Rated M for sexual situations.
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Chapter 6
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Raven leaned heavily against the wall of her room, another wave of a headache ramming into her skull. She slammed her mug down onto her dresser and clutched her head, waiting for it to pass. It took longer this time, and it left a stale ache behind her eyes.
This wasn't good. She could practically feel her emotions battering against her mind, screaming her name and demanding to be let out. She had thought allowing her sides freedom would help her—and it had—but now the plan was backfiring in the worst of ways.
Beast Boy. It all came back to Beast Boy.
Her conversation with him had been relatively civil, but it was the small things that he had done that had gotten her blood boiling and her emotions in a frenzy.
The tug on her jeans.
His hand in her hair.
That he had made her laugh.
The way he had looked at her from across the elevator doors.
Every one of those times she had felt a tingling in the pit of stomach and heat rise at the back of her neck. He had said that he didn't even think about the things that he did, a clear sign that his actions were done naturally and with no intent behind them.
It meant that they were nothing to him.
But they were something to her. They held in them all the years she hadn't been held, hadn't been touched, hadn't been shown any sort of physical affection for fear of what it would coax out of her.
When he would press her into the counter as a form of teasing it surprisingly didn't affect her as much; because it was an empty gesture, just another challenge to frown at. Monsters and villains had grabbed at her, pinned her to the ground, connected their fists with her stomach. All challenges. All met with a frown.
When he had tried to kiss her hand in the alley it had been juvenile, a mock gesture between friends. She had let Starfire braid her hair, hugged Cyborg, let Robin place her arms when they were training. All simple gestures. All between friends.
But when his face was worried, when his eyes looked at her in captured attention, when the fingers through her hair weren't just there to be there—were concerned—it added something to his touches that hadn't been there before. It made them personable, and making them personable made it something exclusive between her and him. And if it was just her and him, if it didn't happen with anyone else, then it made her feel, and making her feel made her feel lustful.
Because she was still a girl, and any girl would take notice to the way he had grown over the years, the dedication he had put into his training coming across in his actions as well as his physique. Her starved body would crave for more contact, for more sensations, for more more more. But more was dangerous, more had always been dangerous for her, and so she would quell it. Pretend it didn't exist. Bury it away in the deepest recesses of her mind.
But now, as yet another wave blasted through her skull, she knew that confinement had turned her desires into a slave, and years had turned that slave into a vengeful monster wracking at her brain and making her physically and mentally sick. She tore off her blouse and jeans, slipping into the first pair of sleep shorts she could find and the Doom Patrol shirt she had tossed on the floor earlier. The loose clothing was less constricting, let her breathe easier, but she still felt terrible.
Meditation. She was tempted.
She began to dry heave and the muscles in her stomach clenched painfully. That disturbingly primal side of her screamed for an out, and all its rage was filling her mindscape to the brim, to the point where even her subtle, easier to control emotions were beginning to press for release. She staggered to her bed and crawled on top of it, burying her face in the cloth as she reached for her mirror lying innocently on the sheets.
Her fingers closed around the handle but didn't move beyond that. She just lay there, a sweating mess of internal conflict.
She was desperate for liberation. She had been doing her best to preoccupy herself all day but to no avail. Maybe, if she could just let out one of her more cooperative sides, then she could—
No.
No.
Her grip loosened on her mirror.
It was too dangerous. She had already returned from a transfer in a less than favorable position with no indication to how she had ended up in such a risqué outfit. The next time could be worse. She couldn't make that gamble, no matter how much pain she was forced to endure.
She coughed and flipped to her side, unconsciously dragging her mirror closer to her. She felt like she was filled with sand, the grains weighing her down, the pressure wishing to be poured onto the floor and out of her body.
Meditation. She was tempted.
Instead Raven closed her eyes and hugged her mirror to her chest, willing herself to calm down. Breathe like a normal person. Relax her body.
She didn't even notice when she fell asleep.
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That night Beast Boy had a dream.
About Raven.
