Chapter 6

Author: Almost...through the...bog...just...keep...going...I promise...it gets...BETTER.

Thank you Siennax3 and Paige for your reviews! You get special imaginary 'SPACE STICKERS', because I had space on the brain as I wrote some…bits…later…in the chapter…Peanut butter jelly too. You two rock and I really appreciate you taking the time to post a review. It definitely encourages me to write and release a chapter faster knowing that there is someone out there who at least moderately enjoys this story

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman or any of the characters within the franchise. I own the original characters of this story as well as the plot that are not directly tied to the movie.

Myra was eventually released during the third week of being confined to the hospital. The decision was strongly motivated by overcrowding of the hospital and lack of medical personnel to provide constant patient observation; other patients became more prioritized based on their own assumed mental state and due to the length of Myra's stay, she was eventually pushed out.

Once out, she was relocated across the state to a group home. She had initially contemplated taking the extra measure of changing her name legally, wanting to erase the embarrassment that was Myra Bell, but decided against it. She was already exhausted physically and mentally; having to go through the paperwork, procedures, and remembrance of a new name seemed beyond her capabilities at the moment.

The first feeling that Myra felt distinctly once settled in her new environment was that she felt like she was living inside an empty shell. She couldn't decide whether it was because she was so thoroughly spent both emotionally and physically that she had simply become a walking husk, or if it was something else. She didn't even complain or take much notice to the fact that she now had to share a bedroom with another individual from the group home environment. She had no desire to learn their name, who they were, or why they were also in a similar situation. She simply ignored them, reverting back to not wanting to make any connections with anyone.

After a week of the group home environment, she was transferred to her own single bedroom apartment down the street. She felt herself ease considerably after being granted this spatial freedom, letting herself push against the confines of her consciousness and the possibilities that were laid out before her. The possibilities weren't spectacular, given her current state.

They provided her assistance in finding part time work at a local library, where she worked in the mornings until noon. After noon, she went home and generally lay on her bed staring at the ceiling or napped. She would wake up in the evenings to go for a walk, favoring a bridge that was under construction and was always absent of walkers and traffic. She would then walk home, eat microwave food in front of a television, brush her teeth, then go to sleep only to wake up the next morning to repeat the process.

Myra knew she was released from the hospital prematurely. While she wasn't outright told the reasoning for her release, she knew the lack of positive reinforcement (i.e. "You're doing spectacular! Great improvement! Amazing attitude!") was a tell-tale sign that she should probably have prolonged her stay until she was out of the 'red'. However, having loathed her stay and the constant observation they afforded her, she made no move to voice her opinion on the matter.

Some days she felt moderate and indifferent about her current life prospects. Other days she would spiral down a deep dark black hole. It was almost like a game of Russian Roulette every morning in terms of what kind of day it would be for her, and how she was going to deal with it. She felt like the more and more she continued on with her routine, the more often the internal revolver would settle on the 'deep dark black hole' shell casing.

This particular morning as Myra woke up, she definitely felt an internal 'click' indicating the internal revolver cylinder settled on the 'deep dark black hole'. She struggled to get out of bed. She struggled to eat her breakfast. She struggled to get to work at the library doing mundane work. She struggled with the concept that someone had the ability – the power - to make her feel this way. She struggled knowing she was the cause of the deaths of several police officers. Simply put, she struggled.

After making her way home from the library, she took a short nap which also was a struggle. She struggled to get up from her nap so that she could go on her routine walk down to the bridge and back. She trudged along the side of the road in a large winter coat, pushing snow and ice against her boot as she did so, her eyes cast down. As she made her way to the bridge, she let her eyes wander around, the wind making an eerie buzz in the air as it wound its way in the trees that framed the road perpendicular to the bridge.

She bypassed the roadblocks indicating that traffic wasn't allowed on the bridge due to the state of construction. She made her way to the middle of the bridge, hearing the rumbling of the near-frozen river raging far below. She eased herself towards the fence barricade along the pedestrian foot path that ran alongside the road on the bridge. She gripped the cold metal bars in her palms as she eased herself up, discovering that the ease and decided nature of her current actions were the first thing she wasn't struggling with in days.

