pain to shoot through her body. "It's all terrible, you and that woman were right, I did whatever my father ordered in the name of advancing his agenda, political manipulation, and black mail.
"Tell me," Bane urged, smoothing the scarred fingertips of his hand down the front of her body, coming to rest on her belly.
Gwendolyn's voice shook an several times she dissolved into tears, sobs wracking her body as she told Bane how her father strong-armed her into dressing up and entertaining men made of money who had political ties or ran Fortune 500 companies.
"I was an escort who never fucked anyone," Gwendolyn spit bitterly as she recounted dressing up in couture gowns and perching on the laps of rich men and sometimes women, hidden cameras catching all of the action that looked like a lot more when captured on still frame.
Bane lifted his hand and pressed his fingertips against her lips, stopping her confession.
"It's not your fault," he murmured in a soothing melody as he plucked a preloaded syringe from the over the bed tray. He injected the syringe's contents into her IV port where it'd be absorbed by her body.
The clear liquid was a powerful painkiller that would lull her into a deep and dreamless sleep.
Gwendolyn closed her eyes as she rested the side of her face against his broad chest, her ear over his heart, his lungs mechanical lullaby eased her into a sleep devoid of pain.
Bane turned off the television after Gwendolyn drifted into a state of unconsciousness, listening to the even rhythm of her relaxed, ragged breathing.
He stroked her bare skin under the blankets, desiring to know the parts of her she kept hidden away.
Craving to keep warm from the fire inside her.
Willing to be penitent with her command of the heavens above her.
Anxious to learn how she was able to dictate the direction of the Ferryman across the River Styx.
As Bane held her close to his body, back in Gotham City, Blake knocked on the door to Miranda Tate's office, settling in one of the plush chairs in front of her desk.
Talia's smile encouraged Blake's words to spill from between his lips in the hopes of being able to fuck her.
He was so vain and blinded by his ego that he actually thought he could exist in her world and share the oxygen of the breathing space.
Blake was wrong on both counts.
As Miranda kept Blake wriggling on the end of her line, back on the top floor of the Tri-Towers, sleep eventually captured Bane in a gentle stranglehold.
As she slept, Bane never once lessened his hold around Gwendolyn's naked form, anxious for when she was healed enough to fuck.