She had come to him through the darkness, making her presence known through touch before sight. He had imagined he was lying in bed staring up at his blackened ceiling when an unseen weight settled onto his mattress and an invisible intruder tugged at his blanket. Before he could turn to see who it was icy fingers slid there way over the thin layer of his shirt, tracing a line across his abdomen to settle against his other side. Softness pressed against his shoulder and the feel of skin caressed his thigh.
He should have been shocked by the sudden invasion of his bed, but he wasn't.
A face was lifted to his ear, his hair tickled by a subtle breath.
"Warm me."
A command in Raven's voice.
His dream-self offered no hesitation. He lifted his arm and she slipped under, shifting her body to lie on top of his, her shorts bunching as her legs straddled his own. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight, forcing his body heat through both their clothes. Without warning she leaned down and seductively pressed her lips to his cheek, his jaw line, his neck. Her hair dragged across his face. His body reacted without his consent.
He felt a pulsing at the base of his stomach and he knew she could feel his arousal rise with every kiss she placed. Her hands touched his hair, his shoulder. She nipped at his neck and bit gently at his ear. His body shuddered. She twisted her fingers into the fabric of his shirt and slowly, teasingly, ground her hips against his.
He gasped at the sensation, held her tighter. She pressed her cheek against his and he could feel her smile. She repeated the motion, slower, more pressure, her mouth opening in a painfully alluring sigh. He made a noise and she did it again. And again. And again. A steady rhythm that made him squeeze his eyes shut and grimace in delight.
He couldn't remember if his dreams had ever felt this real.
She trailed her hands down his arms, her chest pressing into his, and took hold of his wrists. Guided his hands down the sides of her waist, past the curve of her hips and settled them against the swell of her rear. He gripped, pushed her harder against him, bucked his pelvis into her. She made the noise this time and her hands flew to his shoulders.
Her speed quickened and the friction against his length increased. She was grinding into him, his erection hardening with every tantalizing stroke. Even through their clothes he could feel her warming up and it drove him crazy to know that their layering was keeping him from feeling the true extent of that warmth.
Who knew Raven could seem so inviting?
He couldn't think how long they continued. A few minutes? A few hours? Time was nothing to him. All he could think about was her body and his and how his mind wanted him to be more adventurous.
She pressed a hand into the mattress, her body curving and arching as she grew more aggressive. They were both panting now. His bed creaked under their hunger. He growled, held her tighter. She tugged at his hair and whispered into his ear. One word at first. Repeated between gasps.
Garfield.
His name.
He asked her for more. Tugged at the hem of her shorts. She laughed, low and sultry. Asked him how far he wanted to go. He didn't really know and stopped tugging.
She reached past his head, taking hold of his pillow. She leaned down to his ear once more, her motions slowing to a stop. He made a disappointed sound. She whispered to him, and her tone carried with it dissatisfaction and cruelty.
"You should have said 'all the way'."
Before he could open his eyes she yanked the pillow out from under him and pressed it against his face. Smothering. He tried to cry out and inhaled fabric. He flailed, reached for her, tried to push her off. She swiftly adjusted, pressing her knees into his arms, pinning him to the bed. He tried to transform. Found that he couldn't. He was suffocating. She was laughing. He couldn't breathe. Hours ticked by. His arms fought against her legs. He seemed to be dying forever.
Her knee slipped and his arm broke free, swinging up with force and throwing her off of him. He sat up, screaming, yelling, gasping for breath. His eyes were wide.
Bright, harsh sunlight poured in from his window. He had forgotten to close the curtains the night before. His alarm was blaring on the shelf above his head. His blankets and pillows were on the floor.
No one else was in the room.
Beast Boy was breathing hard, his heart pounding laboriously. He looked around wildly, his senses on alert, his mind panicked. He wasn't dying. He was alive. It was morning. He seemed fine.
He gradually started to calm down. He flopped backward, his head hitting the mattress. He clutched at his shirt.
A dream.
It had only been a dream.
He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands.
Beast Boy had had a dream.
An erotic dream.
About Raven.
He groaned.
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She opened her eyes with a sigh. She felt groggy and heavy but her head was no longer pounding, so she decided it must have been a good night.
