Chapter 10
Author: Thank you *SOOOOO MUCH* Kai for your amazingly kind review. When I read it, I was like "OMG. YES. -teary eyed- THANK YOU". Carmen, thank YOU for your review! I'm glad you like the domestic side stories. I do too! I'm going to be sad when things suddenly turn…..ANGSTY. Nameless Guest reviewer: I appreciate you as well. I'm glad you found Bane's poutiness as endearing as I did. Reviews *REALLY* make my day. I love them. So, good job making my day you guys :)
I also *PROMISE* there is a direct correlation between how fast I publish another chapter, and feedback/reviews I get. Your reviews let me know you are reading it and even enjoy it! Even if you don't enjoy it, I'd love to know why! So if you were like….just absolutely anxious to want the next chapter to come out, you could feasibly clog my review section with nonsense. Or if you don't want to write a proper review, you could just review with a simple letter. Like "X". I'd know that you appreciate the story but are too lazy to write any sort of substantial review (I 'totally' understand that laziness. I'm all about that life).
I've really enjoyed writing this story; I love inserting humor into it sporadically. Bane is a *TEASE*. Go back and watch the movie. It's subtle, but it's there. Everything he does is a TEASE. He can't be that much of a tease without also being appreciative of humor. I like highlighting that aspect of his personality when appropriate. Anyways, enjoy!
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.
Time to Neutron Bomb Explosion: 3 Months
With the city in turmoil and general anarchy and chaos reigning supreme, some of that lifestyle slowly made its way into the penthouse building. Specifically, the 'lobby level'. This particular level of the penthouse building became the hot spot for prostitutes hoping to catch the eyes of one of Bane's men and sometimes Bane himself as Bane's men idled around waiting for their next orders. If Bane were king, and Myra were his queen, the lobby level would have been their court where all of their subjects congregated and festered.
It wasn't a terrible plan for the prostitutes to slowly inhabit the lobby level; most of the men under Bane's command had assumed, to some extent, that when the neutron bomb went off that they would die. This led them into seeking the comfort of a female, hoping to capture one last touch of pleasure before the inevitable. The prostitutes didn't mind because it meant a warm bed, safety, and a payment from the stash of riches that Bane's army had amassed from the social elite they helped pilfer.
Myra loathed the lobby level. She hated seeing the throng of women in revealing clothes with painted faces and fancy hairdos trying to seduce Bane and his men. She especially hated seeing the men sometimes grab or abuse the women in the open with no sense of justice or system of punishment in place. She despised the graffiti and filth that had piled up on the floor, including drug paraphernalia and used condoms. She also hated the lobby level because she was such a stark contrast to these women; Myra dressed with comfort in mind, never wore make-up, barely did anything with her hair, and absolutely detested any sort of attention directed towards her. She also was awkward; she didn't walk seductively, didn't flirt, and could sometimes be interpreted as having a 'resting bitch face' if having to navigate through the throngs of prostitute and men on the lobby level. Once in a while she would also get grabbed accidentally or a prostitute would even try and engage in some type of conversation, which she equally loathed.
When she got grabbed, it was usually by a soldier mistaking her for a prostitute. How they made that mistake was beyond Myra, but as soon as they grabbed her by the arm to flip her towards them to pull her closer and get her attention, realization would flood their face at the very serious mistake they made. All Myra had to do was furrow her brows at whoever grabbed her, and they would release her arm as if her arm had burned them like a hot stove top before they would quickly retreat in hopes of blending into the other soldiers before anyone noticed their mistake.
Myra was passing one group of idle, over-made-up prostitutes who were very obviously giving Myra a head-to-toe judgmental look-over as she ambled by. Myra simply sighed and ignored them, making her way across the room. She stopped in her tracks, however, after realizing she forgot her inventory checklist upstairs. She turned herself around to make her way back across the lobby level courtyard when she heard the prostitutes she had just pass talking, very obviously talking about her.
"She doesn't even try," one said.
"Doesn't he want something…else? More interesting?" another one said.
"It wouldn't be hard to get him to 'trade-up'. Especially if the competition is so pathetic. I bet the payment he would give would be to die for. She doesn't look like she is very adventurous; I bet he likes adventurous," one said with a suggestive wink.
"He doesn't know what he's missing. He'd kick her out as soon as one of us had a chance at him, crown a new queen if you know what I mean. Imagine that sort of privilege, being the boss's bitch," one said.
They all startled giggling amongst themselves.
Myra furrowed her brows, stopping before she got close enough to them where they would notice her. Boss's bitch. Ugh. Gross. They were also clearly insinuating that Bane was so flippant with his choice, as if all they needed to do was actually get his attention and it was game over for Myra. As she was pondering this, she saw one of the prostitutes nudge the leader of the small huddle of gossiping prostitutes.
"Look! Here he comes. Here's your chance," one said, giggling, nudging the leader forward towards Bane's direction.
Myra turned her attention to where the prostitutes were looking. Bane had entered the lobby level and was walking with determined strides across the courtyard. Myra inexplicably eased herself backwards into a better hiding spot, wanting to see this play out with her curiosity at maximum capacity.
Myra watched as the leader prostitute walked towards Bane, swinging her hips from side to side in a sensual manner. She managed to approach Bane from the front, but Bane very clearly either ignored her or didn't notice her. She then proceeded to follow him at his back shoulder. She quickly brought a hand up and started to lightly stroke a hand from his forearm up his bicep suggestively.
Bane suddenly stopped and snapped his head to the hand on his arm and then to the face of the owner of that hand. Myra saw him look her over as if quickly determining who is invading his personal space and whether they fall into the category of acceptable individuals granted access to that special privilege. The prostitute interpreted his gaze as admiration and interest, so she quickly leaned into him and let her hands continue to roam over his body as she puckered her painted lips up at him.
Without missing a beat, Bane reached up and bodily shoved her away from him aggressively. This of course sent her sprawling on her behind a good 20 feet across the marble floor, undoubtedly resulting in rug burn, bruising, and streak marks on her half-covered butt. She apparently was not a 'special access' card holder. Bane resumed his trajectory back across the courtyard, dismissing and ignoring the prostitute.
