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thejusticelounge2014-03-30 01:09 pm
bossymarmalade) wrote in thejusticelounge2014-03-30 01:09 pm
crème brûlée (flashback)
Kyle lands and folds his arms, grinning beatifically at Nightwing and Green Arrow as they turn away and head down the tunnel. When they’re gone from sight Kyle tilts his head, looking at Talia. “Well?” he starts brusquely, but his cockiness falters under her gaze and he swallows a bit, dropping his arms to his side and shifting from one foot to the next. The Lantern then steadies his weight, releasing her from the straps and tipping her into his arms. He flies up into the air - a hero saving the damsel in distress. “Well then Ms al Ghul.”
Talia doesn’t mind the role at all, it seems: she moves an arm around his neck, and nods. “Star City,” she says, simply.
"Why there?" he asks immediately, but quickly changes his course, changing direction to head towards Star City.
Talia smiles. “There’s a restaurant there that makes a wonderful crème brûlée.”
"Naw, I know where you want to go," Kyle says suddenly, hands tightening around Talia, fingers digging into her soft curves. She can feel him grinning against her ear when he whispers. "The crème brûlée’s for dessert, but shouldn’t we have a nice dinner first?"
The woman’s laughter is thick, saccharine sweet, a Turkish delight bit in half and thrown out for the enjoyment of waste. She slides her lips against his jaw, and she purrs, a hand curling against the back of his head, sinking into the dark brown hairs there.
"What did you have in mind?"
Kyle’s hair is damp, the short ones curled against his neck and along her fingers. Strain is showing in small ways; not from flying or carrying her, but from the battle raging within him. His grin is a little too wide, his teeth clenching together.
"Somewhere familiar, somewhere I love. Deep in the earth. Somewhere you’ve dreamed about, Talia." The Lantern lands them on the top of Queen Tower, letting Talia get to her feet before he leans in and kisses her, his white-gloved hand firmly grasping the underside of her jaw. He won’t allow her to pull away until he’s finished tasting every slick inch of her mouth. When Kyle pulls away he’s gasping for breath, with an impressed holler that’s lost in the wind. "Ready?"
But Talia has no intention of pulling away. She pushes her fingers in through the dark, sweat-stained locks of hair, and tugs them as she works her mouth against his. Her tongue isn’t sweet, but tastes, strangely, of violets. And as she slides it against his, she presses her body—small, lithe, /powerful/—against his, fitting the softness of her thigh inside his legs, against his groin.
When he pulls back, her lashes are low, mouth swelling already with the contact.
"Of course."
Kyle tugs the crabmask off his face, almost as if it doesn’t belong there. His eyes glow green and bright as he looks down at Talia, drinking her in as a low moan escapes his lips. She has fit herself perfectly against him. Kyle figures she can fit herself perfectly against any man, like some sort of ever-shifting puzzle-piece. Still, he finds he likes it, likes knowing that she /wants/ to fit against him. He likes it a lot. He slides his arm back around Talia’s small waist, locking her firmly in place. She does that thing, where she manages to press closer to him and lean back into his arm at the same time.
"Alrighty," Kyle says and grins as a construct blindfold ties itself whimsically around her large eyes. "Just want it to be a surprise, Talia." He heads to the elevator, but disregards the carriage itself. It takes some concentration to phase both himself and one other person through the steel box; but once through, it’s an easy flight down the shaft of the elevator and into the deep sub-region levels of the building.
After some more maneuvering (and he is genuinely surprised that Green Lantern Kyle Rayner still has authorization in the area. Kate? Bruce? Definitely not Queen.) he eventually undoes her blindfold. Kyle takes a few steps back, almost willing Talia to somehow recognize a place she’s never physically been in before. It’s not powered up, but the biometric surface is responsive, and lights up bright blue under their feet. ”What d’you think?” he asks hoarsely, his breath lost in mounting excitement.
She doesn’t tense when the blindfold wraps around her eyes. In fact, she leans forward, pressing her head against his shoulder and smiles as they drop. She isn’t sure if it’s his ring, but the plummet doesn’t rend her stomach from corner to corner and that alone makes her laugh, chuckling softly as they land.
