I4.6
Chapter 6: The Prince
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Adult themes. DO NOT read if you are underage or dislike controversial things.
Author's Note: If you haven't read The Prince by Machiavelli, then I highly recommend it. Or at least the cliff notes version of it. It's kinda like a playbook of power moves for the rich and famous.
Smooth mahogany felt cool under Richard's fingertips. The AC in this small bookstore's cafe is a blessing in this summer heat. He is surrounded by different types of literature and sitting across from the prettiest bookworm that he has ever seen. Rachel has her head bowed over the cafe's menu as she tries to decide what she wants, but he knew that she would go with her usual order because she is a picky eater. This has become a ritual of sorts. He would pick her up from the library, say hello to the kids and they would spend their evening at this same mahogany table in the dark, quiet, secluded part of this cafe. The space is so small that Rachel has to wedge her legs between Richard's in order to sit comfortably.
He particularly likes this location for the intimacy it provides. It is far enough away from other tables for them to converse comfortably about work, but strategically placed so that he can keep his eyes on the rest of the cafe. Clear viewing angles to the double doors at the entrance and windows. The restroom is around the corner, which is a little iffy, but people would have to walk across his line of vision to get there anyway. Rachel's back is to the room, which could be dangerous, but he knew he won't let anything happen to her. Besides, this means that her attention is only focused on him. She shouldn't concern herself with other people when she is in his presence. He wants her eyes and ears to be on him at all times. He has had to share the normally secluded young woman with too many people in recent days and now that he would be away from her all weekend, he is even more on edge.
"What can I get ya?" asks the waitress who makes Rachel jump a little.
"I'll…"
"She'll have the chai tea and blueberry scone. I'll take a black coffee and the walnut bread. Both pastries warmed," comes Richard's calm, commanding voice while his eyes are still looking at his companion. It is a voice that is used to giving orders and having them followed by those around him. If he had been paying attention, he would have noticed the waitress' frown before she asks, "Are you sure that's what you want, Rachel?"
That made Richard's head snap to attention. Since when is she on first name basis with the help? He couldn't quite process this. Why does this woman feel so comfortable using her first name? How did she learn her first name? Why isn't Rachel correcting her? And how dare this nobody have the audacity to think that he didn't know her order? He watches in mild shock at his beloved nods her head, seemingly unbothered by this interaction, "That's fine. Thank you."
"...Well, that was rude," Richard says as his eyes track the help as she walks away. There is a frown on his lips.
"How so?" Rachel asks as she digs in her bag for something. The muscles of one bare shoulder taunting him as it smoothly ripples beneath the surface of her skin. It was pale and slender. Richard feels his hands twitch and tighten at the memory of holding her by those very same shoulders last night, before dinner. They are soft and fit nicely into the palm of his hands. He wonders what it would be like to dig his thumbs into the tender flesh and watch twin bruises bloom under the pressure. How much force would she allow him to use before she tries to pull away? Would she hiss at him like a cat? Try to hit him for hurting her? He doubt she would use her demonic powers on him for that little transgression. She wouldn't do that to him.
"The way she used your name. It's too familiar. You shouldn't let people get that comfortable with you," is his reply. She should not be accessible to everyone...to anyone, but him. Richard didn't like the thought of her building relationships beyond those that are absolutely necessary. Their co-workers are necessary. They have to work together as a team to accomplish goals. They live together in the same tower. It makes sense for all of them to become closer to one another. That was all good and well as long as they knew their boundaries with one another. He found Rachel's attachment to Melvin endearing. He knew that there was a little part of herself that she saw in that young girl. But the fact that this nameless, faceless, insignificant waitress in an unnamed cafe has the nerve to demonstrate some sort of bond with his Rachel is unacceptable.
He frowns again as he hears Rachel's little laugh. "It's not that serious, Dick. She knows me. I've come here a few times with Melvin and others from the library."
Ahh, there are others? How many new revelations is he supposed to stomach today? Richard tries to ask nonchalantly, "Is Bryce one of the 'others' you've came here with?"
She nods her head 'yes' as she finally pulls an old, tattered copy of Machiavelli's, The Prince, from her bag and slams it down on the table in triumph. Richard's head is spinning. His heart is slamming against his chest in a way that is almost painful. She's been having play dates with random men from the library. Who else has she sat with at this very table? Did she also place her smooth legs between theirs under the table? Did they feel her little foot kick and move as she gets excited about a topic? How many men has she cycled through while he wasn't paying attention? The thought of some conniving creature reaching over this table and running his greasy, sweat soaked hand on Rachel's arm or holding her hand triggers Richard's fight response. He hadn't thought that his girl would allow such a thing, but this is the second time she has surprised him in such a way today.