Myra eased herself over onto the opposite side of the fence barricade and looked down at the water far below. Her mind was a combination of numb and being in a state of overstimulation. The whole ordeal she had suffered through the previous weeks, the foreign and new emotions she was dealing with, feeling responsible for the needless deaths of three officers (and for what? for who?), her situation in life, her feelings of betrayal – they made her mind shut down in an attempt at preservation, internally knowing she was being overwhelmed and bombarded and it was best if her mind shut off to reboot while it had time to filter and sort the feelings and thoughts she was experiencing.

During one of these internal mental 'reboots', she would experience a moment of serenity as her mind was momentarily cleared of her troubles and struggles. Her pupils would dilate, her chest would open – it immediately became easier to breath – and she would feel hope. Then, almost as quickly as feelings of optimism rushed over her, they would get flushed out and replaced with renewed thoughts of despair. It always crushed her, and it was always worse than the time before. She was experiencing that right now.

She let one of her arms go so she could lean forward even more to gaze at the expansive distance between where she stood and the water below. She wondered how far down it was. She eased her grip on the bar to stretch herself out just slightly further, not sure if the feeling of numbness that was taking over her body was the feeling of the frigid cold water air wafting up at her, or if it was her rebooted emotions reclaiming her senses.

"What are you doing?"

Myra heard a voice behind her ask angrily, startling her, almost causing her to lose her grip on the bar hold. A hand shot out and held onto her hand, obviously prepared for that scenario.

Dying. Myra tried to focus on the face that was inches from hers, remaining silent.

A pair of muscular hands grabbed her by the coat fabric at her shoulders, hauling her up and over the fence abruptly and non-too-gently before settling her down on the safe side of the fence, roughly turning her around before taking a step back to inspect her.

Myra's vision was blurry as she tried focusing on the individual who had pulled her off of the edge. Am I dead? Did the devil himself come to bring me down to hell? I don't remember the fall…he certainly looks angry like a devil…

Bane stared down at her with his arms clenched onto the scruff of her jacket, anger radiating off of him. What he saw returning his gaze was Myra looking worse for wear. Her eyes were dull, sunken, with impossibly dark circles half-rimming her eyes. Her skin was pale, with one distinct line running along her jaw indicating a freshly healed wound that had required stitches. She didn't struggle, but simply looked as if she didn't fully register who it was that had pulled her over the barrier; she looked confused as if she had been expecting someone else.

When her eyes finally focused and she had a moment to take-in his mask and his eyes to identify him, her eyes remained dim but she had the look of comprehension instead of confusion infused in her gaze.

"How did you find me?" she asked quietly, emotionless. Small cloud puffs erupted from her lips, indicating the cold temperature.

He furrowed his brows at her in confusion, her question indicating she didn't want to be found.

"I will always find you," he said in what he hoped was a soothing whisper and not laced with the insinuation of a threat from the anger he was feeling.

Bane brought a hand up to touch her cheek, letting his eyes hover over her diminished appearance and faint traces of facial injuries she had endured during the hostage exchange. They infuriated him. They made him want to go into a rage, aching to redeliver the blows upon those who caused her pain. Perhaps Myra saw the feral glint in his eye as he pondered these thoughts, for when he lifted his hand towards her face, she flinched away from him, pushing her shoulders up and cringing. The way she responded was as if it were Bane himself who was the one who physically assaulted and injured her. Bane removed his hands from her jacket, taking a step back from her and dropping his hand to his side, slowly clenching and unclenching his fist.

In all the time that Myra had been with him, even from the start when they knew nothing about each other when she was just a hostage from the stock market and he her captor, she had never reacted so negatively to him as if she feared physical rebuke. He felt his chest constrict with emotion.

"You recoil from me?" he wheezed out with a puff as if he didn't have enough air, his voice high. Myra didn't respond, instead turning her head to the side to avert her gaze while bringing her hands up in front of her chest like she was clutching the handle of an invisible shield. He watched as her whole body began to tremble. She looked terrified, and it outright crushed him.

"Why did you come for back for me," she finally responded, as if she were saying, "Why did you even bother."