Myra brought a hand up to her mouth to muffle the burst of laughter. While she knew she should feel sorry for the prostitute, she also knew that the prostitute should be lucky that was all Bane did to her.
Later that evening, when Bane entered their master suite, Myra approached him from behind and attempted to replicate the gentle strokes on his forearm up to his bicep in a manner similar to the one she saw the prostitute try out. Bane's head snapped to the hand on his arm and then to Myra's face, going through the same procedure of identifying the hand at his arm as well as analyzing the owner of that hand and determining if they belonged to someone who was allowed access.
After making his conclusion, he reached up and curled a hand behind her neck to give it an affectionate squeeze before using his strength to draw her in closer against his body; 'his personal space' now becoming 'their personal space'. Myra responded willingly, planting her cheek against his military vest and curling her arms around his middle as he continued to rub the back of her neck soothingly with his other hand rubbing up and down her arm as if giving her a gentle massage. She smiled deeply into his chest, closing her eyes. Boss's bitch. Ugh. Fine.
Following the 'neck stabbing' ordeal, Bane thought it would be good to re-evaluate Myra in terms of bringing back some type of defense – or even offensive – lessons into her daily regime. While it was true they didn't get very far, only touching basic concepts that would provide her with enough tools to defend herself, her handling of the man who had attempted to kill Bane made him realize that he had overlooked a considerable amount of potential in Myra; perhaps bypassing lessons or techniques that could further aid her – and him – in the future.
He instructed Myra to meet him in the yoga studio that was adjacent to the workout room he used for body building. When she rounded the corner and saw him standing there expectantly, she knew what that look meant. She immediately turned around to exit. Bane rushed towards her and stopped her by grabbing her by the arm.
"Noooo….." she pouted.
"Yessss…." Bane teased, mocking her by matching her pout and tone.
"I don't want to learn anything," she said simply.
"But you utilized the skills that I had taught you so brilliantly just a few days prior; why would you deny yourself the chance at enhancing and adding to that skill set?" Bane said, amused.
Myra glowered at him.
"How would you know whether I utilized those skills so brilliantly? You decided that was the perfect time to take a nap, so you weren't even up to see me do anything," she half-fumed, half-teased.
"Well, one clear indicator is that I'm not dead. And neither are you," Bane reasoned, transitioning from his teasing tone to more of a serious one.
Myra continued to glower.
"I don't want to hurt people. Consider that instance a 'freebie'," she stated grumpily. She made a turn to try and exit again. Bane's hold on her arm stopped her.
"Come now. I'm not asking you to hurt or kill anyone," Bane reasoned.
Myra turned towards him sharply, glowering with furrowed brows, entirely unconvinced by his words. Why else would he be teaching me if he didn't want me to hurt or kill people?
"I thought it was SELF defense lessons. Not 'you' defense lessons," she snapped.
Bane smiled at her display.
"I'm simply giving you the opportunity to better protect yourself – myself - from further instances that could occur, in the very unlikely event that they do. Consider this very special training for my personal bodyguard," he joked, obviously finding the prospect of Myra as his personal bodyguard hilarious, though there was a hint of truth to it. She had saved him, there was no doubt about that albeit by a small margin. A very small margin. He wanted to make sure that margin wasn't so sliver-thin in the unlikely event she was forced to face another similar encounter.
Myra worked her lips into a fine line, further narrowing her brows.
"I want to make sure you don't hurt yourself the next time you are in that kind of situation," he confessed.
Myra gave him a look that indicated she very well better not be in a situation like that again. Ever.
Bane sighed, resting his hands on both of her shoulders and looking down at her.
"Let's compromise. If you do this for me, then I will do something for you. Name it," he said simply.
Myra's eyes lit up. Bane almost immediately regretted the offer, seeing her vibrant imagination radiating through her eyes straight at him. She worked her lips for what seemed like eternity before she settled on a request.
"After we're done here in Gotham, can we go on a trip? Somewhere secluded? Just the two of us?" Myra asked excitedly.
Myra's request affected him more than he was prepared for. He, of course, had no plans beyond Gotham. He had not divulged his plans to her regarding the sacrifice of his own life he intended to make when the bomb went off. He knew that would change their dynamic considerably if she was privy to that information, and he didn't want her to become sad, uncomfortable, or morose. She was the one vibrant and happy constant in his life that didn't bring him sadness, pain, or misery. She was a much-appreciated comfort to him as the countdown progressed and the world around him digressed into chaos, panic, and hell.
Myra saw a hint of sadness seep into Bane's eyes before it was immediately wiped away before she could fully glimpse it, making her wonder if she had even seen it at all.
"Deal," he said simply.
Myra was sitting on the floor cross-legged working on a floor in the master suite on a knitting craft project when Bane slid into the room. His arm crossed his body to rest a hand on his shoulder, with the other arm swinging in a circular motion at the ball joint as if in an attempt to ease some sort of muscle tension.
Myra lifted her head back at him curiously, dropping her project on the floor and hopping up to stand next to him.
"Can I help you with something? Are you hurt?" Myra asked with mild concern and curiosity.
Bane's eyes shifted to hers in slight irritation, clearly not wanting to explain himself. While he was able to get away with not having to explain himself with most everyone else in his life, he knew he couldn't get away with that approach with Myra. She was far too curious, persistent, and stubborn and didn't have the overhanging fear of death that came with getting on Bane's bad side from overstepping one's place. She blatantly crossed that line long ago, almost arrogantly so.
"No. My muscles are just tense. They get that way when…." He let his words slip into silence, letting Myra make her own conclusions about when his muscles became tensed and overworked. Killing. Crushing. Choking.
Myra brought her hands up to the shoulder that seemed to be irritating him, trying her own hand at easing his muscles.
"Do you want me to try and massage them for you? I'm no masseuse, but I'll give it a shot?" Myra asked tentatively, clearly wanting to be helpful and ease any discomfort Bane seemed to be experiencing.