But then she lifted her face and noticed that she wasn't in her bed. She was on the floor of her room, curled up against her door. Her back ached. Her mirror lay discarded at the foot of her dresser, far from her reach. She frowned.
She tried to remember if she had ever slept-walked in the past before.
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It was nearly an hour later when Beast Boy finally rolled out of bed and convinced himself to go about his business like it was a regular day. He decided a rigorous morning workout would help ease some of his tension, so he holed himself up in the gym for a good hour in an attempt to sweat out his frustrations. Then it was a long—and very cold—shower.
All morning he had gone over the dream in his head, reliving what he could remember. Details were starting to slip through his grasp, but the gist of what the dream meant was clear as day: he wanted Raven. Had wanted her like that for a long time; had been fighting with himself to admit it, but if the end of his dream was any indication, Raven was far from feeling the same way about him. And he knew it.
It should have made him feel sad, to say the least. A girl he cared for emotionally and yearned for physically was actively keeping out of his reach. But despite the depressing notion of it all Beast Boy couldn't help but recall how good he had felt in the dream.
He was, after all, a guy.
He had made sure his cold shower was nothing less than an icy maelstrom.
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Raven sat cross-legged on her floor, meditating. She refused to use her mirror, but it seemed as if a good night's sleep had been exactly what her inner turmoil needed. Her emotions were thankfully quiet, and it allowed her to focus her mind with ease. She took her time reveling in the simplicity of silence.
When she felt centered and at peace with herself she started getting ready for her day. After a warm and lingering bath Raven was halfway through putting on her costume when she abruptly stopped and took it off. She dug through her drawers and pulled out a shirt and pants instead.
It was rare for her, but she did not feel like being a hero that day.
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Beast Boy's morning had been mercifully empty; he hadn't seen anyone in the hallways. It wasn't until he had settled himself down with a sandwich and the book he had borrowed from Raven did he have his first interaction of the day. Robin came striding into the main room in full uniform, one hand filled with papers and the other clicking away at his comm. He set down his things to grab a cup of coffee and Beast Boy asked him what he was working on and Robin asked him why he wasn't dressed in his suit.
He was looking into Dr. Light's stolen technology.
He didn't feel like being a hero today.
The two had laughed at Beast Boy's reasoning. It had been a long-standing joke between them; a far off dream neither of them ever wanted to come true. It had opened the gates to a fair amount of reminiscing about battles won and lost, times when the team had been at its peak, and times when the team had been on the brink of quitting. It was a rare moment when Robin seemed more like a friend rather than the Boy Wonder.
It hadn't lasted though, as rare moments are wont to do. Robin had effortlessly taken a segue towards his pile of papers, explaining the extent of the research he had accumulated, but it wasn't enough. He needed information from other sources, other places, and so he needed to contact Titan's East. Yet there was so much to be done in the city, what with the prison still needing help with a containing cell for Plasmus, and would Beast Boy do him a solid and hail their east coast friends in his stead?
It wasn't on Beast Boy's top ten list of things to do for the day, but it wasn't in anyone's nature, (or best interest), to refuse Robin. Instead he just heaved a dramatic sigh and finished off his sandwich, holding out his hand for the papers.
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Raven thought about Beast Boy.
She sat on the rooftop, thumbing through some of her spell books, but her mind wandered back to the day before. Without warning Beast Boy's face sprang up in her mind, the look of patient wanting she had seen before the elevator doors snapped closed on his face. She sighed. She was never good when dealing with guilt.
Because she was perfectly aware that she had dealt with Beast Boy in the worst of ways. Despite everything, despite her own conflicting feelings, he had been her friend for years. He deserved much more respect than she gave him.
She sighed.
It was just hard sometimes. He wasn't like the others. Robin, Starfire, Cyborg…they knew the extent of her limits, knew how far they could go before her barriers went up. But Beast Boy didn't.
Didn't know?
No. He knew.
And it wasn't as though he didn't care. He just didn't believe that a life at arm's length was one worth living.