Bane paused to ponder that question himself. He knew the arrangement he had with Myra couldn't last, considering Tahlia's impending plot to blow up Gotham (which of course Myra had no knowledge of, yet) coming near and his own decision to forfeit his life for Tahlia's scheme. Perhaps he wanted to feel something innocent and pure before he died. Someone who brought him genuine joy and pleasure. Someone untainted with revenge, a heart untainted from living in hell on earth; something that unfortunately Tahlia had fell victim to. It most certainly would have been easier to have simply abandoned Myra after the hostage exchange. Bane was not here out of convenience. He knew Myra had sacrificed a portion of her humanity the day she intervened between him and the three officer's to prevent his own injury and possible death. He knew that was something she would never be able to recover, like a gaping hole in her side that she would have to live with for the rest of her life, and considering the empathetic and moral person that she was, she would suffer for it. As he saw her suffering now. He did not take that knowledge lightly.

He wanted more than anything to reach forward and comfort her, to feel her, but instead opted to give her space while he attempted to amend the situation with his oratory skills.

"The hostage exchange didn't go accordingly. Your injuries were a mistake. He was punished severely for hurting you."

Bane hoped this news would ease at the very least her trembling, but instead he felt that her trembling may have even increased possibly due to the threatening tone he subscribed to due to the passion and anger he still felt at how the event unfolded. He gave out a sigh, his mask emitting the puff of air like a ventilation machine, which of course had the inadvertent effect of frightening her further like he was a steam engine ready to plow her down.

Bane kept his eyes focused on her, silently imploring her to look at him. After several moments of her trembling and inching away, he surrendered. He dropped down to one knee, hoping that his diminished height may make him appear less threatening. He gazed up at her, her height now just inches taller than he was kneeling, letting one hand rest on his bent knee while the other hand outstretched towards her as if professing a poem to a long-lost love.

"I apologize this happened to you. Please understand I will do whatever I must to make amends. Please come home."

Myra's trembling did subside and even ceased after he dropped down to his knee, the hands clutched at her chest relaxing as she contemplated his words, her shoulders relaxing marginally. Come home, he said. Where was home for her? She certainly didn't consider the place she lived in now to be her home. She also wasn't sure if she considered Bane's base as her home either, although something there did make her feel 'at home' on more than one occasion. She inwardly tried to determine what it was that made her feel 'at home', if it wasn't the concrete location.

As Myra witnessed him dropping to his knee, she also felt unsettled – disturbed, almost. Never had she witnessed Bane allow himself into any position that would be deemed compromising or submissive. Her eyes softened at this display, feeling awkward and uneasy as if she were seeing a great white shark strutting on land, completely out of its element, and suffering because it wasn't back in the ocean where it could thrive. Bane saw the physical reaction his words had on her as if they were gently coaxing her out of a cocooned shell. He decided to continue on, knowing the butterfly wasn't out of her cocooned prison quite yet.

"Please, Myra. I need you with me."

After several moments following his declaration, and Myra's inward logic in deciphering the true meaning of 'home' coming to a conclusion, her averted eyes slowly lifted to his. He wouldn't have come here if he didn't want me back…Bane let his outstretched hand open invitingly towards her, knowing she had to reach for it; she had to accept the invitation. He couldn't force her. Myra lowered her eyes down to the outstretched hand displayed before her, inviting her, compelling her to reach forward and take it.

Several moments passed which felt like an eternity to Bane before she let one of the hands still clutched at her chest fall slowly and almost reluctantly forward until they rested in his much larger one. She wanted nothing more than to rid herself of the feelings that had plagued her for weeks and knew one of her only chances was giving in to him and letting him convince and comfort her.

Bane seized this opportunity immediately to physically (albeit gently) coax her between his bent knees and into his chest before wrapping both of his arms around her possessively. Myra turned her head away from him but rested her cheek on his shoulder as both of her hands came up to clutch at his chest. Bane responded by letting one of his hands glide up her back and behind her head, cradling her head against his shoulder.

"I won't allow anyone to harm you ever again," Bane murmured through his mask against her ear.