Bane eyed her. He disliked people touching and massaging his muscles, particularly his shoulders and back because of his spinal injury. If they were too aggressive it could become extremely painful and could cause further injury. He looked her over from head to toe, realizing she wasn't that strong so that possibility was out of the question. He nodded reluctantly, maintaining his gaze on her to indicate he was waiting for her to direct him where to go.
Myra smiled, looking around quickly. At first, she figured the floor would be adequate, but figured Bane would probably be more comfortable lying prone on the bed. She grabbed his hand and led him into the bedroom and pointed to it.
"Just lie down there. Tell me if I'm hurting you," she said, stepping back and waiting for him to position himself.
Bane took off his vest armor, brace, and long-sleeve t-shirt before crawling onto the bed. He dropped his body onto the bed to lay prone, tilting his head to the side so that his cheek was comfortable rested against a pillow. He closed his eyes as he waited for Myra to do her work.
Myra eased herself onto the bed next to him, not quite sure if she should stand off to the side and massage him, or if she should kneel next to his body on the bed. She settled on scooting herself up and swinging a leg over him to straddle him, easing herself slowly to sit on his lower back just above his rump. She bent her knees, pushing them up against his side and tried to transfer some of her weight into her legs and knees.
"…does that hurt you? Is that too much weight on your back?" she asked.
"What weight?" he grunted with his eyes closed.
Myra gave him a deadpan look, apparently receiving her answer.
She scooted herself up a bit further to gain access to his upper back, which was where she perceived his discomfort was. She planted her fingers down onto his bare skin and simply started working on his muscles like she was rolling and teasing bread dough. She pushed some of her weight into her hands to try and have some level of impact in the tension and knots she was trying to release in his muscles.
"Does that hurt? Am I putting too much weight on you?" Myra asked, concerned after giving him several aggressive 'rolls' with the butt of her palm.
Bane responded by groaning from his mask. Myra's eyebrows drew together, ceasing her massaging immediately as she wasn't sure if his groaning was meant to indicate he was uncomfortable or pleased.
"Please don't stop," Bane said suddenly off to the side with his eyes closed, several seconds after she had ceased her activities. Myra grinned, resuming her task.
Myra's eyes roamed to the large protruding scar that ran from the base of his skull down his spine. The surgical stitching looked clumsy and scarred irregularly; she could only imagine the fumbling job that was performed internally. She frowned, doing her best to avoid that area knowing it was probably extremely sensitive.
While her original intention was simply to isolate the discomfort in his shoulder and upper arm on the side of his body he had physically shown to have discomfort, she worked his whole back and mirrored it to the other side. When she got to his lower back, she lifted and pushed herself back so that she was sitting on his thighs. Bane let out another groan when she eased out several various obvious knots in his lower back. She even gave his butt a firm massage, using extreme self-control and holding herself back from simply giving his butt a teasing spank. She kept moving herself down his body, getting his thighs, and then finally his calves. She had to ease herself off the bed and knelt by the bed while she did this, using her thumbs to dig into his muscles. She sat cross-legged on the floor as she massaged his feet and then his toes, tugging at each little digit before rubbing them all in unison.
It must have been at least an hour, if not two, since she started. She knew she was sweating mildly from the exertion, her hands feeling like they may have worked harder than she could ever recall. She stayed sitting on the floor, bringing her hands up to the edge of the bed and peered at him.
"All done," she said, in case it wasn't obvious based on the fact that she was no longer massaging him or touching him.
Bane's eyes eased open and he let out a huge exhale through his mask. He lay there prone for several minutes while he basked in the comfort of untensed muscles throughout his whole body. He eventually rolled onto his side and forced himself forward before swinging his legs off the bed to stand up. He stretched his body, letting out another groan; this groan didn't seem to be a groan that indicated he was feeling the results of sore muscles. This groan was the groan of relief and pleasure at feeling quite the opposite.
He turned his eyes towards Myra, who was still on the floor and was peaking at him almost bashfully waiting for his prognosis or critique of her work. He ambled over to her with slow methodical steps, relishing in the freshness and easing of his muscles, before he bent down quickly and scooped her up around the middle, pulling her up off of the floor and sandwiching her body between him and the bed.
Bane rubbed the side of his head affectionately against hers like a large lion rubbing his massive mane against his mate. Myra released a huge sigh from her chest from the apparent confirmation that he enjoyed her work, a lazy smile plastered on her lips as her head was forcibly jostled to the side from his aggressive affections. Bane's mask emitted soft sounds into her ear that were reminiscent of a large cat's rumbling purrs.
This wasn't the last time that Myra gave Bane a massage; she noticed a pattern, almost every couple of days, in which he would either strongly hint at muscle discomfort or he would simply lead her into the bedroom before launching himself face-forward onto the bed as a very clear indicator he wanted her to give him a massage.
Bane noticed an elevated capability in movement and a considerable ease in discomfort from the now routine massages Myra gave him, which of course helped him perform his duties and tasks more efficiently for the day. Myra felt like their relationship was slowly progressing into a symbiotic relationship, with the other individual providing things for the other that elevated their quality of life and living exponentially. Myra was happy and thankful for this extra ritual, since she felt that the things Bane did for her far exceeded the things she did for him; she wanted that balance to even out and this helped tip that scale just slightly closer to 'even Steven', though she doubted very much it would ever come to close. She felt like she was that little fish that swam at the belly of a massive shark, no danger to the shark itself, but basked in all that the shark could do for her while providing her protection and food and in return she made sure he was comfortable and didn't have gross parasites growing on his body.
Myra had noticed that several days of the month – specifically, when she was ovulating- that she found Bane just absolutely irresistible. Her preference in a partner had traditionally catered more towards the smaller and less threatening variety. However, things changed after Bane. She couldn't explain the desire for the masculine traits he seemed to exude paired with the aggressive personality he kept mostly tamed when he was around her.
She knew she was being hormonal, and that fact made it extremely difficult to concentrate on certain tasks. What were those certain tasks? Everything. Everything was difficult. Specifically, when Bane was within a certain proximity. Her body would immediately react when it sensed him walking down the hall towards the master suite entrance. Sometimes it was even when she didn't hear him and could simply smell the musky male smell of masculinity that dripped off of him.