When the proverbial dust has settled, her feet touching the ground, Talia blinks and looks around the room. She crouches, to touch the tiles, and then, moves to the closest curved wall, and slides her fingertips against the panels, watching how the trails of blue light up.
"It’s beautiful," she exhales, looking over her shoulder at Kyle from behind her shoulder, dark grey eyes fathomless. Something churns in them, and after a moment, Talia corrects: "../she/ is beautiful, sweet sparrow."
Talia shifts, back, towards the man. “Did you want me to see her?”
Kyle falters somewhat at the name she uses for him. A part of him hates it and it grates on his nerves, yet he also loves that Talia thinks to use it. It feels…considerate, like their shared secret. ”She’s been rebuilt. Not the same from the last time I was here…” Kyle comes towards her again like he’s on a string, glowing bright green to offset the dark blue illumination from the floor. The result of light and dark playing on Talia’s face is once again soft and smooth just like it was in the Wayne Manor rose garden. It wasn’t his place in the Manor; but now Kyle feels right reaching up and smudging his thumb along her face. He tries to define the lines of her body with his fingers, but it doesn’t work.
"Didn’t you /want/ to see this place? I think you did." He turns towards the door, watching as a chillingly accurate sketch of Damian draws itself in three-dimensions. The construct Damian stands at the entrance, looking beseechingly at them both. His face is utterly guileless and trusting, and he soft mouths the word "أمي". Construct Damian has no voice, but the HSR, even in its power-down state, is responding and amplifying Kyle’s powers. The visual recreation of the boy has no voice, but they can hear him clearly.
"It’s the only way we can see him, now."
Talia is soft and yielding against Kyle’s touch. Giving and without thought, that is, until he appears. The construct—the lines of his face spanning out across the darkness of the space around them, the HSR’s womb-not-womb—is so vivid, so agonizingly /accurate/ that Talia feels a pang, deep in her belly just below her own womb, where it twists and jerks angrily against the emotional onslaught.
Without thinking it, without any sort of second thought, she reaches for the boy—who seems tinier than she remembers him being, and that’s not right, it’s only been months since she had seen him last—her fingertips attempting to brush his cheek.
"He sent him away," she murmurs, words silken, shivering over currents of air off the tip of her tongue. She is mournful. She is livid.
The first time Kyle was in the HSR was when he’d felt a connection to Talia. It was through Damian, because of the way the boy had come in and stood there, believing in Kyle and seeking his mother. But Kyle never had much time to think about that connection; he’d pushed it out of his mind, and then Cachement happened and then Damian was gone. That was that.
Now Kyle was back, with the real Talia and an image of Damian that Kyle couldn’t breathe life into; and even if he did, it still wouldn’t be real. It wouldn’t be Damian. The HSR didn’t pulse or respond, but Kyle could still feel it around him. Like a womb.
"It was for his own good," Kyle said, half convincing himself. "For his own safety, away from you." /And away from me/.
And that was it. A light bulb moment.
A theory Kyle hadn’t considered before, except now - standing here, compromised mentally and with Talia al Ghul - it made sense. Maybe Kyle’s ties to Damian were borderline unhealthy, he could admit that now that there was distance between them. And Bruce would always have multiple reasons for doing the things he did to keep his son protected… And in a way - if Kyle’s sad epiphany was true - he couldn’t even be upset. Because it meant that Kyle wasn’t a protector of Damian. He was a liability.
He sighed, the construct of Damian fading, even as Talia’s fingers still brushed its fat round cheeks.
"I shouldn’t have brought you here," Kyle murmured. "We should go, Talia."
But Talia did not shared the same understanding of the situation. The image of Damian, even now as it faded, set her teeth on edge. Kindled the ember of a fire that burned in her belly, deep in the winding trails of viscera, setting her blood aflame. Her fingers did not stop, even as the image faded, and when he spoke, she turned to face the Lantern, lashes parting to wide, soft eyes.
"Why?" She asked, unwilling to leave, not just yet. "Why should we go anywhere we don’t wish to go, Kyle?"
"I’m not Kyle," he smiled suddenly; and then he was on her, picking Talia up under the swell of her ass and pushing her up against one of the panels of the HSR. His mouth is on her before she can even make any noise, sucking in her breath and exhaling it back over her lips and skin. "Tell me what you want me to do, Talia al Ghul. Before the crème brûlée."
