Jane's eyes moved across the scarred topography of Bane's skin, he was devoid of shame or embarrassment in being nearly naked and exposed under her eyes.
He didn't completely know how to interpret the manner in which Jane looked at him, whether her gaze was purely clinical, or if there was more.
Bane's gut was frequently stabbed with a sharp spike when her eyes found his, leaving him wondering if her look held the potential for more, if she'd ever look at him the way in which he wanted.
Jane's voice broke him out of his fugue.
"Tell me about this one," she murmured as she ran the pads of her fingertips along a rigid, six-inch scar down his midsection, the surrounding tissue firm from calcified tissue under the skin.
Bane gently captured her wrist, not interfering with her continuing to smooth her fingertips up and down the long-healed wound, merely to keep her within the arena of intimate exploration.
"Will you give me more Jane?" Bane asked as he tightened his hand around her wrist, just a bit, just enough to draw her eyes from his scarred flesh to his unblinking hazelnut orbs that pulsed with barely dormant chestnut fury.
"Tell me what was done to you," Jane rebutted, her tone close to a demand.
"The time to discuss that will come later," Bane growled, taking a deep, ragged inhale as he sat up straighter, reaching out and closing his other hand around her free wrist, attempting to be aware of the bruised, discolored skin.
Her wrists swollen, resembling overripe plums, the wet flesh ready to burst through with the weight of a fly as it landed on the stretched tautness.
"You're hurting me," Jane spit as he pulled her closer.
"Listen to me Jane," he roared, continuing before she had a chance to acknowledge his words that echoed throughout the veritable interior of the van originally intended for transporting the dead. "I'm prepared to offer you everything, absolute devotion," he added, his tone holding back the power of the ocean as he never let go of her wrists.
"And I just have to trust you, believe?" Jane asked, letting out a breath when Bane relaxed his hold on her wrists.
"What I can I give you that's tangible?" he countered, pulling her closer towards him until she was forced to settle on his lap, her thighs falling to either side of his waist.
Jane shook her head as her body began to unapologetically react favorably to being closer to him, the emotions in diametric opposition to her brain's fight for control.
"Tell me how you received this," Jane murmured as she pressed her fingertips around the long-healed scar, never taking her eyes from his.
Bane blinked first before he indulged Jane's line of questioning, patently aware that she was not going to answer his question first.
He shifted his grip from her wrists and guided her fingertips along each scar and imperfection that distorted the surface of his bare, muscular body.
Jane's breath caught in her throat and her chest tightened as Bane stopped walking her down his botched surgical memory lane as he smoothed his hands under her shirt and up her sides, tracing his fingertips along the outside of her breasts.
The removal of the chest tube had alleviated the lion's share of his discomfort. Jane's thighs, which fell to either side of his hips was a soothing balm, causing his feeling of control to rapidly wane as she began to tremble under his hands.
"Wait," Bane demanded, trying to be conscious of how assertive his touch was as Jane seemed like she was going to try and squirm out of his lap.
She gave a surprised squeal as he wrapped her up and pushed her down to the surface of the pushed together gurneys. Jane tried to push herself up but was prevented as Bane settled over her, close to aggressive as he pushed her shirt up to the middle of her back.
Jane forgot what she was going to say in protest when Bane pressed his lips to the center of her spine, kissing a path further up her back, pushing the shirt out of his way until he could press his lips to the base of her neck.
Bane kept Jane conflicted as he smoothed his hands around to the front of her body, cupping her breasts.
Bane growled with primordial pleasure as he slid his hands down to her hips, tugging her upwards as he shifted, making her gasp when she felt his cock press against the curve of her bottom, growing rigidly thicker as he smoothed one hand to the apex at the center of her thighs.
"What can I give you?" he rasped, his voice strained, struggling to not tear off her clothes before taking turns sliding his tongue, fingers, and cock into her wet, tight holes.
Jane could hear the need saturated in each of his ragged syllables.
When she didn't answer, he shifted his hold on her before urging her to roll onto her back, tracing his fingertips along her jawline, coming to rest against her lips.
"Talk to me," Banee stated, his tone urgent, almost a demand, not giving her a chance to answer before he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her until she was breathless. "Tell me what you need," he added in a strained growl as he buried his face in the curve of where her neck and shoulder met.
Jane stared up at him, acutely aware of her shirt barely covering her breasts.
She took a sharp inhale when Bane's large hand settled on her bare midsection, spreading his fingers, a five-limbed octopus claiming its territory.
"I don't want to keep driving, running, hiding," Jane started when she found her voice, smiling as she added, "not sleeping in stolen vans."
"No more running," Bane echoed as he pressed his lips to hers.
"No more hiding," he murmured, his voice lowering as he slid his hand up the front of her body, dragging his fingers along the underside of her breasts.
"No more sleeping in vans," he rasped as he slid his hand to cup the fullest part of her breast, squeezing lightly as he looked up at her, adding with a heated smile, "I'm taking us to our own place under the sun, you'll have to endure a while longer in the van until then though."
His tone was disarming, making Jane return his smile, "I can live with that."
Despite the neutral expression on Bane's face, inside, his brain was alive with activity, his nervous system was electric.
Bane wanted more from Jane.
He wanted her out of her clothes.
He wanted to touch and taste her, watch her face as he made her climax.
The air in the stolen van was warm, charged with a spiciness akin to a day inside of holiday cooking while in the heart of Gotham City, the morgues were being overrun as Bane's followers methodically carried out every one of his orders.
Bane's words spoken in the firelight along with the Eucharist of booze, bread and hope reverberated in the front of every one of his disciple's minds.
They didn't need to wait for a Christ to come back to earth to save them.
They were all living in the presence of their God.
Bane's disciples didn't know that he had no plans of dying for them or forgiving them of their transgressions.
Amidst the encampment, someone's brain began a slow approach towards a hemorrhagic stroke, an artery began to lazily leak blood, applying just a kiss of pressure to the brain cells, a rupture was imminent.
At the Gotham City Police station turned crime scene but still working station, Special Agents DC and McKay helped the understaffed, overworked morgue and medical examiner techs zip up Blake's body in a royal-blue cadaver bag and prepare him for transport to the morgue.
GPD's insurance required an autopsy and Blake would end up being opened from stem to stern and scrutinized down to a cellular level by Arlene Bell. She'd note he was healthy; cause of death was the bullet that had ripped through his brain.
Inside the stolen morgue van, their temporary home, Bane murmured lowly to Jane strained reiterations of no more running.
Miles and miles away along the rugged coastline and jutting rock formation where Bane had poured Talia's ashes into the rushing water, the individual grains that remained of Talia cried out at each syllable Bane whispered to Jane. Each fragment of pulverized bone shook with rage at Bane's promises delivered in a strained rasp.
Jane's gentle gasps and moans made the flakes of Talia that swirled amidst the flotsam and jetsam of the Atlantic Ocean vibrate with fury as she heard Bane's urgently whispered declarations of devotions to Jane.