When Bane entered the room, she could feel the hair at the back of her neck stick up and felt as if her lower body took control of her legs and wanted to start walking towards him in order to initiate the process of getting 'topped off' on Grade-A alpha sperm fuel to fulfil the pulsating biological need her body throbbed and ached for. It made her feel as if her sole purpose in life was to make babies. Lots of babies. Babies using Grade-A alpha sperm fuel from Bane, a perfect 'specimen' of a man her body seemed to think it couldn't get enough of. The thing was, though - she didn't want babies. She couldn't imagine anything more frightening in the world, particularly given the current climate and who the father would be. A mercenary? A terrorist? A warlord?
Myra also found these magnetic-like urges incredibly confusing considering the fact that she never had them this raw and powerful before. She had been in relationships before; she had never felt the need to randomly initiate an act of intercourse simply because there was some inner workings in her body softly whispering to her that there was an extremely capable, large, alpha male within proximity that would and could fulfill her body's needs and urges with no hesitation.
Sometimes she actively fought these urges, a few instances holding onto a chair, or even a desk, refusing to let herself be controlled by her body's primal inner workings. Myra was also not a fan of the concept that her sole purpose in life was to make babies. She felt as if her fulfillment in life would come from something else, something greater. She wanted to be a successful boss bitch businesswoman. Not just 'boss's bitch'.
However, the pull would be too much, especially if she allowed herself a quick glance in his direction as he strolled into the master suite. Like a strong magnet, if she released her hold on whatever anchor she was attached to, she could feel herself start gliding in his direction. At this point she knew she had no control of herself and had to relinquish to her own inner workings and let her body go do what it wanted to do as if it were as simple as driving up to a gas station and getting pumped full of gas and then driving off.
After engaging in their 'adult activity', Bane always had the impression he got whiplash, startled, confused, at these rapid 'attacks'. It was a literal occurrence of 'cumming and going', 'shooting and scooting', 'ejaculating and evacuating', 'jizzing and jetting' so quickly it caused his head to spin, her body up and off of him after he very clearly spent himself inside of her. She always looked reluctant, as if she would rather be doing something else. Bane found the stern look she gave him during these 'bouts', as if her furrowed intense gaze would urge him to expedite his release into her, to be hilarious.
Despite his lack of generally being around women on a regular basis, he knew a hormonal woman frustratingly driven by instinct with a singular intent on her mind when he saw one. He did what he could to accommodate her.
Myra had indicated one day to Bane in idle conversation her desire for a haircut, since her bangs had slowly started consuming her face; she could barely see through them and had to constantly push or clip them aside which wasn't her preference. Myra had assumed Bane wasn't paying attention to her, his face had been turned away and he had appeared to be focused or thinking about something else. It also wasn't an extremely important topic, so she didn't mind being idly ignored.
However, the next day Bane approached her with a motorcycle helmet in his hand. He was already wearing a helmet, and she at first wouldn't have recognized him if not for his size, the typical black leather coat with a waist-tie she saw him wearing frequently, and the saunter he tended to use when walking about as if he had difficulty maneuvering due to the bulk and mass of his muscles. Without explanation, he handed her the motorcycle helmet and walked towards the exit of the penthouse building leading out to the streets. Myra assumed she was meant to follow, so she did so while clutching the helmet between her hands. As they made their way outside, she saw a motorbike parked out front. Bane was strolling towards it casually and seated himself onto it comfortably before turning his helmeted head in her direction expectantly.
Myra's curiosity was piqued. She forced the helmet over her head and approached the motorbike hesitantly. Bane scooted himself up a minuscule of an inch along the leather seat as an indicator that she was supposed to mount herself up behind him. She did so reluctantly, and somewhat awkwardly, swinging her legs over it before settling her feet right behind his. She was acutely aware of the fact that the last time she was on a motorbike like this – perhaps even this exact same one – she was being kidnapped and taken away as a hostage from the Gotham Stock exchange. She scooted herself up against him before wrapping both of her arms around his waist, forcing herself to push these thoughts aside, deciding this scenario was much more comfortable and considerably less distressing. She let her heavy helmeted head plop forward against his back, angling it just slightly so she could direct a question up at him.
"Where are we going?" she shouted through the noise of Bane starting and revving up the motorcycle. Bane either didn't hear her question or ignored it, before squeezing the gas on the handle to propel them forward along the decimated streets of Gotham.
They maneuvered around and through some of the damage that had been caused by the explosions to the infrastructure of Gotham, which included the blowing up of the entrances to the sewers. This task was made significantly easier though considering their mobility on the motorbike.
Bane eventually stopped in front of a row of buildings, easing himself off and flipping the motorbike's kickstand. He started walking towards the entrance of a building without a word to Myra. Myra pulled herself off of the bike quickly after realizing they were at their destination, but not before looking up at the name of the small building that Bane was entering. It was an upscale hair salon for woman and appeared to be one of the few buildings that was still properly functioning and open. Bane did not seem like the typical clientele for such a place, so she could only imagine they must be here for her benefit. She rushed in after him.
When she entered, Bane motioned her towards the service counter without a word before he made his way over to the guest seating area. He eased himself down comfortably while reaching over to a table to grab a magazine, which he began sifting through idly. He never took his helmet off. Myra took her own helmet off, however, and placed it on the chair next to Bane before making her way to the service counter.
Myra felt awkward as she talked to the individual behind the counter. They apparently had an appointment for her – or rather, for a woman named 'Mildred'- but were given no indicator for what kind of appointment she wanted; whether it was a haircut, hair dye, full foil, or a blow-out. Myra pondered her options, unsure since she had never been to an upscale hair salon before, but inevitably decided on a full haircut with a foil; she felt motivated to try something new and adventurous.
Myra was shown and seated in the salon chair. Her hair stylist wrapped the styling bib over her body and buttoned it at the back of her neck, but she gave off a look that indicated she was very clearly confused and skeptical of the large man reading magazines through a dark motorcycle helmet lens in the guest seating lounge area. The look she was gave very clearly indicated she was hoping for some sort of explanation from Myra for his behavior.