She undulates in his grasp, like she means to get away, but instead, parts her legs and moves her hands to cup the side of his face. Her nails scrape against the sides of his face, down his neck and she kisses his mouth, exhaling. She doesn’t taste like anything but herself, her tongue soft as she slides it against his front teeth.
"I want to feel you between my thighs," her voice is strong, it doesn’t waver. "I want to bring you to an aching peak.." Her smile purses her mouth, as she pulls back from their kiss. She drags her teeth against her lip, worrying it. "I want you to take me, my darling."
"Mmm-hm. I’m sure you say that to all the guys," his voice drags down her neck as he bites and nips, not bothering to use any sort of gentility or finesse. "How many of us have you felled? I know Kyle Rayner couldn’t be the only one. Who else? Queen? …Kate? Naw, she’s too smart for the likes of you."
Hands scoop on the pliant flesh of her thighs, spreading her wider and hoisting Talia right up off the ground. She’s small and flexible and Kyle can easily pin her with his hips as he pulls off her blouse and wrenches her bra up, letting her breasts tumble out to meet his eager mouth.
"Even if I did," she answers back, calmly. "Does it diminish my desire for you?" She pulls back, allowing him to remove her clothes, and when he pulls at her bra, she gasps, and then laughs, softly. Her hands drift to cup her breasts, to scrape her nails, lightly, over her nipples. They harden and she leans back against the cool, smooth wall of the HSR. It lights up, blue, against her skin.
"I want /you/.." She murmurs, bringing her hand to snake her fingers through the short hairs at the base of his head, behind his ears. "And if you’re not Kyle, sparrow, what should I call you?"
"No…no no. To name a thing, Talia. Kyle is fine; sparrow, even better." He cups her offered breast and rolls the hard nipple between his teeth; first one, then the other, pebbling the sensitive skin and then some. He wants it to hurt. "I don’t know if I want you more, or if Kyle does. Or perhaps your son…"
He reaches up and cards his fingers through Talia’s long hair, twining it and pulling her head back, taut. “No one can resist you, can’t they.” Kyle releases her and takes a couple steps back, looking hungry; predator and prey. “Take your clothes off.”
Talia gasps when Kyle bites at her nipples—they are a dark brown, dusky and growing swollen under his ministrations—and arches her back as she slams her hand back against the wall when he pulls on her hair. Then, the command comes, and Talia acquiesces, and her clothes slip off her body as if she had pulled the seams out from the edges. They pool at her feet, and she unzips her boots, before stepping forward, nude. Gloriously bare.
Her sex is already swollen, the lips puffy under the thin dusting of hair that she has left at the cleft of them, and she moves to him, sliding her hands to ruck up the hem of his shirt, pulling it off so she can press her bare skin to his. She drags her open mouth along his collarbone, to his shoulder, before dragging her teeth against his skin. Her hands move, to open Kyle’s jeans and she pushes her hand inside to find the thick coil of his sex, pulling it out. Without warning, she lowers herself to her knees, and takes the tip of his cock between her lips, sucking the first inch into her mouth.
Kyle looks down at her, watches her every move. He is observant, noting both Talia’s physical presence and the motion of her actions with the eyes of an artist and a demon. Every bit of her is grace and purpose, electrifying him to the core, even though there is an emptiness in her eyes. Not that he cares about that. Kyle’s hand instinctively curves around her head, pushing her insistently further along his cock, willing her to swallow him in fully.
"You’re beautiful like this," he moans softly, lust melding with pleasure. Talia’s mouth is warm and accommodating, her lips pursed along the shaft in a promising way for what he was going to do to her later. Kyle tilts his hips to bump the head of his cock into the back of her pulsing throat; and again, she accommodates. "This is /your/ position of power, Talia. You were made for this….goddamn."
Talia moans softly around the girth of Kyle’s length and pushes her head in deeper, taking the length of him down into her throat, and hollows her cheeks, breathing through her nose. The softness of him at the tip is overshadowed by how hard he grows at the middle, base of his shaft, and she lifts her hand to cup his sac, gently squeezing them between her fingers as she pulls her head back. Back down. She tilts her head so she can bob, freely, the noises growing wetter as the seconds slip. Her free hand moves to her own legs, between her thighs, and Kyle doesn’t need to /see/ to /hear/ her arousal: her fingers slide between the folds of her sex, the smell of sex filling the space between them.