Did she appreciate that?
Not usually.
But then there were those other times when she did. Appreciated it. Sometimes him more than his actions. It was just…
She closed her book and looked out over the city.
Appreciation, when nurtured, could grow into something more. It would always turn into something more, and more was what she had issues with.
Still.
The look in his eyes from across the elevator.
He hadn't deserved that.
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Admittedly it took a couple of hours before Beast Boy actually did make the call. He finished a few chapters of his book first before taking a good amount of time just relaxing in front of the television. He dreaded the alarm being sounded and the team forced to convene and face a villain in the city, but thankfully his day was quiet. He spent forty-five minutes playing video games with Cyborg when he came in from the garage, but when the mechanic hero claimed it was time he did some repair work on the T-sub Beast Boy knew it was his time to get to work as well.
He trolled the halls semi-cautiously, wondering if he'd run into Raven and if it would be awkward based on their last conversation and his dream.
The corridors of the Tower were void of her.
When he did finally see her it was well into dusk, after he had had ample time to let the dream fade in his immediate memory. He was in one of the various conference rooms, using the communication systems to get information from Titans East. He was just finishing with a video call from Aqualad when the door slid open behind him. He didn't look at first, figuring that it was Robin coming to check on him.
"I'll send over what we've gathered once we hang up," Aqualad was saying. Beast Boy nodded to the six foot screen on the wall and leaned back on his hands. He had settled himself on the conference table, the papers spread out around him. "Just let me know if you guys need anything else."
"Thanks Garth," he said, saluting him. Aqualad smiled on the screen and then his gaze shifted to the person who had just entered the room. He nodded to them.
"Hey Raven."
Beast Boy tensed at the name but didn't show it outwardly. He waited until he heard her quiet footfalls walk farther into the room and looked up only when she stood next to him. She waved at the screen but her eyes were on him. Solemn. Quiet. At peace. The calm that she brought in with her made it hard for him to remember the anger from the day before.
"Hey," he said. The greeting came out easily, and he was glad for it. The dream still hovered at the back of his mind, but now that she was here he found that it dimmed in her actual presence. He subtly admitted to himself that the dream had been pleasing, but it would have been more so if it had been real.
"Hello," she replied back. She indicated the papers. "Working?"
"Don't I always?"
She shrugged. "Of course you do," she said simply. Beast Boy raised an eyebrow at her levity.
"After all, I am the brains of the team," he went on.
"Without a doubt."
"Getting things done and all."
"We'd be nothing without you."
He frowned at her. "How is it that you can make praise sound so condescending?" It made him happy to see her grin.
"It's a gift," she said. On the screen Aqualad cleared his throat, shooting the pair a knowing glance. They looked up. "I apologize for interrupting."
"Not at all," he said, although he did offer a mischievous smirk. "I was just about go. I'll send over the stuff in two minutes," he said to Beast Boy before waving to them both and signing off.
"Information on Dr. Light?" Raven asked as Beast Boy hopped down from the table. He kept a good amount of distance between them as he reached to gather his papers, nodding in response to her question.
"Some pretty intense stuff, too. Looks like someone broke into one of S.T.A.R. laboratories and stole some blueprints similar to Cyborg's, but there hasn't been a report of an infiltration at the labs around here. Hence, the call to the east."
"Mm," she replied, and he was surprised by her apparent lack of interest. Raven never lacked interest in team affairs.
"Not controversial enough for you?" he asked good-naturedly. She sighed and shook her head.
"I'm sorry. All that is very important, but there are other things on my mind."
"Like what?" He finished lining up the papers and set them down just as the computer beeped and the printer whirred to life behind him.
"You."
His gaze shot over to hers in a heartbeat, his hands falling uselessly at his sides. Beside him, a good five feet away, Raven was looking at him blankly, her arms crossed over the dark blue of her tunic shirt.
"Me?" he asked, and he hoped he didn't sound so anxious. She nodded.
"I wanted to apologize. About yesterday." She looked down meekly and then back up at him. "I'm sorry," she said solemnly. "That was…rude of me." She sounded sincere. He ended up just shrugging and shooting her a small smile.