"He, uh…he's shy around women," Myra blurted out stupidly.
That seemed to ease and pacify the stylist considerably. Myra saw Bane's head ease up from the magazine he was reading just slightly and angled it in her direction. While she couldn't see his eyes or face through the tinted lens, she definitely knew he was giving her a 'look' from her choice of explanation. She looked back at him and gave him a huge teasing grin.
Doing a full haircut and a foil was not a quick service, and by the time Myra was done, two and a half hours had passed. She practically hopped towards Bane in excitement at her hair needs being tended to. Bane was still seated patiently in the guest seating area reading idly through various popular magazines before he slowly looked up at her after realizing she was done. Without a word, he set his magazine back down on the table and rose himself up and sauntered over to the service desk. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, which he thumbed through quickly to count a generous amount with a tip and deposited it onto the counter. He then ambled back outside to the motorbike without ever saying a word.
Myra grabbed her own helmet, which she reluctantly put back on due to the beautiful work that the stylist just performed, before practically skipping after Bane. When she settled herself onto the motorcycle behind him, the hold she had around his middle was just a little bit tighter than it had been before.
As the cold front slowly settled over Gotham, the penthouse building temperature almost plummeted overnight. Myra was freezing. She was wrapped up in a blanket, nestled on a lounge chair near the entrance to the master suite when she saw Bane enter. He seemed unphased by the cold; in fact, all he was wearing was a long-sleeve dark brown thermal sweater. Myra eyed him, jealous of the extraordinary heat his body naturally generated. She quickly got up from her seat, stalking him after he gave her a simple nod for a greeting as he made his way to the kitchen.
Bane gave her a suspicious glare when he saw her round on him and then follow him, dropping the blanket she had wrapped around her shoulders along the way. He kept his head tilted so that he could peer at her from over his shoulder as he continued to amble to the kitchen. His eyes followed her as she sped up her pace and got in front of him, blocking his path. She grabbed the hem of his long-sleeve t-shirt at the waist suddenly, tugging it out away from his body, crouching her body down, and then quickly diving and burying her upper body up inside of it to sandwich herself up against his chest and the shirt material. Bane's eyes grew large at the odd display, but the crinkling around his eyes indicated he certainly appreciated the humor of it.
"What are you doing?" he inquired.
"Keeping warm," she said, slightly muffled from under the t-shirt fort, planting her cheek against his warm chest. From an outside observer, she probably looked like an amorphous blob or even an alien about to erupt from under Bane's chest under the fabric.
"Hmm. Well, I'm not sure how much I appreciate you stretching out my apparel…." Bane mused with slight irritation as he tried maneuvering her body in a way where he could continue walking, though he knew the attempt would be futile.
Myra's eyes flared sassily, though he of course couldn't see it.
"Oh? Well I'm not sure how much I appreciate you stretching out my-" she stopped abruptly, catching herself before finishing the crude joke and insinuation, amazed that the crass joke had even popped up in her head let alone fly out of her lips before she had a chance to properly filter herself.
Bane's ears perked up immediately, obviously intrigued.
"What was that? I don't believe I heard you properly," Bane mused with mild excitement.
Myra remained silent for several moments, adjusting her face so that her other cheek had a chance at capturing and absorbing warmth from his chest.
"Nothing," she muffled out.
"It didn't sound like nothing. It sounded as if you were voicing a complaint about something of yours that I appear to be carelessly stretching out," he sniped.
Bane felt Myra's fingers rub and pinch against his skin in a show of either mild nervousness or embarrassment. He then felt her start to writhe under his shirt as she made an attempt at retreating and escaping out from under his t-shirt to avoid having to finish her sentence. Bane stopped her before she had a chance to fully re-emerge from under his shirt.
"Oh no you don't. I would certainly appreciate being made aware of any grievances you appear to have against me, particularly if it concerns with 'stretching something out," Bane goaded, pulling his shirt down with his fists and trapping her.
Myra let out a huge sigh against his chest but remained silent after that – very clearly refusing to explain what it was she meant to say.
Bane waited, providing her ample opportunity to respond, before he moved his hands to her sides suddenly. Without warning, he began tickling her.
Myra started screaming, disoriented and unable to escape due to being entrapped under his shirt and the hands at her side. She tried pushing herself off and away from him, which of course only stretched his t-shirt out just slightly more before bouncing her back against his chest.
"STOP. STOP. FINE. I'LL TELL YOU IF YOU STOP. OAF!" she finally got out through uncomfortable laughter.
Bane eased his tickling, though he kept his hands on her waist as if to show her he was fully prepared to re-initiate his assault at the drop of a pin if she didn't comply. He could almost feel her working her mouth as she worked out the phrasing of what it was she was about to say.
"Go on. I don't have all day," Bane coaxed, seemingly enjoying her somewhat prudish and embarrassed mannerisms.
Myra let out another irritated sigh. Her irritation helped drive her words out, beyond caring about being embarrassed or crass at this point.
"You stretch my….you stretch out my….MY VAGINA. There. HAPPY?!" she huffed out into his chest.
Bane most certainly found her statement incredibly delightful despite the implications of it as amusement took over his features. He lifted one hand that had been settled at her waist up to settle behind the lump where he knew her head.
"Not yet, I fear," he teased in a dark raspy seductive voice before reaching down and snatching her up off of the ground, keeping her encapsulated under his shirt as he marched to the bedroom.
When he made it to the edge of their bed, he reached down and pulled his shirt off which instantly freed Myra from within its confines. She didn't flee, however, but instead wrapped her arms around his middle, rested her chin on his chest and tilted her head back to stare up at him adoringly with a hint of mischief gleaming in her eyes. Bane maneuvered his head so he could gaze down at her and reciprocated mischief in his own eyes.
Bane reached forward behind her back, grabbing her shirt hem and yanking her shirt off with one clean stroke. Myra lifted her arms up in the air to aid him in the process. They then both eyed each other and watched as they removed the rest of their own clothing in unison, Bane taking just slightly longer than Myra did because of the brace he wore around his middle, which he tended to put back on after the rest of his clothes were off. When he tightened the last buckle on his brace after re-instating it, he lifted his head to Myra and saw an expectant and almost impatient look in her eye as she waited for him to finish adjusting. He slowed his hand movement on the last stretch, teasing her as he tightened the buckle one last time, knowing how aggravated and impatient she would be over the simple methodical act.