"Mmm, do you smell that, Talia? Makes my mouth water," Kyle laughs hoarsely, swallowing hard at the same time that she pauses to do the same - she’s all delicate grace of course. But suddenly her passive wanton act is not enough for him - and the next thing she knows Kyle’s pushed her off roughly and he’s turned her around, facing away. His hand is around the back of her neck as he presses her forward and down, until she’s compelled to balance herself on all fours.
"That’s better," Kyle says as he kneels behind her, releasing her neck and trailing his hand down the soft sway of her spine, along each bump and down to the cleft of her ass. He curls in and licks a wet stripe down further, deeper into her. His hands spread her out more…but his hands also cup around her plush hanging breasts, twisting and pinching at her nipples. Construct hands. Thickly green-black, they are warm and calloused and rendered perfectly.
The constructs are not Kyle’s hands. They’re Bruce’s.
She lands with grace onto her hands and knees, and near-instantly, when she lands, spreads her thighs so he can do and have what he wants. She lowers herself onto her elbows, ass proud and high in the air and her sex clenches at nothing, desiring all of it, her lips swollen and damp. At the first touch of his hand, she gasps, and then pushes against him when he licks into the softest, most private part of her. Another soft sound slips from her, and she rocks back against Kyle, until she feels his hands against her breasts. And realizes..
"I’ll take your hands at the wrists."
Despite being naked as the day she was born, the threat is not idle in its delivery: she /means/ it. She does not turn back, but doesn’t pull away, not just yet, when she states what she does.
There’s nothing loving or kind about the way Kyle is eating her out. He’s using his tongue and teeth like weapons of lust against Talia’s tender flesh, dipping into her and using her own slickness to arouse her further, even though she’s pretty much ready already.
But her threat gives him pause. She can’t see him, but she can feel that he’s suddenly gone from her - flesh and constructs - until one of ‘Bruce’s’ hands return around her mouth and clamps over it. Kyle holds her hips in place from behind as he angles his cock into her. She’s so wet that it only takes a moment of suction around his head before he’s pushing all the way in.
"C’mon Talia, use your imagination." Inside her, Kyle rolls his hips in a lazy circle and then pulls back only as far as the head of his cock. "Just close your eyes and pretend it’s him. Him giving you Damian all over again." Kyle’s voice twists into a hiss, fiery and burnt at the edges. "I’ll give you a whole new Damian in your belly, Talia."
Talia doesn’t allow a sound to escape from her mouth when he pushes inside of her body. There is no satisfaction to be given here, but she does not pull away, does not fight the fullness of his prick as it opens her up, cleaves her sex open for the taking. She even rocks back against him on a slow drive inward, but when he says what he does, she laughs, a full throated and heady sound.
"You.." She sneers, and looks back over her shoulder, her expression haughty and contemptuous, as she cock her pelvis and squeezes her muscles around him with a cruel ease. She pushes back, burying him to the hilt inside of her body, and snarls. "You could condense and multiply your power, a thousandfold.. Make your—nghhh—" She pulls back, then pushes onto him again, shifting her weight onto one arm so she can slip a hand between her legs, fingers finding the rise of her clit. Her voice is husky, cloying. "But you will /never/, ever be /him/, Rayner."
"I keep telling you, /querida/ - I’m not Rayner. Not quite, anyway," Kyle says. He chooses the term of endearment carefully. It’s one Kyle’s unwittingly heard Bruce calling Kate, at some point between Cachement and now.
Kyle picks up the pace, grinding into her as his balls making a wet slap against her flushed skin with every pump. When he slows, he’s almost gentle as he fucks her. Even taking the time to lick his finger and tease it around the pink pucker between the round softness of her ass. Every time he resumes the pace he gets rougher, harder, his hipbones bruising her flesh. His fingers grip her tightly to move her at will, using her without restraint.
"I’m…not…mm, Bruce. I know /that/," Kyle says between pants, sweat sheening off his skin from exertion. He’s close, he can feel it. ""But face it Talia - you’ve lost Damian. You’ve - hnn - you’ve /lost/." Kyle tenses, arcing his back as he slams his hips one more time against Talia, keeping his cock buried as it empties deep inside her in long sticky stripes.