"Yeah, well, it'll take a lot more than that to break a decade long friendship." And he meant it. He turned to the printer and stared down at the scrolling papers, wanting something to look at other than her face. Things were just in the process of being okay between them, and he didn't want to ruin it by making the same mistakes he had done the day before.
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Raven heard his words and knew that they were nothing but truth. She was grateful, as she often was for his carefree use of emotions. He could anger within seconds, and yet forgive just as easily. There were no restraints to his feelings, which was what she found most annoying and most endearing about his personality.
She leaned against the table as Beast Boy commented on the amount of paperwork the printer was giving him and noted that it would keep Robin in his workroom for hours. He chuckled to himself and glanced over to her, telling her to remind him to bring their leader dinner that night.
She smiled at his thoughtfulness.
Maybe carefree was giving him too little credit.
She continued to watch him as he dutifully began sorting through the new pile. He continued to complain about the pencil pushing no one was aware heroes had to go through. She agreed, although she admitted that she didn't find it as burdening. He said she was crazy.
"I could take care of the rest of this if you want," she offered. A kind gesture. That was part of apologizing, right?
"Thanks, but I doubt Robin would appreciate me dumping this on you, even if you offered. You know him."
"Yeah." She glanced at the stack he had left on the conference table. No words were spoken for a bit. They listened to the purr of the machine. "What are you doing when you're done?" she asked, and he turned to look at her.
"If the villains honor this unofficial day off, then nothing. Why?"
She shrugged. "Chess?"
He beamed in response, nodding enthusiastically.
"Down."
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It was as if the day before hadn't happened. Here was Raven, lounging with him in the conference room and asking if he wanted to play chess with her. He was almost embarrassed with how secretly happy he was.
Keyword being 'almost'.
He picked up a pen from the computer desk and started scribbling some notes along the margins of the papers, jotting down things Aqualad had mentioned that weren't in the initial report. Behind him Raven said that she hadn't eaten yet and he offered to cook her something.
She made a disgusted noise and made a jab about tofu. He shot back a retort. It wasn't a good one.
They continued to make small talk about food, and Beast Boy was absolutely elated. She was joking with him, responding to him. When she made fun of his purple shirt he threw his pen at her. She didn't flinch when it stopped inches from her face and landed on the floor.
"Such a gentlemen," she quipped. Beast Boy rolled his eyes and grabbed another pen.
"You deserved it. Purple looks great on me. It's part of my uniform."
"Yeah," she scoffed. "Hint hint." He shot her a narrow-eyed glare. She playfully wrinkled her nose at him. He quickly looked back down at his papers to hide his smile.
It went on as the printer continued to do its work, and when the last page slid out into Beast Boy's waiting hands he gathered up the information from the tray and the table, anxious to get them to Robin so he could meet Raven in the main room. She nodded as he prepared to leave, saying that she'd set everything up. Maybe even brew them some tea.
So generous of her.
He felt like a schoolgirl with how giddy he was.
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She realized she liked watching him work. It was a rare sight, but a pleasant one.
When he started to leave she sat up from the table, telling him everything would be set up in the main room in ten minutes. He nodded and she took pride in the smile that graced his face. Seeing it lifted her guilt.
On his way out he paused next to her, his gaze lingering for just a moment. Raven knew the look in his eyes and suddenly and instantaneously tensed. It was usually a predecessor for his intimate touches: a tug at her shirt, his knuckles gracing across her cheek, a friendly pinch at her side. She had been so caught up in their comfortable conversation that she had let her guard down.
This was still Beast Boy, and he wasn't known for breaking habits overnight.
Seconds passed.
Nothing happened.
He just flashed his signature grin before continuing on his way, leaving the conference room with a wave and a promise to meet her later. Raven stood rooted to her spot in his absence, wondering why she felt…disappointed? That was what she was experiencing. She could feel the hollowness of disenchantment, the tingling crashing of hopes held high. But why?
Had she wanted Beast Boy to touch her?
Of course not. That was the point of almost everything.