Oh yes, Myra thought inwardly. This is it. This is what 'home' feels like. Bane began to rock her gently in his arms, breathing in her scent and warmth through his mask not realizing how much he missed it until the prospect of him possibly never being able to hold her again was realized. His arms reflexively squeezed around her harder at this notion.

Myra shifted her face to plant it into his shoulder, burying it into the fabric of his jacket.

"You're crushing me," she muffled into his shoulder, choking slightly to make her point.

Bane eased the hold he had around her, lowering the hand that was cradling the top of her skull to cup the base of her head, his fingers trickling through her hair. His other hand began to move up and down along her spine in a soft repetitive motion. Myra continued to keep her face turned downward against his shoulder as the fabric of the jacket he wore captured and absorbed the moisture that had formed at the corners of her closed eyelids. Her hands clutched into the lapels of his jacket, her grip tight as if she might suddenly fly up and away at any moment like a butterfly taking flight. They stayed that way for what felt like hours before Myra finally spoke.

"If I go back, I have conditions," Myra said this with a note of conviction in her voice.

Bane leaned back, easing the grip he had on her to look at her and bringing both of his hands to rest on her upper arms as if to steady her, curiosity evident in his eyes and the rise of his brows.

"You do, do you? Pray tell, may I ask what they are?" he asked curiously.

Myra wiped the moisture from her eyes with the back of her sleeve as if she would be taken more seriously without the evidence of emotion on her face. She knew she must look like a wounded child who stumbled into a parent's awaiting arms for comfort after a bloody stumble particularly since he was kneeling down to accommodate her, practically dwarfing her while she stood between his knees.

"I want to be useful. I don't want to sit around doing nothing all day. I want a job. Not…not a job that involves hurting people. But I still want a job. And not a job that keeps me at the base all day either," she stammered out quickly.

Bane continued to raise his eyebrows at her, giving her a show as if he were strongly contemplating her words carefully and considering it, but knowing before she even proposed her question that the answer to her condition was going to be unquestionably 'yes'.

"Very well. What else?" he replied simply.

Myra was somewhat surprised at the ease of Bane accommodating her request, thinking he would put up more resistance. She continued to wipe her eyes as her eyes shifted around momentarily as if she were unprepared for this 'list of conditions' so instead decided to look for the first ounce of inspiration to come to her in her surrounding environment.

"I want to be able to order food any time I want. Like pizza," she blurted out, as she saw a pizza delivery truck snake its way along the road perpendicular from the bridge they were on.

Bane humored her by treating her request as if it were of extreme importance and the severity of it was mission critical. He nodded slowly, letting his brows furrow in concentration at this additional request and never letting his eyes leave hers.

"Hmm….that may be difficult…but we'll see what we can do," he replied seriously.

Myra gave her eyes one final swipe of her sleeve to erase the last remnants of moisture before bringing up both hands to rest on his shoulders, searching his expression for any additional conditions she may have missed.

"I don't want to sleep on a cot anymore. I want a bigger, nicer bed. One that can fit two people," she stated as if affronted by the fact she even had ever slept in a cot.

Bane, once again, respectfully acknowledged her condition but it was particularly difficult to not let show the hint of a smile seep into the corner of his eyes.

"How many more conditions do you have? I'm starting to reconsider…"

Myra pursed her lips at him, giving his shoulders a tight squeeze as if to warn him into silence.

"I suppose these conditions can be arranged. Granted, there may be times when I'm away and may be unable to accommodate you fully. However, all other instances I will do my best to accommodate you and your 'conditions'," he said in what sounded like reluctance.

"I'm not done," Myra said hurriedly before he did indeed decide that her requests were becoming too many. She let the hands that were rested on his shoulder slowly move to touch the sides of his mask, her eyes dropping to it. Fixating on it. Bane knew what she wanted without words needing to be spoken.

Bane's brows dropped, the hands that were holding her upper arms falling down her arms, settling them there as he contemplated her unspoken request. He searched her eyes momentarily before reaching back and unlatching the hardware that held the mask to his face. He took one huge breath into his mask before slowly easing the mask away and setting it next to his calf.

