Chapter 10
It was midmorning when she woke. Nightwing was still asleep, arms tightly wrapped around her. This gave her time to think; her thoughts wandered to memories. Raven realized that she could remember feeling safe in the past. She could also remember feeling satisfaction. But she could not remember ever being happy.
When the priests of Azar asked what she wanted she had said she wanted happiness with a man. Have you ever felt happiness?they had asked. No. Then how can you be so sure you want it? How is it you're willing to risk so much to have it? That had stumpped her. She wanted him to be safe from her and with her and she with him, but she didn't want to have to be apart from him to do this. This she explained to the priests. Ah, they had said. It is happiness that you want. When she asked how she'd be able to recognize it when she was feeling it they had described it as a satisfied security in any given moment. This puzzled her, since (as she was currently reflecting upon) she could remember feeling safe and satisfied.
Now she understood the subtle, indescribable difference. It actually felt like several emotions and feelings combind to make one; there was relief and a lightness within her. There was lathargy and tingling. There were his arms around her, his scent (also wrapped around her), his legs entangled with hers and his breath, a whisper of sweetness on the back of her neck.
Gently, she rolled over to face him. He made small sleep noises as she moved but otherwise didn't sitr. The happiness trippled as she gazed at his face. She bit her lip to keep from laughing of sheer joy. Joy? This was all happening a bit to fast. She needed to ground herself in something immediate and concrete. Something like his face.
Lips. His lips were longer than one might expect. Right now they were set in a tight, straight line. One wouldn't think they'd be good for kissing, but at that moment Raven wanted nothing more than press her own lips to their softness, the only softness she'd yet discovered on his body. Well, there was the skin on his... No! CONCRETE! IMMEDIATE!
Brow. Usually in a scowl but relaxed for now. They were generally softer than one would expect for someone as serious as he was. It was acually his mask that gave that part of his face its sever shape, intimidating evildoers and the like.
Eyes. Closed as he sleept. But his lashes, longer than those of most men, rested on top of his cheeks, beautifully. She felt him brethe deeply and hold her tighter just as his lashes fluttered a moment before revealing the two shots of blue: sharp, altert and jewel-like, even in his first moments of conciousness of the day.
He smiled. All her giddiness faded away and she became mesmerized.
"I was worried you'd be gone."
"I'm here," was all she could think to say.
"Yes."
His eyes softened and he moved one of his hands to brush her hair out of her face. He pushed it back behind her ear, running his fingers there for a moment.
It was back, the Lust, so suddenly, just like the night before, in the alley. With a silent gasp, her lips parted as she realized it. There was mere inches between their bodies. Inches, sheets and clothes; barriers that shouldn't be there. With their mental link, the biggest barrier of all wasn't there, but that hadn't returned since the blast of dark energy she'd been hit with the day before. Still, she saw no reason why these physical barriers should be betwwen them. Good God, to tear off his clothes would be...
"Raven, where have you been?" he quietly asked.
She felt her chest tighten. Could she tell him? She wasn't sure what the rules were, and decided it best to keep the information to herself. He would want something from her, though. Anything less would be unkind. She couldn't lie to him, but would tell her own kind of truth.
"Waiting," she told him. Touching his cheek, she was deliberate in spreading her fingers and feeling his skin against her finger tips, officially confirming that this moment was real.
"For what?" He looked truly perplexed.
Now is the time of courage they were talking about, she rememberd.
"For this."
Drawing herself closer to him, she placed her parted lips against his own and was struck by the imense feeling of relief that came with the blissful softness of the kiss. Bolder still she grew, throwing her leg over his hip to roll him onto his back. Balancing her weight on his hips and on her two hands placed palm down on the bed at either side of his head, she deepened the kiss. When these fathoms had increased exponentially and had nowhere left to go, she lapped at his mouth in small, shorter kisses, as if he were a fountain for her three year thirst. All the while, his hands cradled her curves. From her hips to her upper arms, his hands were there, fluidly flowing over her flesh, though she could think of nothing usually more solid than his hands. Satisfaction. Yes. Security. Yes. And something else nawing at her insides.
Pulling away, breathless, she saw it in his face. Where was the satisfaction? The sense of security? There was just a longing and a sadness in his eyes. She felt it too (the nawing), and knew at once that things were going to turn out differently than she had planned.