Maybe it was because she had been anticipating it that made its nonexistence so apparent.
Yes. That had to be it.
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Beast Boy marched through the hallways, blowing his breath out with each stride. He quietly congratulated himself on a spectacular performance as he hurried for Robin's workroom.
Standing that close to her, looking down at her with such elation in his chest, had been utterly intoxicating. Their closeness itself nearly brought him to habit, and he had been dangerously close to running his hand through her hair or touching his fingertips to her delicate chin. But he had caught himself in time, determined not to ruin the tenderness between them.
Usually he would have considered his hasty retreat a loss.
This time he praised it as a win.
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It was the most tension-ridden game of chess he had ever played.
They were alone in the main room. They rarely spoke.
Silence pressed in all around them, save the occasionally thud of a piece being moved on the mahogany board or a grunted question and a barely audible reply.
Below the table Beast Boy's leg was inches from hers. He did his best not to bump his hand against her own when their moves gained speed.
When she would sit in silence and scrutinize the board he couldn't help but stare at her.
He wanted more than anything to sit next to her.
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She could feel his eyes on her every time she looked down, and she would have been lying to herself if she claimed she did not like it.
She had never felt comfortable being stared at, but this time it was different.
She almost wanted him to stare at her.
Keyword being 'almost'.
She noticed that he refrained from any sort of physical contact, going so far as to quickly retracting his foot when she shifted in her seat.
More disappointment flooded her, and she felt guilt claim her all over again. She hated feeling like a hypocrite.
She wanted to look at him but was too tentative, too shy.
So she focused on his hands.
Large, but lean.
Scarred and familiar.
Weathered from combat.
Practiced in placing a wooden knight perfectly on its square.
Knowing fingers, experienced palms.
Caressing against her side and gripping her with ferocity.
Raven felt her stomach clench at the sudden thought and she almost jumped in her seat. She panicked because she could almost feel his hands on her, feel their weight on her clothes, his heat seeping onto her skin.
She reached forward and swiftly responded to his chess move, sliding her bishop up four spaces.
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Her hand shook. Beast Boy watched as she quickly drew it back, sliding her sleeve over her fingertips. He frowned.
But said nothing.
Instead he used his rook to capture her pawn, and before he had even placed the piece on the table she reached out and claimed his rook with her bishop. Her fingers closed around the small castle, started to pick it up, but her grip was too weak, too trembling, that she dropped it.
It clattered to the board.
"Rae…"
Without thinking Beast Boy reached out and took her hand in his own, wanting only to stop her shaking. His fingers closed around hers and she looked up into his eyes, something she hadn't done the entire time.
They froze.
She didn't move so he didn't move.
Their hands were linked over the chessboard, his thumb against her wrist. His skin against hers.
They stared at each other.
He saw her chest begin to heave, her breath coming quicker and quicker. He could feel the pulse in her arm quicken, and wondered if she was feeling what he was feeling.
The chaste touch of his hand on hers had opened a floodgate of anticipation and angst. The silence around them became unbearable, the table between them turned into a nuisance, their game suddenly seemed childish and petty. He was struck by his wanting, unsure of whether he wanted to caress her or bruise her. Definitely not the sort of thing he was supposed to feel proud of.
The rapid way she was breathing unnerved and excited him, but he remained motionless, staring into her eyes, waiting to see what she would do.
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The amount of lust coursing through her was not normal. His fingers on the delicate skin of her wrist was like acid, and she was finding it hard to breathe. When she looked into his patient, waiting eyes a thousand different things went through her mind. She wanted to throw him down onto the table, feel her hands against his bare stomach. She wanted her fingers to close around his neck, feel him struggle beneath her. She wanted his lips on her body, his blood in his hair. She wanted him to scream, to moan, to call out her name, to beg her to stop, to choke as he passed out. She wanted him to tear at her clothes, ram his hips against her own, watch him grimace from her fist, watch him grimace in his pleasure. She wanted the distance between them gone. She wanted it to be bigger. She wanted to scream.
But, most of all, she didn't want him to let go.