Myra's eyes wandered over his exposed face, seeing every scar and pore up close made her feel like she was being indulged in something rare and pure. She inched her face closer to his, her eyes locking onto his lips; large luscious, unmarred and perfect. Bane knew what she was after and let her stare for several moments before he leaned forward.

Bane's lips made contact with hers almost hesitantly, his actions uncharacteristically tender, unsure, and lacking the same confidence and conviction in which he performed every other task in his life. Myra was bemused by the slight awkwardness and shyness of his action, wondering if he had even kissed a woman before. Or my awkwardness rubbed off on him. Despite this, Myra had never felt anything so delicate and pleasurable against her lips before in her life. She knew as soon as his lips made contact with hers that the relationship that they had formulated had transcended into something else. Her eyes fluttered closed, her lips instinctually responding by brushing against his with delicate swipes. Bane brought a hand to lock behind her head to ensure she didn't pull away, although he knew she wouldn't.

Bane watched her face as her eyes closed in content, his own lids falling partially down but not fully closing. Seeing the expression on her face as their lips met was almost as pleasurable as the act itself, and he didn't want to miss seeing the range of emotions that danced across her face. Bane eventually became emboldened and exploratory, his lips moving more vigorously against hers before his lips parted and she could feel the tip of his tongue tapping against her top lip as if asking for an invitation inside.

Myra complied readily, hungrily, opening her mouth for him. His tongue was immediately inside hers, exploring and tasting her. The hand that he kept at the back of her head entwined into her hair, gently massaging it as well as guiding her head into an angle that gave him deeper access into her mouth as he continued his oral exploration.

When Bane's tongue retreated back to his mouth, Myra allowed her curiosity and desires to take hold as her own tongue followed his into his mouth. She tasted him as he tasted her. He tasted like burning wood, almonds, and pure unadulterated masculinity. Myra couldn't get enough of it, her hand coming up to the side of his face, exploring it and roaming his skin now that there was no impedance of the mask to get in the way of her affections. Her hand wandered over and around his scalp, loving the smooth baldness of his head she could now feel so freely. Her hands rested on and fingered his ears, exploring the contours and softness of them. They seemed uncharacteristically soft and delicate.

All things must come to an end, however, and Bane used his hands to gently coax her away as his chest and spine started burning from the lack of medicine being pumped into his body. Myra was reluctant, almost belligerently so, but acquiesced after keeping their lips together for one more brief moment, a string of saliva connecting his lips to hers as he eased his head away before he put his mask back on. His hands fell to his knee to leverage himself as he pushed himself into a standing position. He towered over her as he stood, his breathing somewhat irregular and strained as it readjusted to the resumed inflow of anesthetic medicine.

"Let's go get your things before you decide you have more 'conditions' you'd like to declare," Bane said with strained humor, his voice and breathing huffy. Myra looked up at him, giving him a nod as a smile slowly blossomed on her enflamed lips.

Myra and Bane eventually made their way off of the bridge, Myra leading the way with Bane walking just at her shoulder. They didn't touch or hold hands, but Bane observed a slight spring in Myra's step that could only indicate her elevated level of mood.

They walked approximately a half a mile in the cold, the sun slowly setting at their backs. Myra finally led them down a street lined with townhouses and apartment complexes. She walked to the end of the street to what Bane assumed was where she lived, as she made her way up to the entrance. She took out a key and opened the door, holding it open for him as they both made their way inside. They climbed the three sets of stairs and walked down a quiet hallway before entering Myra's apartment.

Bane observed the state of disarray and filth that had piled up in Myra's apartment. He gave her a look of disgust, clearly judging her. She stared at him back, challenging him, understanding his judgmental look was directed at the state of garbage strewn everywhere.

"You live underground in the sewers like a mutant, okay? You can't judge me," she said sassily. "Besides, I wasn't expecting to come ba-…."

She felt like she suddenly slapped herself in the face. She stopped herself abruptly before fully completing the sentence, shocked that she had been able to say it so matter-of-factly. Casually.

Bane's eyes refocused on hers after giving one glance around the room, noting the severity and implications that her simple declaration held. They were both silent for several moments as they looked at each other before Bane turned to approach her slowly. Myra felt embarrassment and shame creep up her spine and decided to look down at the carpet.