"But he's not important right now! I wanna talk to you about this," she says as she holds up The Prince with a happy look of anticipation on her face. "When we were watching the movie together last night, I couldn't help but make connections to this book! Thanos' logic aligns to many of the attributes Machiavelli wrote about. I wanted to talk about them with you before you leave for the weekend."
Her expression and words were enough to take some of the enraged wind out of his sails. That's right. She spent the evening beside him. Not Beastboy, not Cyborg, not Bryce. Him. She wants to talk to him about the things that make her happy. Share her thoughts with him. Her fears, desires, ambitions, follies and insecurities are all his to keep. She doesn't need anyone else, because she has him. So why waste all this time and energy with other people? There is nothing they can provide her with. Not like he could. Like he will.
Richard's raging emotions are even more appeased when Rachel kicks off her sandals and props her feet on the cushion of his booth's seat, right between his thighs. Dangerously close to his crotch. Pretty toes painted a glittery dark blue color. Sometimes, he has to marvel at how comfortable she is with him. She has strayed into his danger zones before, without realizing it. Had he been a lesser man, he would have already taken advantage of her defenselessness. If he were a lesser man, she would already have rug burns on her knees and palms of her hands. If he were a weaker man, she would have bruises on her hips and the imprint of his teeth between those delicate shoulder blades. He'd put her to bed with rope burns marking her precious skin, tears in her eyes and his name on her lips.
Fortunately for her, he is a man with morals...that are sometimes questionable. Self control...that is dangerously shakable when her toes curl around the cushion of his seat. He's a reasonable man...whose logic becomes muddle when he sees her soft fingers firmly grasp the slippery surface of her glass of water and slides to the base of it. His cocks twitches uncomfortably as he watches her rub the moisture from the glass between her fingers. Flexing her toes as she enjoys the coolness and the sensation of something wet on a warm summer's evening.
She places her water out of the way so that she can lay the book out between the two of them. This book has clearly seen better days, but it is filled with her notes scrawled all along the margins. She has read it many times. In an effort to distract himself because they are still, very much, in a public space, Richard moves to take his kindle out of one of his larger pant's pocket. The movement causes his thigh to brush against the side of her foot. The muscles contract and clench at the contact and he is silently grateful for the material that separates them. Before Richard can think better of it, his hand wraps around one of her ankles as his other hand struggles to pull the device from his pocket. He's trying to suppress a groan and his raging hormones while the oblivious woman across from him is scourging the pages of text for the quote that she wants.
"There it is! What do you think about 'the ends justify the means'?" asks Rachel as she points enthusiastically at something scribbled in her tattered book. Such a pretty girl; such horrible handwriting.
There is a sharp exhale of air as her companion attempts to regain some control of his body, thoughts and emotions. His love wants to discuss philosophy while he wants to do dirty things to her under the table. "Machiavelli never actually uses that term directly in The Prince."
"I know, but what do you think it means? I wanna make sure we're working with the same definition."
"I think it means what most scholars say it does. The 'ends' is the goal and the 'means' is the method. Basically, it's another way of saying 'by whatever means necessary' or doing what one must to accomplish the goal," Richard replies with a sigh. His feelings toward Rachel have been on a roller coaster ride over the last several days. Labels that he once thought were clear and defined are quickly changing meaning. He should really use this weekend away to rest, recoup and reevaluate his priorities. But first, he needs to find his digital copy of The Prince on his kindle oasis. "Is there a problem, Rachel?"
They both knew he was teasing her because of her love of paper. She squirrels away post-it notes like they're chestnuts. "You know I hate ebooks. They don't have the same..feel as a real book. The crisp feel of paper between the fingertips. Ugh! Nothing smells as good as a 60 plus year old novel!"
Your freshly showered, naked body between my sheets would feel best beneath my fingers. The scent of your arousal in the air is better than any book. But those aren't words he can say out loud or thoughts that he should be having. It's not uncommon to have one or two stray "what if" thoughts about your close friend, but he has been entertaining full on fantasies. Instead he responds with a somewhat forced smile, "While that might be true, I can fit hundreds of books in one little convenient device. Not everyone can open a portal and pluck out a text from thin air."
"I guess. Digital is still inferior to paper!" she says as she crosses her arms in a haughty manner as a foot playfully kicks him under the table.
"I'm assuming you're trying to apply the 'ends justify the means' logic to Thanos?"
"Yes! His intentions are a good. He's trying to save a universe that can't sustain itself anymore. His method, however, is deplorable," is her excited response. Violet eyes are sparkling with life and intellect. He loves this face and the small ways it changes with her excitement. "The way he went about it is classic Machiavellian. Do you think he did the right thing?"
Before Richard has a chance to respond, the waitress is back with their order. Food and beverages are place before them. Rachel says a soft "thank you" and Richard just nods. The other woman side eyes him one more time before she walks away, but he doesn't really care.