His touch was painful, alarmingly so with the amount of desire it inflicted on her, but she knew that if it were gone she would crumble. He had stopped her from shaking.
But now she was breaking.
If he saw the conflict of yearning and disgust in her eyes he didn't show it. He didn't move, but she couldn't seem to keep still. Her heart rammed against her chest, threatened to swell and implode. Her head pounded.
Around them the silence was overbearing, broken only by the miniscule sound of a million tiny cracks marring the face of her motionless, mahogany queen.
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They were saved by the gaudy entrance of Robin, Starfire and Kid Flash.
The double doors slid open and the trio entered with an animated conversation, none of them acknowledging Beast Boy or Raven as they strode into the kitchen and Robin fetched them all water bottles. According to their discussion Kid Flash had followed a villain into the city and, when he was done with him, had decided to stay the night at Titan's Tower. Robin and Starfire seemed pleased.
Without a word, without hesitation and with an amazing amount of mutual consent, Beast Boy and Raven withdrew their hands; not too slowly, not too quickly. They continued to stare at each other, the chess game between them completely forgotten. It was a good five minutes before Starfire called out their names and, with all the normality in the world, they looked over and waved a 'hello' to Kid Flash before forcing themselves to join the fray in the kitchen.
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They did not address what had happened. The rest of the evening was filled with laughter and camaraderie and Beast Boy and Raven both played their essential parts: Beast Boy offered his unwavering and unabashed silly humor while Raven delivered her dry, sarcastic remarks with practiced resolve. After a plethora of card games, movies, power level comparisons and way too much junk food, the heroes finally decided to call it a night.
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Beast Boy dreamt of Raven again.
She came to him as before. Seductively. Sensually.
He welcomed her into his arms just as easily and she laid her body against his just as gracefully.
This time though, when she bent down to press her lips to his neck, he cupped her face with both his hands and drew her to his mouth. Her sharp intake of breath was all the consent he needed, and he rolled to his right, pressing her back into the mattress and pinning her arms on either side of her head. He fit his legs between hers and forced her knees apart, earning another surprised but very satisfied gasp from her lips. He pushed himself against her, made it no secret that she piqued his interest, and took primitive delight in the way she moaned against his mouth.
He continued to move against her, their layer of clothing only a minor nuisance in the sensation of the act. She rubbed the inside of her thigh against his hip. He growled into her neck and moved faster, harder. When she asked what he wanted he didn't answer, just gripped her wrists harder and kissed her with all the tension he had endured over a simple game of chess.
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Raven's dreams that night were jarring. Electrifying. Haunting.
When she woke in the morning she couldn't remember a single detail of them.
She was back on the floor of her room, her mirror underneath her window this time, and her clothes wrinkled, disheveled. There was sweat on her brow, her muscles ached and she couldn't get her heart to stop pounding. Her skin tingled, she couldn't get enough air into her lungs and her head felt empty.
Drained.
Hollow and miserable.
She rolled onto her back and ran her hands through her hair. She vaguely wondered if she was going crazy, and then wondered even more if she'd be able to notice if she was going crazy. Then she pushed the thought aside forced herself to get up.
No meditation today.
Not at all.
She didn't like waking up on the floor, and she had the eerie feeling that her emotions were taking advantage of her sleeping form.
So no meditation.
At least she had stayed in her room.
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When Beast Boy opened his eyes to a new day all possible thoughts of guilt were absent to him.
He had enjoyed his dream, had taken full advantage of his blatant subconscious.
He stretched his arms over his head and felt powerful.
Was this turning into obsession? Maybe. If he trailed after Raven all day and used his fantasies to satisfy his needs at night then maybe it was an obsession.
He passed a hand over his eyes, remembering what it had felt like to kiss her, to dominate her, to hear her tantalizing moans of pleasure when his hands had explored beneath the fabric of her shirt.
Yes. It was turning into an obsession.
But, for all his realization of the matter, he couldn't seem to conjure up the smallest amount of disapproval.
And, to be perfectly honest…he liked it that way.
.
.
.