"I have a condition of my own," Bane said gruffly, bringing one of his massive hands up to cup under her chin to ease it up so that her line of sight was aimed at his. Her eyes resettled on his as he made this statement, even going so far as to raise her eyebrows out of curiosity. Before she could even ask what his condition was, he leaned forward to wrap his arms around her waist, lifting her up bodily and slinging her over his shoulder like a rolled-up rug, his hand rested on her rump to help maintain her balance as he sauntered into the bedroom.

Bane sauntered right to the edge of her bed, leaning forward to drop her onto her back with a bounce on the bed. He immediately leaned his body forward over her, trapping her, using his arms as support on either side of her body as his face came within inches of hers like he was about to propose a secret in a very crowded space. Myra could feel his breath on her cheek as it was expelled through his mask. She assumed the condition he was going to declare had a playful nature and had something to do with both of them engaging in an activity on the bed, but she was proven wrong by the words that came out of his mouth.

"You are mine. That is my condition. If something or someone harms what is mine, there are consequences. Even for you," Bane said, heavily implying if she thought about harming or hurting herself out of grief, he wasn't going to tolerate it.

She knew he wasn't saying it to frighten her necessarily, but to imply something else; almost as if whatever he considered 'his' (which, as Myra observed, wasn't a lot considering the communal way he lived and his lack of possessions), that fact implied a certain level of revere and care to those who interacted with what was 'his', even if it was Myra herself.

Myra gave him a thoughtful look as he said this, digesting it before she let her lids drop skeptically.

"I'm assuming that goes both ways, right?" she said snidely. "That means you're mine too?"

Bane gave her a look as if she were the densest person on earth.

"Of course," he said with a half-nod that enforced his sincerity. As if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She let her skepticism ease considerably as a smile bloomed at the corner of her lips which induced a chain reaction of muscle relaxation and untensing throughout her body. She reached up with one hand and trailed it down the front of his chest.

Bane observed her reaction and what he assumed was her agreement to his condition. He kept his face close to hers for several more moments before he leaned back up off the bed. He removed his coat and threw it onto the floor, which was soon followed by his boots, socks, long-sleeved shirt, back brace (which he put on the edge of the bed so he could re-attach it after the rest of his clothes were off), pants, and underwear. As he was removing his clothing, Myra reclined back against the bed, snaking one of her hands behind her head to be used as a pillow and also as slight leverage so she could watch him undress. Bane picked up on her idleness immediately, however.

"Do you plan on just lying there or are you expecting me to do the work for you?" Bane asked haughtily between the removal of his long-sleeve shirt and pants.

Myra curled her toes against the hard exterior of her boots as he said this, the smile that was on her face inching upwards even more.

"I want you to do it," she teased, deciding she'd prefer that option now that it was incepted into her mind.

Bane stared back at her as she made her preference known. His eyes bore into hers, his eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated on the task of removing his clothing. Once his underwear was off, his attention dropped to aid in reinstating his back-brace hardware in place. When he lifted his eyes back up to Myra, he saw she was giving his nakedness a very thorough look-over. He let out a snort that could have been easily interpreted as annoyance, though Myra sensed no displeasure from him other than the fact that he now had the extra task of removing her clothing as well, which he didn't seem to object to.

Bane decided to tease her by being methodical and slow with his movements, hoping to build up a moderate level of sexual frustration on her part. He started with her shoes, bending down on one knee to perform the task. Her feet were half sticking off the bed, so he pulled her by the foot just slightly towards him as her body slid against the bed about a foot in his direction, her clothing scrunching and catching between her body and the bedding. He guided one of her boots to rest on his bent knee like a prince testing out the fit of a glass slipper, unlacing the boot with care and making sure the laces were fully released and loose before he grabbed the tongue of the boot and eased it forward. He slid his hand over her socked foot at the calf, popping her foot out of the boot and dropping it to the floor. He held onto her foot between his massive hands, massaging it gently with his thumbs before his hands glided upward, encircling her calf. As his hands came back down her calf, they snagged and caught the sock that she wore. He slowly rolled the sock off of her foot, all the way down to the tip of her toe, before he plucked it off and tossed it aside next to her boot.