Bane suddenly reached forward and snatched her by the waist, hoisting her up just briefly as he rolled onto his back on the bed, bringing her along with him and over him. Myra's eyes grew large at the unfamiliarity of the act, which essentially positioned her over him in a straddle at the waist. She brought her arms out to fumble against his chest as she steadied and leveraged herself up in a sitting position on top of him. After she comfortably settled, she eyed him as he reclined fully on his back and simply stared at her with deep crinkle lines blossoming at the corner of his eyes at her awkward and slightly clumsy display. Myra gave him a stink eye.
She roamed her hands over his chest and abs before adjusting her rump over his crotch, giving her bottom a soft pleasant and suggestive grind into his lap. Bane just stared at her, though she knew she was eliciting a response from him by the very solid-feeling length of him pulsating between her legs. She smiled, knowing that pulsating feel was very obviously to the beat of his own heart as it worked to pump blood into that particular organ that was pressed up against her opening. She could feel it growing larger and larger with each strong 'thump, thump, thump' of his heart.
Myra waited patiently, her eyes roaming over his exposed chest and then up to his face, finding herself suddenly in a very new situation; control. She had absolute control over this particular sexual encounter with Bane, watching him as he lay there passively with one arm bent up behind his head as he used it like a pillow, waiting for her to make a move. To decide what to do, for how fast, for how long. She suddenly felt a tingling climbing her spine; an 'elevated' feeling.
She immediately went to work, elevating her lower body up by partially kneeling up and off of him. She then took hold of his sizable erection tightly between her hand, which produced a startled 'hmph' from Bane through his mask at the intensity and aggression of it. She squeezed her hand gently, which produced another 'hmph' from him, before she positioned his tip to her entrance. She then let the weight of her body and gravity do the rest of the work as she let herself drop and slam down over him, encapsulating him and very clearly sheathing him with one swift motion like she was sheathing a large powerful sword deep inside of her. She ignored the shear tension, friction, and stretch that always accompanied the act of him penetrating her. She instead directed all of her attention and focus entirely on him as she pushed the pain to the back of her mind.
Bane's eyes were large from the sensation and the slight manhandling she seemed to be carelessly deploying on him, but to say he didn't enjoy it would be a lie. Her hips did a slight grind once she had settled over and around him as if to ensure that he was in as far as he physically could go. Bane let out a hefty sigh through his mask from the torque she was deploying, which Myra could almost swear was a constrained moan, as his eyes suddenly closed with his brows furrowed into the hardware that ran down the middle of his forehead and over the bridge of his nose. She watched as his hands grabbed onto the sheets on either side of him like he was holding on for dear life. He eventually eased his eyes back open to stare at her, though his brows continued to be furrowed. She smirked at the new and unusual display exhibited by Bane.
Myra then began the process of letting her eyes roam from his face down to his bare chest and his stomach. He was thick. His body was thick. His neck was thick. He had abs, but they weren't highly defined due to an extra layer of fat that obscured them; almost as if he were keeping a reserve of energy and drew upon it when he needed it, which was frequent. She loved that little pouch over his abdomen, and the way his skin rolled there when he sat or bent over, instead of being taught and stretched out. She also assumed that extra layer provided him considerable protection when getting hammered in the gut. It certainly felt pleasant to the touch as her hands rested on it, providing her leverage as she dug her fingers and grasped into the soft skin that settled there as she began rocking her hips over him.
As she began riding him, she suddenly felt something rise in her chest. It happened after a quick spark of an idea lit into her brain after she contemplated her position on top of Bane. It was silly really, and she knew it, but she couldn't help but let the feeling consume her and make her feel emboldened and elevated. It was simply concerned with the fact that she felt as if she were in complete control of the situation. Of Bane. Bane, who, she reflected, had complete control of Gotham City. That knowledge, in her deliriously elevated mindset, gave her an inexplicable 'high'. It powered her movements. It made her bolder, energized, and passionate. It made her feel as if her position on the metaphorical food change was as high as it could get; something that, Myra noted, was a rare foreign feeling for her. She was generally shy, awkward, unassuming, non-threatening and not anywhere near as ambitious as someone like Bane may be who usually inhabited that elevated rank on the very tippy top. But here she was, 'on the tippy top'; and not just as it was concerned with a pecking order; she was right on top of him in a very physical sense, grinding down onto him with renewed vigor. Arguably the most powerful man in Gotham was below her between her legs, looking at her like an idol, appreciating her, giving her free reign of him and his body. Her lips slowly parted at this realization, her eyes glazing over as she continued her focus on him as she worked her body over him.
When Bane brought a hand up to grab hold of her breast, she promptly slapped it away. She furrowed her brows at him for daring to move or possibly even cause impedance to her actions without her permission. Bane's eyebrows shot up his forehead in a mixture of shock and amusement at her boldness, bringing his hand back down and complying quietly and obediently, letting her have her fun with a very knowing look in his eye indicating he had an inkling of the notion her boldness was fueled from.
After rocking her body over him for a considerable amount of time, she suddenly reached out and grabbed hold of his hand. She used her hands to pry his palm and fingers open as she directed his index finger between her legs, never ceasing the rocking motion of her body over his.
"Rub…" Rock. "Me…" Rock. "NOW" Myra ordered out in a huff between the gradually more aggressive rocking of her body.
Bane did what she asked without question, keeping one hand behind his head he used as a pillow as well as a means to elevate his head so he could gaze up at her while he worked his thumb and index finger against her clit as she continued to grind, rock, and push her body onto his.
In just mere seconds after Bane's masterful handywork, Myra very clearly started coming. Her jaw dropped and she shut her eyes as she rode it out, though she did find it considerably difficult to find motivation and strength to keep rocking over him as her senses were overcome and her legs experienced extreme tingling and numbness from the sheer pleasure of it. She started to slow down as she was overwhelmed with fatigue and the explosion of senses.