If she notices the endearment, Talia doesn’t let it show. If she allows Kyle’s words to sink in, about who he is, she doesn’t acknowledge it. But when he begins to thrust into her harder, the wet noises of each point of contact growing louder and louder, she lets her nails scrape against the HSR’s floor, before slapping a sweat-damp palm against it. Suddenly, the room glows, and a ghostly set of stars surrounds them, spinning them in orbit through a constellation that she doesn’t quite recognize. Talia, looking up, groans softly, and pushes her fingers against the nub of her clit faster, as he thrusts.
He speaks, and she listens, and hisses, bucking when he says it—says that she’s lost—but then, he’s coming, and she closes her eyes at the feeling of his seed spilling within her. It’s hot, and it fills her, but Talia makes sure not to stop, not to let herself become overwhelmed at the sensation. Her nails flick against her clit and with a silent hiccup from her open mouth, she comes, wordlessly. Her body clenches tight, muscles closing like a vise around him in random, spasm-like trembles and she pulls off before she is done, rolling onto her back as she catches her breath.
"Oh.." She pants, her chest flushed, even as the stars spin around them, her knees pressing together as she holds the sticky-sweet reward of his come inside her. She pushes a hand over Kyle’s stomach, laughing softly as she catches her breath. "If this is losing, sweet sparrow, why does it feel so /good/?"
Talia doesn’t mind the role at all, it seems: she moves an arm around his neck, and nods. “Star City,” she says, simply.
"Why there?" he asks immediately, but quickly changes his course, changing direction to head towards Star City.
Talia smiles. “There’s a restaurant there that makes a wonderful crème brûlée.”
"Naw, I know where you want to go," Kyle says suddenly, hands tightening around Talia, fingers digging into her soft curves. She can feel him grinning against her ear when he whispers. "The crème brûlée’s for dessert, but shouldn’t we have a nice dinner first?"
The woman’s laughter is thick, saccharine sweet, a Turkish delight bit in half and thrown out for the enjoyment of waste. She slides her lips against his jaw, and she purrs, a hand curling against the back of his head, sinking into the dark brown hairs there.
"What did you have in mind?"
Kyle’s hair is damp, the short ones curled against his neck and along her fingers. Strain is showing in small ways; not from flying or carrying her, but from the battle raging within him. His grin is a little too wide, his teeth clenching together.
"Somewhere familiar, somewhere I love. Deep in the earth. Somewhere you’ve dreamed about, Talia." The Lantern lands them on the top of Queen Tower, letting Talia get to her feet before he leans in and kisses her, his white-gloved hand firmly grasping the underside of her jaw. He won’t allow her to pull away until he’s finished tasting every slick inch of her mouth. When Kyle pulls away he’s gasping for breath, with an impressed holler that’s lost in the wind. "Ready?"
But Talia has no intention of pulling away. She pushes her fingers in through the dark, sweat-stained locks of hair, and tugs them as she works her mouth against his. Her tongue isn’t sweet, but tastes, strangely, of violets. And as she slides it against his, she presses her body—small, lithe, /powerful/—against his, fitting the softness of her thigh inside his legs, against his groin.
When he pulls back, her lashes are low, mouth swelling already with the contact.
"Of course."
Kyle tugs the crabmask off his face, almost as if it doesn’t belong there. His eyes glow green and bright as he looks down at Talia, drinking her in as a low moan escapes his lips. She has fit herself perfectly against him. Kyle figures she can fit herself perfectly against any man, like some sort of ever-shifting puzzle-piece. Still, he finds he likes it, likes knowing that she /wants/ to fit against him. He likes it a lot. He slides his arm back around Talia’s small waist, locking her firmly in place. She does that thing, where she manages to press closer to him and lean back into his arm at the same time.
"Alrighty," Kyle says and grins as a construct blindfold ties itself whimsically around her large eyes. "Just want it to be a surprise, Talia." He heads to the elevator, but disregards the carriage itself. It takes some concentration to phase both himself and one other person through the steel box; but once through, it’s an easy flight down the shaft of the elevator and into the deep sub-region levels of the building.