Myra adjusted her head and angled it so that she could gaze at him and watch the spectacle, her chin pointed down and rested on her collarbone. She kept her hands idle with one still behind her head and the other now rested on her stomach. She knew what he was doing, and despite his attempts at frustrating her over his leisurely methods, she was enjoying it immensely. How couldn't she? Her feet had ached prior to her boots being removed, and now that they were removed, they even had the added perk of receiving a generous massage from Bane's strong and talented hands that left them tingling and feeling light. She wasn't sure if her smile could get any deeper.

Bane looked up to meet her gaze between switching to replicate the treatment to her other boot, seeing her gazing down at him with a deep smile plastered on her face. The look she gave him unburdened some of the load he felt deep in his chest that had been tugging at his heart. It also unfortunately meant she wasn't as impatient as he had hoped for but was immensely enjoying the experience.

When he was finished with her feet, he adjusted his legs from underneath him so that he could slowly rise up and over her. As he did this, he firmly planted his hands on the exterior part of her legs, gliding them along the fabric of her pants but giving her skin and muscles periodic squeezes and rubs as he did so. When his hands reached her waistband, he lifted her shirt up to expose the button and zipper that kept them fastened around her waist. He slowly unbuttoned the button, letting his fingers curl behind the pant fabric and brushed a finger against the skin over her stomach. Myra noted that the index finger that he used to brush against her stomach lingered and stroked in ways that were not conducive to unbuttoning buttons.

Once finished, he unzipped the zipper slowly to expose gray-blue pair of underwear beneath her pants that matched the shade and tone of her eyes. Myra arched her back teasingly as he did this, the fingers she had on her stomach fidgeting lightly against her skin as she eyed him. Bane didn't linger but sat back away from her so he could grab the bottom hem of her pants at either leg hole. He suddenly – and aggressively - yanked her pants off with one tug, catching her mildly by surprise and also forcing her to glide and inch towards him on bed due to the pants not immediately coming off.

"Hey! What happened to the gentle guy approach, huh?" Myra snarked.

Bane ignored her, realizing he was punishing himself far more than he was her over his own choice of methodology. He decided it was time to accelerate the removal process before he burst. He leaned forward to grab her roughly by the arm, pulling her towards him so that he could force her arm through the jacket sleeve she was wearing. She realized his 'gentle guy' approach was gone as she looked up at his eyes and saw a heated fervor and determination take over. She decided it was in her best interest to aid him in the rest of the removal of her clothing unless he started resorting to just shredding her clothing off.

Her jacket and shirt came off easily and were piled on top of Bane's on the floor. As she reached up to unfasten her bra, Bane reached forward and ripped the bra clean off at the front center, easing it out of her arms and throwing it on the ground.

"HEY NOW…. it would have taken 3 seconds to unfasten it…." Myra chided, turning to look at the shredded bra topping the pile of clothes on the floor.

Bane, as typical of most of her complaints, ignored her and moved down to the remaining piece of clothing she wore. He eyed her gray-blue underwear, and they too received the same treatment as her bra. He tore them at the side seams, unfolding the fabric and exposing her flesh delicately as if he were opening up a fragile birthday present. He then reached under her bottom and took hold of the remnants of the underwear and tugging them out from under her, tossing them with the rest of its comrades on the floor.

"Whelp, there goes my favorite underwear. That color is hard to find…." Myra sighed as if that was the only thing that mattered in the room and the whole world depended on their survival.

"I'll get you new ones," Bane said absentmindedly, something else clearly consuming his mind. As if it were as simple as that. Myra just narrowed her eyes at him, though she knew she wasn't truly upset about it but just liked complaining at him. Most of the times he didn't respond, probably picking up on the fact that most of her complaints were superficial or nonsensical. When he did, however, it always brought her amusement and delight.

Bane let his eyes roam over her entire exposed body on the bed as he stood up. Myra maintained her position on her back with her feet hanging off the edge of the bed haphazardly, one hand still behind her head being idly used as a pillow while her other hand fidgeted on her stomach. While he was gazing at her, the smile that had faltered momentarily from the clothing-removal process regained its place on her face. Her knees had been firmly pressed together, but she let them slowly ease apart teasingly, invitingly, as her eyes fell down suggestively to his unavoidable and large erection pointing right at her.

