Still don't own diddly squat. Read authors' note at the end for an announcement on upcoming chapters. Love you guys. Wait. Jiro's ours. Bwahahaha.
-Masked Men
Jonathan dreamt for the first night he had in a while. It wasn't a bad dream. It wasn't cryptic, or hazy, like his late-night hallucinations always proved to be. Not a vision of the future, but a picture of the past. It was he and Ra's.
They were standing on a frozen tundra, and Jonathan couldn't help but rub his arms frantically trying to keep warm.
Ra's turned around and contended, "Rub your chest, Mr. Crane. Your arms will take care of themselves."
Ra's kept looking intently at him, and Jonathan could not take his hands away from his arms, fearful of the freeze that might onset if he did. When he cast his eyes downward, and continued rubbing his burning arms, Ra's looked away, almost…disappointed?
"You are the second American who's come here. The first since we rebuilt it. The first American and last man to come to me before the rebuild was a peculiar type. I found him, really. Tell me, Mr. Crane."
Ra's lunged forward at an apprehensive Jonathan, and his fist shot out at Jonathan's unprotected face. Jonathan threw himself back off his feet, even though the fist very obviously stopped a few centimeters short of his nose.
" Do you fear me, doctor?"
Crane stayed down, shivering and shielding his face.
" Mr. Al Ghul, you've got quite a reputation. You are regarded as a g-great and terrib-ble f-force to b-be reckoned with. I respect you for this. I want w-what you ha-have. P-please don't hurt me. I wa-want to do business, you kn-know. Restore Gotham."
Ra's took an indifferent look.
"Mr. Crane, you are no different from any of the men that come to me. Do not take offense to this. Only good men make it past the front door. But you fear me, Mr. Crane. For good reason. You are a thinker, not a fighter. A man with any sensibilities would fear me. It will be a pleasure to do business with you."
Ra's extended his arm and helped Jonathan back to his feet in an effortless, and almost weightless movement.
They trekked back up to the warmth of the temple in silence. Even when they got inside, Crane couldn't stop shivering for some reason.
"Mr. Crane, I've got some business to attend to, so I'll show you to the front door and have Jiro give you a ride to the airport."
Ra's snapped his fingers, then walked away. A man dropped from the celing with an utterly bored look on his face not even pausing to look at Jonathan before grabbing his sleave and pulling him towards the front door.
"Wait…how do I get in touch with Ra's…."
"He will contact you." Jiro snapped.
They came into a huge room where two huge iron doors with etchings of bats loomed over the simple wooden-clad Asian temple. Jonathan took one last glance at the temple behind him, everything starting to haze a bit, the darkness past the hallway getting darker.
There, above the entry stood a shrine, with two crossed sticks of incense burning below a textured and dark iron piece of a bat nailed to the wall.
Jiro gave Jonathan a rough tug, and he was caught unaware as the stinging cold filled his body outside the temple.
Part II
Jonathan woke with a start, freezing. His comforter had fallen off during the night. Jonathan sighed, pulling it back up around himself. The warmth started in his face. Ra's had told him that he was no different. No different.
No different.
No different.
No different.
No different.
No different.
No different.
No different.
No different.
No different.
No different.
No different.
No different.
No different.
No different.
No different.
He had always been different. He had always been special. Isn't that what his mom and dad used to tell him? They wouldn't lie to their special son. That's what his teachers told him. He was special. Best grades. College professors. The best school. Liked among his peers. Productive. He was sure as fuck special. That's what he told his patients. He was special. That's what his patients told him when they sheathed themselves completely inside him late at night, during room checks.
He would simply unplug the cameras; the guard was a narcoleptic, anyhow. That's precisely why he was Crane's first choice for the job.
No flying, insane, spoiled freak of nature would take his special title from him. He could run fast. He was special at running. He grabbed a candlestick and headed to Bruce's room.
Bruce had on his reading glasses, and was flipping through a packet of expenses lost and gained at Wayne enterprises, when Jonathan burst into the dimly lighted expanse of the master bedroom.
Crane shut the door behind him, and lifted the candlestick.
Before Crane could take another step, Bruce had delivered a roundhouse kick to Crane's hands that sent the metal flying clear across the room.
Crane shook out his hands and jumped on Bruce, knocking him back against the bed and to the floor.
Bruce, struggled for a moment against the hail of weak punches, and then easily rolled on top of Crane, who was straining and yelling beneath him.
Bruce figured that it was a good thing that Alfred was at his niece's tonight.
Crane found it evident that he could not surpass Bruce in physical strength, but mentally, he could tear him to pieces.
For a moment, Bruce, had Crane's hands pinned to the floor, and that's when Jonathan struck.
He smiled that coy smirk. The one that made Bruce's stomach tense, and his breath hitch a bit.
With his graceful hands, Crane wrapped his fingers around Bruce's, and pressed his lips to the other man's.
Crane teased the roof of Bruce's hot mouth with his tongue, bringing it under afterwards, in a swirling motion, drawing Bruce's pale pink tongue into his own mouth, gently sucking on it. He quietly moved his head back to rest against the floor, still smiling that smile, and kissed a flushed, and panting Bruce's fingers.
Bruce looked at him through lust-heavy, half-mast eyelids, and already looked freshly fucked. He was painfully hard against Crane's thigh.
Pity. Tonight's games had just begun.
Alright! Hope you enjoyed it! Next chapter is going to be rated MA for some squicky physical and mind fucking. So, review, like the good god-fearing citizens you are and read on at your own pleasure, or risk. Some people get off on the whole adrenaline thing.
-Masked Men