"Did he do the right thing?" He strokes the stubble on his chin as he thinks about his reply. "As Robin, the leader of the Titians, I would say that he did not do the right thing. As a leader, it is his responsibility to find a solution that wouldn't cause unnecessary loss of life. Especially, since it was so randomized. Just making people disappear won't solve all of the world's problems. The majority of Machiavellian methods wouldn't pass the super hero check. He was more concerned with results than what it took to get there," is Richard's thoughtful response.
"And as a man?" she quietly questions as she nibbles on the edge of her pastry.
Richard continues to think deeply. How much truth should he be willing to share with her? She might be a woman of demonic origins, but her morals are very high. They have to be. It is one of the ways that she keeps her darker self in check. His morals are also how he keeps himself in check. That is something these two birds have in common. Self-control and restraint. But on this warm summer's evening, Richard deems it acceptable to loosen a button or two on those leashes. He laces his long fingers together and props up his chin on the table as he closes his thighs around her feet that are still resting on the cushion. His crotch gently making contact with her toes.
"As a man...as a man, I understand why he did what he did. Thanos saw a problem and moved to deal with it. Most people won't agree with him because the problem was slow growing. Like climate change. If the issue doesn't affect me and mine right now then fuck it. I'll worry about it another day. He realized that there wouldn't be other days and something needed to be done now so that the rest can survive. The moves were brutal and efficient. Which are very much in line with what is written in The Prince. There's a part of me that approves. He accomplished his goal in record time. Besides, life and time moves on. Even after the Avengers lost the war, they all moved forward and built from the broken pieces left behind," is Richard's reply. He is tracking her facial expressions with his sharp eyes. He generally gives her the pre-scripted, hero responses when she asks darker questions like this, but tonight, the air felt different.
She slightly shakes her head with a light frown, "While I agree that his intentions are genuine, his methods are over the top and unnecessary on every level. I'm sure there are other ways to control population growth without wiping out half of it. Theoretically, the half that are left behind can just re-populate at a high rate to make up for the numbers that were loss. Humans are dangerously fertile. There are billions of us on this globe!"
There is a sharp laugh from Richard that made her squint at him in annoyance. He says with some glee in his voice, "Are you proposing that he should have put the universe on birth control? Hmmmm?"
"Shut up, Dick! I'm being serious. He sacrificed everything! Even his own loved ones to accomplish that goal. And there's no guarantee that the result he worked so hard for will even be sustainable in the far future. Would you sacrifice your near and dear ones to accomplish a goal that might not even be worth it?!" is her impassioned response. She's vibrating with so much emotion that she's practically glowing in his eyes. In moments like these, he wants to kiss her lips until they're bruised and bitten bloody. Feel her body shake in his arms as she beats his chest. Fist her short violet hair and jerk her head back so that she can look him in the eyes as she tries to argue. My near and dear.
"You look like you could bite my head off, Rachel. Relax ba-…," baby. The term of endearment almost slips out, but he caught it. He wasn't sure where that urge came from, but he'd analyze that later. He seems to be putting a lot of things off for later. "I don't plan on following in Thanos' footsteps. I could never willingly put those close to me in real danger. Besides, there are other...more insidious Machiavellian advice that applies to the real world."
He couldn't let her know that he really thinks that Thanos is the hero that the universe didn't deserve. Even after he accomplished his goal, he quietly disappeared. He wasn't in it for money, power or fame, but for the preservation of life. He even sacrifices a beloved daughter for the cause. Richard doesn't have that kind of conviction. He could never sacrifice someone who means as much to him as Rachel does for a cause that is greater than himself. He is a selfish man. If he could lock her in a cage and keep her all to himself, then he would. If the world burns tomorrow, she's the only one worth saving. Not Bruce, not Starfire, not Damien, shit, not even Alfred.
"Which other piece of advice? This book has plenty of questionable nuggets of wisdom," she says as she waves the text around.
"My personal favorites are his teachings on the necessity of a man's appearing to be virtuous and his strong belief that it is better to be feared than love. Thanos loved his daughter, but walked her to her death anyway. Would he have done that if he feared her instead of loved her?" asks Richard as he sips on his room temperature coffee. Ick. He should ask for a refill.
"His love for her made her worthy enough to be sacrificed. As for appearing virtuous...celebrities and politicians do it all the time. They look one way in front of the cameras, but act completely different behind closed doors. I guess that's a tale as old as time," she sighs as she removes her feet from between his legs. She is tiring. He can tell. He should take her home so she can meditate before bed.
"It's how we, men, trick women into loving us," Richard says with a wink and charming smile. She scoffs.
"You think you're lovable?"
"I KNOW you lluuuvv me. How can you not? I'm perfect!"
"You're a jerk with OCD who needs to be in control of everything all the time," she deadpans. Richard's smile just widens. This wouldn't be as fun if she were so easily bamboozled by typical good looks and a few sweet words. This evening was progressing nicely until he opens his big mouth and says, "I'm still an upgrade from Malchior."