Bane took the hint and instead of leaning forward over her, he reached forward and grabbed hold of each of her calves and yanked her closer to him, her bottom scooting to the very edge of the bed. Keeping his feet planted on the carpeted floor, he pushed her knees apart wide as he stepped forward, positioning one of his hands under her bent knee pressed at the side of his waist with his other hand reaching forward to begin probing her glistening folds.

He was extremely thorough and generous with his caresses, teasing the swollen flesh between her thighs and encouraging her into a greater state of arousal and readiness for him. Myra maintained eye contact with him as he performed this task, though she felt her hands become restless as her hand reached down and stroked the forearm that was attached to the hand that was giving her goosebumps.

Myra felt lightheaded; she felt like she was an exclusive member to a playground that was Bane's body. As she thought this, she bent forward at the waist, leaning up to glide her hand over his exposed chest, feeling the muscles and the heated skin underneath and letting her hand roam almost on its own accord. She loved exclusive memberships. Especially when she was the only member.

Bane pushed her back against the bed aggressively after several moments of her restless hand syndrome, holding her down as he continued delving a finger around and inside her opening. Sometimes he would utilize two fingers, inserting them into her in such a way that caused Myra to arch her back aggressively and squeeze her eyes shut before she felt their removal. They would then circle around and coat her opening with the lubricated jelly they had captured inside of her, preparing her for what was to come.

Myra knew he was done with his finger task when he wiped his fingers against her inner thigh like he was cleaning off a knife that needed to be cleaned of excess peanut butter, leaving a light glossy patch on her skin reminiscent of a snail trail.

Bane used his 'cleaned off' hand to grab hold of his penis, casually steering it towards her entrance like he was docking a space module onto a space station. Once the tip was in, he didn't hesitate – or possibly couldn't constrain himself – from aggressively thrusting his hips forward to fully enter her, easing his hips back to immediately repeat the process of propelling his hips forward again, giving her no time to properly adjust to him and his size. Bane felt no serious impedance, however, due to her elevated state of arousal and her body already being intimately familiar with him and his size.

Myra gazed up at him in awe, feeling some sense of power transference with every thrust he delivered into her as if she could feel his essence, authority, and power being funneled into her at their physical joining. She could feel it snaking around inside of her, a tingling feeling that made her feel bolder, assured, and safe. Home. She felt it like pin-pricks on her fingertips. She felt it numbing her toes. She felt it heating her core. She felt it glaze over her eyes as moisture budded against her eyelashes. She could barely make out the impossibly muscular, dominant man who was unquestionably fixated on her, devoting his entire attention on her, as her eyes became fully laminated with tears from the feeling of an orgasm slowly rising and erupting in a sudden burst of energy. She closed her eyes as it took hold of her body and senses, her body clenching around his.

Myra felt herself relating very strongly to an éclair pastry that had been filled to the brim with pastry cream. She was no pastry, however, and it wasn't pastry cream that she felt being pushed deep up inside of her center with force that felt like jet-like propulsion. Bane forcefully came inside of her moments after he felt her body squeeze around his, expediting his release. He exhaled a lower powerful grunt during the ordeal, inexplicably causing Myra's toes to curl.

Myra's eyes slowly opened after she released a huge breath from her chest, her eyes roaming from the ceiling down to Bane, who looked dazed and spent as his head shifted to look around the room idly in exhaustion. He refocused his attention on her when he realized her eyes were open and her attention was on his. He slid a hand from under her knee up to her thigh, holding her in place as he slowly removed himself from inside her with extreme care.

Bane massaged her thigh affectionately before roughly grabbing it to twist and flip her onto her stomach on the bed, giving her a playful swat on her exposed behind.

"Time to get dressed," he ordered with a slight wheeze indicating he was still recovering from the exertion of their actions. Myra turned and looked at the shredded underwear and bra topping the pile of clothes, and then turned back to him to give him a very disagreeable look.

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