RRRRRRRRRRR
Was this really happening? He wasn't sure that he could trust his senses. True, he could feel her lips against his, his hands on her body, her legs gainst his hips, her crotch rubbing against his... Oh, Raven.
This was definitely happening. But was it real real? Was this pitty? She had pittied him with her eyes the night before and it had hurt, but to pitty him with her body? This was going to hurt a whole lot more if indeed that is what it was. But if it wasn't pitty, what did he want it to be? Lust seemed too low for her and love... Love would make things very complicated. Do I want her to love me? What good would that do her; to love a man like me? A man. Human. And at the back of his mind he also wondered if he was doing all this wondering because he actually already loved her. It wouldn't be much fair if she loved me and I didn't love her. Can she love...?
She pulled away from him, stopping to stare down from her perch. She seemed confused by what she saw. It looked like she was trying to find an answer somewhere on his face. When she couldn't find it there, she trailed her eyes down his body, tracing his skin with her finger tips. He found himslef rubbing his hands along her thighs as she kissed his neck.
"Raven."
His eyes shut and he heaved a breath out of his lungs as her tounge slid over his nipple. Invountarily, his hips rocked up into her.
"Raven."
His kevlar pants were tight. Well, tighter than usual, and growing tighter by the minute. It seemed she must have sensed this thought, because her hands went to his waist band, lowering it slightly, then kissing the skin that was revealed. It took all his will power to yank her hands away.
"Raven! Why are you doing this?"
There was a curious glint in her eye at his question. "Why shouldn't I?" she asked in response.
Nightwing was speechless at the simple logic of her explination. Never was he without an arsonal of witty remarks, and yet no words could leave his mouth. Mmm, mouth. Raven's mouth...
With this final thought, he abandoned all doubt and let himself enjoy the wanton creature perched upon him, he too, becoming one. Mmm, mouth...
RRRRRRRR
There were things she remembered from the last time they were together, about how he liked to be touched, the secret spots on his body that made him impulsively twitch. For example, she knew that running her thumbs down behind his ears, along his jaw and to his lips sent a thrilling quiver through him. She felt it reverberate through his shoulders, and in his stomach and legs. She hadn't really been noticing then, but she now realized how much she'd learned about him that one time. That far away morning that she had been dreaming about for the past three years, since the moment she left the Titans, was feeling closer than it ever had.
Aparently, there were also things he had remembered. He, too, managed to find the places that made her flinch and gasp with delight. His caloused hands flew to places only he knew the meaning of. She wanted to tell him this, that no one had ever touched her as perfectly and wonderfully as he had, that she loved him, but there was one of those emotions that was stopping her. She still couldn't recognize them all right away. Was it Fear? What was there to be afraid of?
She barely registered when his nimble fingers found the fastening to her costume, uncovering her back, then pulling the material by its edges toward him, off of her chest and finally tugging at her sleeves, until the outer layer of her top half was removed. It reminded her that he was still half clothed. That needs to be fixed, she thought.
Slowly, methodicly, she peeled the bottom half of his costume off, every now and then scratching her nails on his skin, brushing her knuckles along his thigh. His body quivered again. She saw that his hands had balled into fists and that he was sitting up on his elbows. She watched as he watched her undresses him and then undressed herself of her few remaining clothes.
As she reached to pull down his last piece of clothing, (a pair of navy boxer briefs), he said something she wasn't sure how to inerpret.
"Raven," he said, taking one of her hands into his own. "I'm not the person I used to be."
Her other hand grabbed onto the waist band and she looked him directly in the eye.
"I'm sure some of you is still there, burried under everything you try to hide it with."
"If it is there, it's pretty small."
"Pretty small?" She couldn't help smirking as she peeled his underwear off, brushing against his member as she went. "You're really self depricating, you know." She said this last part as she wrapped her hands around his length.
A small, quiet hum of apreciation came out his throat.
RRRRRRRR
In her arms, he was at home. In her, he was in Heaven. Heaven and home. He had found them both in the same person, and when he looked in her eyes, he knew the feeling was mutual.