This was Bane's queue, as he bent forward at the waist suddenly as Myra was very clearly coming down from her high. He pushed her to the edge of the bed, shoving her legs to the ground as he bent her forward at the waist so her chest was flush against the bed. He hurried off the bed and moved behind her, grabbing her by the hips and without hesitation, he rammed himself forward to expertly re-entered her with one precise motion.
Myra threw her hands out against the sheets as she was pushed forward against the bed, her brows furrowing as she turned to try and look over her shoulder at him at the very clear reversal of power that happened when she was obviously in her most vulnerable state.
"NOOO….." she whined, feebly struggling with her newfound position as Bane very clearly made a show of reclaiming his authority and dominance. Her struggles were feeble, however; he did feel very good, regardless of his demonstration. In reality, Bane could have cared less about any perceived power shift; she had started to slow down, and he was on the verge of coming and felt that this was the most direct and desirable path towards success.
Bane ignored her whining as he pumped into her from behind, holding onto her hips with a moderate amount of strength to keep her still and to prevent her from squirming and struggling in her meager attempts at crawling forward. He didn't need to hold on for very long, however, as Myra felt an internal burst as he released himself inside of her. She settled down, lowering her head down to rest on the bed as she waited patiently for him to fully spend himself inside of her, which was usually when the throbbing of his cock ebbed against her internal flesh wall as it worked in overtime to fill her up with every last available drop.
After several minutes when Bane finally reclaimed his breath, he removed himself from inside of her. Myra straightened herself up when she felt his body leave hers. She turned to beeline towards the bathroom, but felt a hand grab her by the arm and push her back onto the bed. Myra bounced onto the bedding before turning angrily at Bane.
"I need to go to the bathroom," she said, affronted that she even needed to inform him of this.
"No," Bane said simply, as he eased himself into the bed and laid down, resting his head back against a pillow.
When Myra moved to get off the bed again, Bane snatched his hand out and grabbed her by the arm and tugged her forcefully back on the bed. This time he pulled her until she was dragged flush up against him. He wrapped his arm around her so she couldn't easily get up, pulling a blanket up to half cover her. Myra glared at him, knowing he was making a teasing and almost mocking show of making sure 'she' knew who was in charge after her earlier display, knowing it would rile her up.
"I'm going to pee in the bed," she said threateningly, making an attempt to topple his authority but also very clearly needing to go to the bathroom.
Bane simply closed his eyes in a clear indication that he was on the verge of falling asleep.
"Then do it," he said, daring her.
Myra worked her lips together, silently working the pro's and con's inside of her head. Bane must have sensed that she was strongly considering it, so he eased one eye open to glare at her.
"I warn you; if you do, don't anticipate being relocated from your spot. You'll have to lie in it," he warned, before closing his eye again. Myra's eyes practically bulged, fuming and annoyed.
After glaring at him for several solid minutes, the rhythmic sound of his breathing through his mask the only noise in the room, Myra eventually settled down. She eased herself fully down, resting up against his chest and closed her eyes with a soft sigh escaping her lips.
She was startled out of her daze abruptly, however, when she felt Bane's hand gently jostle her on the shoulder.
"…go use the loo," he breathed out.
Myra lifted her head and turned to look at him sharply wondering why the hell she couldn't have just gone minutes earlier but saw that his eyes were very clearly closed, and she would have mistaken him for even being asleep. She eased herself away from him, however, and beelined to the bathroom to do her business. After she was done, she made her way back to nestle up against his body.
She fidgeted against his body for several moments, her fingers rubbing idly against the exposed skin on his chest. After a long period of silence, Myra suddenly spoke out into the darkness in a hushed voice.
"Do you love me?" she asked quietly, knowing she was asking the question to a half-asleep Bane who very clearly had his eyes closed and his head half turned away to rest comfortably on the pillow.
"Yes," he breathed out groggily without much thought, half-asleep with his eyes closed and his breathing maintaining its slow methodical rhythm.
Myra grinned, however. A grin that spread from ear to ear. She moved herself up closer against him, burying her face into his chest to mute the words that were about to come out of her mouth in a show of bashfulness.
"I love you too," she mumbled, before she promptly fell asleep.
The next morning when Bane eased himself up from bed, he looked over and saw Myra face-planted into several pillows, her hair strewn everywhere. He reached out and rested a hand between her shoulder blades and rubbed it affectionately, which resulted in a loud groan to be heard from the deep recesses of the pillows.
"Did you have fun last night? Stretching things out?" Bane teased.
Myra rotated her head just slightly so that she could peak at him with one eye.
"Yes," she wheezed out, looking him over and acknowledging his tease.
"The sex was okay too, I guess," she grinned, snickering loudly before burying her face back into the pillows.
Bane's eyebrows shot up his forehead. After pausing for several moments to take in her vague insult, he moved his body closer to her and planted himself directly on top of her. This resulted in the air from Myra's lungs being expelled through her mouth in a loud painful huff, as well as her body being fully dug into the mattress like a tick.
"What's that you said?" Bane asked, moving his head near her ear as he positioned his bare chest directly over her back. He kept one of his knees and legs off to her side to moderate the amount of weight he was actually forcing onto her, not wanting to kill her, of course. One of his other legs wrapped over and around hers to keep them from thrashing about.
Myra responded by going into a coughing fit.
"I can't breathe!" she wheezed out, her arms struggling to push herself out from under him.
Bane responded by bringing his mask closer to her ear.
"Say again?" Bane teased.
"Okay!" Myra wheezed out, knowing what Bane wanted her to admit.
"'Okay'? Okay what?" Bane inquired, emphasizing his question with a slight shift of his body over the top of hers.
"Sex with you is more than 'okay'," Myra coughed out.
Bane still wasn't satisfied. He eased more weight onto her.
"Is it? That sounds humdrum," Bane said, with slight sadness lacing his tone.
Myra continued to struggle, and it was obvious at this point that she was legitimately having difficulty breathing properly. Bane took pity on her by leaning his body and legs away from her, grabbed her arm, and flipped her over onto her back to face him. Her face was beat red, but she still had humor spread across it and her eyes were closed from laughing.