After some more maneuvering (and he is genuinely surprised that Green Lantern Kyle Rayner still has authorization in the area. Kate? Bruce? Definitely not Queen.) he eventually undoes her blindfold. Kyle takes a few steps back, almost willing Talia to somehow recognize a place she’s never physically been in before. It’s not powered up, but the biometric surface is responsive, and lights up bright blue under their feet. ”What d’you think?” he asks hoarsely, his breath lost in mounting excitement.
She doesn’t tense when the blindfold wraps around her eyes. In fact, she leans forward, pressing her head against his shoulder and smiles as they drop. She isn’t sure if it’s his ring, but the plummet doesn’t rend her stomach from corner to corner and that alone makes her laugh, chuckling softly as they land.
When the proverbial dust has settled, her feet touching the ground, Talia blinks and looks around the room. She crouches, to touch the tiles, and then, moves to the closest curved wall, and slides her fingertips against the panels, watching how the trails of blue light up.
"It’s beautiful," she exhales, looking over her shoulder at Kyle from behind her shoulder, dark grey eyes fathomless. Something churns in them, and after a moment, Talia corrects: "../she/ is beautiful, sweet sparrow."
Talia shifts, back, towards the man. “Did you want me to see her?”
Kyle falters somewhat at the name she uses for him. A part of him hates it and it grates on his nerves, yet he also loves that Talia thinks to use it. It feels…considerate, like their shared secret. ”She’s been rebuilt. Not the same from the last time I was here…” Kyle comes towards her again like he’s on a string, glowing bright green to offset the dark blue illumination from the floor. The result of light and dark playing on Talia’s face is once again soft and smooth just like it was in the Wayne Manor rose garden. It wasn’t his place in the Manor; but now Kyle feels right reaching up and smudging his thumb along her face. He tries to define the lines of her body with his fingers, but it doesn’t work.
"Didn’t you /want/ to see this place? I think you did." He turns towards the door, watching as a chillingly accurate sketch of Damian draws itself in three-dimensions. The construct Damian stands at the entrance, looking beseechingly at them both. His face is utterly guileless and trusting, and he soft mouths the word "أمي". Construct Damian has no voice, but the HSR, even in its power-down state, is responding and amplifying Kyle’s powers. The visual recreation of the boy has no voice, but they can hear him clearly.
"It’s the only way we can see him, now."
Talia is soft and yielding against Kyle’s touch. Giving and without thought, that is, until he appears. The construct—the lines of his face spanning out across the darkness of the space around them, the HSR’s womb-not-womb—is so vivid, so agonizingly /accurate/ that Talia feels a pang, deep in her belly just below her own womb, where it twists and jerks angrily against the emotional onslaught.
Without thinking it, without any sort of second thought, she reaches for the boy—who seems tinier than she remembers him being, and that’s not right, it’s only been months since she had seen him last—her fingertips attempting to brush his cheek.
"He sent him away," she murmurs, words silken, shivering over currents of air off the tip of her tongue. She is mournful. She is livid.
The first time Kyle was in the HSR was when he’d felt a connection to Talia. It was through Damian, because of the way the boy had come in and stood there, believing in Kyle and seeking his mother. But Kyle never had much time to think about that connection; he’d pushed it out of his mind, and then Cachement happened and then Damian was gone. That was that.
Now Kyle was back, with the real Talia and an image of Damian that Kyle couldn’t breathe life into; and even if he did, it still wouldn’t be real. It wouldn’t be Damian. The HSR didn’t pulse or respond, but Kyle could still feel it around him. Like a womb.
"It was for his own good," Kyle said, half convincing himself. "For his own safety, away from you." /And away from me/.
And that was it. A light bulb moment.
A theory Kyle hadn’t considered before, except now - standing here, compromised mentally and with Talia al Ghul - it made sense. Maybe Kyle’s ties to Damian were borderline unhealthy, he could admit that now that there was distance between them. And Bruce would always have multiple reasons for doing the things he did to keep his son protected… And in a way - if Kyle’s sad epiphany was true - he couldn’t even be upset. Because it meant that Kyle wasn’t a protector of Damian. He was a liability.
He sighed, the construct of Damian fading, even as Talia’s fingers still brushed its fat round cheeks.
"I shouldn’t have brought you here," Kyle murmured. "We should go, Talia."