He sat up so that he'd be able to kiss her, and kiss her he did. For three years he'd burred it inside him and pretended it was gone. He'd hidden it from the world, even from himself, for fear of what it might do were it to be allowed to exist, even walled up in his memories. But it did exist, and she was releasing it: this passionate need to be needed... by her. Naturally a protector, he was needed by the city he defended, and it scared him to know that he needed her more than she could ever need him; he believed that she might have wanted him, but would never need him. It was the most dangerous thing he could think of feeling. In a line of work such as theirs, one needed to be poised, collected and centered. Never fight when you're angry. He'd been taught this. He'd been taught many things and been a perfect student, but nothing he had ever learned could help him comprehend the emotions he felt when he was with her. He had never felt so off-balance in his entire life. And that's saying a lot for someone who took his first on a tight-rope. It was like she was teaching him how to walk again. She was teaching him to remember home.
Home. That was what Hailey's Circus had once been. That was what Wayne Mannor was, sometimes, but he'd outgrown that place and left for Jump City.
But he would not think on those things until much later, when she had left again. Now here, now in her arms, against her body, he was home. He was safe and she held him there like an anchor. She held him. She cradled his head as he kissed her, embraced his body as he wrapped himself around her, wishing he could cover all of her, shield her, protect her, give all of his soul to her, just as any patriot would for his country, for his home.
And then she rolled her hips, and he was back in Heaven.
This was much slower than it had been last time. They had found each other and a rythem easily this time, meeting one another somewhere between their bodies and minds. Sublime and agonizing all at once; he let his body fall back to the bed and savored it while simaltaniously wishing to speed their motions. Thrusting up into her, he watched as she rode him, feeling something like a supernova building at his core, just at the sight of her. Her head thrown back, supporting her backwards bending, arched body with one arm, groping at his stomach with the other hand. He, too, groped at her waist, but also reached for the hand that reached for him.
Taking her hand, he held it still against his abdomen, thinking it might ease his spasaming there, but it didn't. Nothing would, except release. It was then he caught her fluttering eyes in a an unsteady gaze. They both struggled to keep their eyes open. He didn't want to blink and miss a moment of what was happening. He just wanted to stay here, inside of her, forever. By now, her pantting and small whines had turned to deep and full moans, the sound traveling to his ears, through his body, and down to the pit of his belly, right beneath where he held her hand.
Suddenly, he felt her tighten around him. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her forward. Thrown off guard, she gave a little yelp, but didn't miss a beat, keeping with the rhythm of their bodies, sliding against him, holding him tight inside her. Her momentary shock made him smirk with satisfaction. It seemed to be infectious, because a wide, challenging grin found its way to her face as well. Though it was difficult to think straight with her pounding him from above, he could recognize a challenge, no matter what state he was in.
Fiercely, he fisted her hair in his hand and pulled her head closer, catching her lips in a sense-exploding kiss. It was obvious she was letting him take control for a moment, allowing him to pry her lips appart, to change their pace, to turn her head where he wanted. Nightwing had always been one to go a mile when given an inch, and this was no exception. As he kissed her, he reached his hand down, between their bodies, and rested a finger against her clit, rubbing it with every thrust. This affected her increadably; he felt her body shake and waver in the rythem of their motion. Steadying her hips with his other hand, he urged her to continue.
He felt her tighten even more (was it even possible?) and she tore herself away from his lips, seating herself more upright to increase their pace. Steadying her, he held her torso, one hand at the small of her back, the other at her side, fingers spread across the skin and muscle that covered her ribs. Strength. He felt stength there, which is perhaps why he became afraid when he saw her eyes fall shut. It was a fear that he might never again see her quite like this, ravaging him in the midmorning, coastal light of Jump City. Was she not strong enough to keep her eyes open? He needed her to be strong for him, to compensate for all his weakness. He needed her, (as he believed) more than she could possibly need him. Could she?
"Raven," he rasped. She didn't respond. Again, he said her name, a bit more harshly, squeezing her side slightly. She opened her eyes.
"Keep your eyes open." Please need me...
"Dick, I can't..." she panted.
"Keep them open... Focus on my eyes...Don't let your sight go anywhere..." Please...
"Dick..." she began protesting, but here eyes stayed glued to his.
"Keep them open...Stay with me..." Need me...
A cry hitched in her throat more severly than before as he felt her climax begin.
"Stay with me..." he repeated, pleading, letting himself begin to let go, drowning in half lidded, twin pools of violet.
He saw the violet pools go wide and felt her... felt her. For the first time since the heocopter. Their mental link was back.
"Dick!" she cried, bupping his face. The world seemed to shatter as they came together. His eyes were open, but his vision was gone, as in that far away moment of rage, and was replaced by a hot whiteness; there were stars... stars... Star...
"... Stay with me..."
He no longer felt her.