She let out a low giggle erupt from her lips as she opened her eyes and gazed up at him as he leaned his body over hers. She brought her hands up to rest on either side of his head as she stroked his cheeks and the hardware that surrounded it gently.
"Oh, it's definitely humdrum," Myra teased with a massive smile, loving the sound of that uncommon word coming through his lips and his mask.
Bane gazed down at her, realizing the teasing from Myra was not going to end soon. He bent his elbow at his side, moving to support his weight on that arm as he brought his other arm to sweep across her forehead and across her cheeks in a soft caress with his calloused hand.
"I believe your recollection may be marred. Allow me to reinvigorate your memory," he crooned out playfully, already easing his body and weight between her legs suggestively.
A deep grin spread across Myra's lips as she continued to stroke the side of his face, relaxing and easing her legs further apart invitingly for him.
He definitely reinvigorated her memory.
Bane was walking through the main lobby level through the throng of men and prostitutes with Barsad trailing behind him when he suddenly stopped in his tracks. His attention got diverted to Myra, who was huddled around a group of 'women of the night'. He observed as they apparently were coercing her into something before they all in unison began walking off to the side towards an isolated block of meeting rooms. Bane immediately went after her.
"What are you doing?" he asked her, reaching out and pushing between two very startled prostitutes to gain access to Myra. He grabbed Myra by the shoulder to stop her from proceeding forward.
Myra turned around at him, startled at his presence.
"What?" she asked, confused.
Bane's eyebrows furrowed at having to ask the same question twice.
"What are you doing," he asked with slightly more menace than he had intended.
Myra furrowed her brows at him, shrugging his hand off of her shoulder.
"They offered to do my nails and style my hair. I don't have anything better to do so I accepted their offer," Myra said, sticking her chin up slightly as she said this to emphasize her confidence in the manner. This made Bane realize that she was, in fact, not confident about her choices and that she perhaps just now realized she was going into a private room with prostitutes that may or may not have ill intent on their minds.
Bane's eyes did a sweep over the prostitutes involved. He recognized the one prostitute he had bodily shoved to the floor for making advances towards him. He eyed her up and down. Her expression was complete shock and perhaps a hint of fear and embarrassment, but Bane could detect no sense of malice in her appearance despite the aggression he had shown towards her previously. She even was holding a bottle of nail polish in her hand expectantly. Bane's eyes settled back onto Myra's, who was looking up at him in anticipation as if she knew he was weighing in on whether he was going to let her proceed with the activity or not. She looked like she was on the verge of begging him, knowing he perhaps was going to give a resounding 'no' and remove her from the situation.
Myra was surprised when Bane turned towards Barsad, giving him a subtle nod with his head. Barsad's face and body immediately fell, the bored expression on his face transitioning into a slight wave of frustration before it was immediately erased before Bane could detect it. He moved forward and stood next to Myra, who looked shocked at the notion of Barsad as a chaperone while she got her nails and hair done. She immediately smirked, elbowing Barsad teasingly as Bane turned around without another word and ambled the other way across the courtyard of the main lobby level.
The prostitutes looked Barsad over before they proceeded to the vacant room they had proposed would be an appropriate location to do nails and hair for Myra. Barsad flanked them, dragging his feet on the floor.
Roughly an hour later, Myra ambled up to the master suite bedroom and was pleased to see Bane in the kitchen, preparing food. She ambled up to him and spread her hands out to show him her nails as well as to highlight her styled hairdo.
Bane turned to look at her, his eyes immediately fixating on the nails she was presenting him before his eyes moved up to her hair. He stared while Myra continued to shift her body weight from one leg to the other in excitement.
"Look! They did my hair!" she said, clearly excited.
Bane set his knife down and turned bodily towards her slowly, bringing his hands up to cup the side of her cheeks with both of his hands.
"They certainly did," he said, with what Myra could detect was a subtle tone of admiration.
Before she knew it, however, Bane's hands were sweeping and shuffling her hair into a massive rat's nest on her head as if physically erasing any remnants of the abomination on her head.
"Wha-WHA-WHAT. STOP. WHAT ARE YOU DOING," she yelled, frustrated, bringing her hands up to try and stop him from destroying the work done to her, her eyes closed at the intensity of Bane's disheveling of her hair and head.
"I'm doing you a favor," he said seriously, removing his hands after he was done. He eyed her again, diverting his attention back to his food preparation duties.
Myra's eyes bore daggers into him as she watched him cutting food.
Bane turned towards her, picking up his cutting knife and using the tip of it to point towards her hair.
"I'm going to have a serious discussion with Barsad about him standing by and allowing this…." Bane used the tip of his knife to make a sweeping motion towards her head. "…..to happen without intercepting," Bane continued.
When Bane realized she wasn't moving from her spot and was simply glaring at him, he brandished the knife he was holding at her.
"You had better run along before I decide to remedy those nails of yours too," he said seriously.
Myra reluctantly turned around, not caring to determine the extent of the seriousness of his tease or the manner in which he would 'remedy those nails'. Was he threatening to chop my fingers off…?
Myra was making her way through the lower lobby of the penthouse, hoping to reconnect with the prostitutes that had styled her hair earlier. She was hoping they could 'fix it'. The lobby level seemed particularly dense all of the sudden, and she couldn't immediately locate them. She had to push herself through the throng of mercenaries mixed with over-painted faces when all of the sudden she felt a hand grab her. She sighed, assuming it was going to be one of Bane's men that perhaps assumed she was a prostitute. What she saw staring back at her was a prostitute instead. The prostitute pushed a piece of paper into her hand, and then left abruptly.
Myra was startled and stared after the prostitute before looking down at the piece of paper. She opened it up hesitantly. It read:
"You can help stop the bomb. Save millions of lives. 555-555-1234."
Myra stared down at it for a solid minute before slowly pocketing it.
This is a reminder to EVERYONE: The next chapter is going to be….ANGSTY. There will be WARNINGS. It will be just…absolute ANGST. This story can't be all-highs all the time, right? RIGHT. Also. REVIEW.