Fuck. The light hearted expression on her face drastically changes to sad then to furious in the time that it took him to blink twice. "Rachel..I didn…"
"Fuck you, Dick! I may have made some bad relationship choices, but at least I'm not hiding from Starfire and claiming we were 'just friends,'" is her angry reply. What does Starfire have to do with this? And Malchior wasn't a bad choice, he was horrendous. He played her emotions and loneliness like a harp. You don't have good taste in men, but that's why I'm here.
"I'm not hiding from Starfire. We are just friends. I'm not willing to ruin our team's dynamics for a relationship that is doomed to fail," he replies in a testy tone. Why do people keep bringing his redheaded teammate into conversations about relationships? Are other people that desperate for robstar to be a "thing?"
"Doomed to fail?! How would you know when you haven't even tried, yet! You're just a coward, Richard Grayson. At least I attempted loving someone. Loving another person requires that you relinquish some of that self control that you pride yourself on. But you're afraid to do that because you'd be giving someone else the power to influence your feelings! Emotions are messy and illogical. This image of the man you built based on discipline and rationality is just a front. You're a hot mess inside!" Rachel hisses at him as she shoves her feet into her sandals and storms out. Richard is still sitting in his chair. Stunned but what just happened, but knowing better than to chase after her right away. One minute, they were having a pleasant conversation and the next he fucked up.
He gathers himself together as he slowly stands and leaves enough money on the table to cover their meal and pick up the book she left behind. He makes his way outside but does not see her anywhere. Knowing Rachel, she opened a portal and just took herself back home. As he walks, he thinks. My hesitance doesn't come from a place of fear but from logic. How many heroes are able to maintain lasting relationships? Maybe Superman? Batman definitely isn't the ideal model to follow when it comes to significant others. He doesn't have a close enough relationship with any of the other superheroes to know how well their love lives were playing out. Not that he really cared.
As he walked, he thought. He really should apologize for his Malchior comment. He knew it was a sore spot for her and it will always be tender. He is one of the reasons why Richard feels the need to step in and take better care of Rachel. She is knowledgeable but inexperienced in the ways of the world. Especially men. They are all dangerous and they all want something from her. She needs to be wary of everyone, including this brand new Bryce character. Richard doesn't trust him and neither should she.
The minute he makes it to the Titian Tower, he beelines it to Rachel's room and gently knocks on the door. There is no answer, but he tests the doorknob anyway. It swings open and he can hear the shower running in her personal bathroom. He places her copy of The Prince on the desk by her bed. The bed is filled with pillows of all shapes and sizes. The mattress is plush to the touch and covered in dark purple bedsheets. Her room smells like incense and old books and tea. Like her. She's a gothic librarian.
He smiles a little at that thought as he makes his way to the bathroom door to let her know where he left her book. But before he could knock, he hears angry mumbling on the other side. He can't make out the words because the shower is running and the door is closed, but he can practicalIy feel the heat from the running water through the door. Instead of knocking his rests his forehead against the barrier separating him from her naked body. It's such a thin piece of wood. Flimsy protection against someone like him.
She called him a coward for not acting on what she thought were his desires. She thought his desires were directed at Starfire. He'd be the first to admit that the team's resident alien is a beautiful woman and if fucking her won't have led to her wanting more from him then he would have done it ages ago. But he didn't actually desire her. Not like he desires Rachel. He is afraid, though. He's afraid that if he loosens the reigns on his control and allows himself to pursue the one he wants then there would be no coming back from that. If he gave himself permission to act then he would already be in that shower with her. Her slippery body pushed flush against the shower wall. His face buried between her legs. Tongue on her clit and fingers flexing in her until she is cumming in his mouth. There is nothing for her to hold on to besides him. A hand pulling at his hair while the other one scratches at his shoulder. His name echoing off of the porcelain tiles of her bathroom walls.
If he gave himself permission to truly do as he pleased, he'd have the cord of her bathrobe wrapped firmly around her arms, behind her back, as he bends her over the bathroom counter. One pale thigh hooked on his arm. Lifting her a little so that she's forced to balance on her toes as his hips snap forward. He'd pull her bound arms taut with each thrust so that her spine curves beautifully. He can practicalIy see the sweat glistening on her back and the vague outline of her face in the foggy bathroom mirror. An expression that's torn between ecstasy and pain. Pleasure laying somewhere in the middle.
The sound of the water shutting off pulls Richard from his thoughts. His right hand strays down to the uncomfortable bulge in his pants. He gives it a gentle squeeze has he steps away from the door. He needs to leave. It is not safe for him to be here, like this. He's teetering on the edge of doing something irreparable. He about faces and all but scurries out of her room.
You do not want me relinquishing control, Rachel. You're not ready for what I will do to you.