But Talia did not shared the same understanding of the situation. The image of Damian, even now as it faded, set her teeth on edge. Kindled the ember of a fire that burned in her belly, deep in the winding trails of viscera, setting her blood aflame. Her fingers did not stop, even as the image faded, and when he spoke, she turned to face the Lantern, lashes parting to wide, soft eyes.
"Why?" She asked, unwilling to leave, not just yet. "Why should we go anywhere we don’t wish to go, Kyle?"
"I’m not Kyle," he smiled suddenly; and then he was on her, picking Talia up under the swell of her ass and pushing her up against one of the panels of the HSR. His mouth is on her before she can even make any noise, sucking in her breath and exhaling it back over her lips and skin. "Tell me what you want me to do, Talia al Ghul. Before the crème brûlée."
She undulates in his grasp, like she means to get away, but instead, parts her legs and moves her hands to cup the side of his face. Her nails scrape against the sides of his face, down his neck and she kisses his mouth, exhaling. She doesn’t taste like anything but herself, her tongue soft as she slides it against his front teeth.
"I want to feel you between my thighs," her voice is strong, it doesn’t waver. "I want to bring you to an aching peak.." Her smile purses her mouth, as she pulls back from their kiss. She drags her teeth against her lip, worrying it. "I want you to take me, my darling."
"Mmm-hm. I’m sure you say that to all the guys," his voice drags down her neck as he bites and nips, not bothering to use any sort of gentility or finesse. "How many of us have you felled? I know Kyle Rayner couldn’t be the only one. Who else? Queen? …Kate? Naw, she’s too smart for the likes of you."
Hands scoop on the pliant flesh of her thighs, spreading her wider and hoisting Talia right up off the ground. She’s small and flexible and Kyle can easily pin her with his hips as he pulls off her blouse and wrenches her bra up, letting her breasts tumble out to meet his eager mouth.
"Even if I did," she answers back, calmly. "Does it diminish my desire for you?" She pulls back, allowing him to remove her clothes, and when he pulls at her bra, she gasps, and then laughs, softly. Her hands drift to cup her breasts, to scrape her nails, lightly, over her nipples. They harden and she leans back against the cool, smooth wall of the HSR. It lights up, blue, against her skin.
"I want /you/.." She murmurs, bringing her hand to snake her fingers through the short hairs at the base of his head, behind his ears. "And if you’re not Kyle, sparrow, what should I call you?"
"No…no no. To name a thing, Talia. Kyle is fine; sparrow, even better." He cups her offered breast and rolls the hard nipple between his teeth; first one, then the other, pebbling the sensitive skin and then some. He wants it to hurt. "I don’t know if I want you more, or if Kyle does. Or perhaps your son…"
He reaches up and cards his fingers through Talia’s long hair, twining it and pulling her head back, taut. “No one can resist you, can’t they.” Kyle releases her and takes a couple steps back, looking hungry; predator and prey. “Take your clothes off.”
Talia gasps when Kyle bites at her nipples—they are a dark brown, dusky and growing swollen under his ministrations—and arches her back as she slams her hand back against the wall when he pulls on her hair. Then, the command comes, and Talia acquiesces, and her clothes slip off her body as if she had pulled the seams out from the edges. They pool at her feet, and she unzips her boots, before stepping forward, nude. Gloriously bare.
Her sex is already swollen, the lips puffy under the thin dusting of hair that she has left at the cleft of them, and she moves to him, sliding her hands to ruck up the hem of his shirt, pulling it off so she can press her bare skin to his. She drags her open mouth along his collarbone, to his shoulder, before dragging her teeth against his skin. Her hands move, to open Kyle’s jeans and she pushes her hand inside to find the thick coil of his sex, pulling it out. Without warning, she lowers herself to her knees, and takes the tip of his cock between her lips, sucking the first inch into her mouth.
Kyle looks down at her, watches her every move. He is observant, noting both Talia’s physical presence and the motion of her actions with the eyes of an artist and a demon. Every bit of her is grace and purpose, electrifying him to the core, even though there is an emptiness in her eyes. Not that he cares about that. Kyle’s hand instinctively curves around her head, pushing her insistently further along his cock, willing her to swallow him in fully.
"You’re beautiful like this," he moans softly, lust melding with pleasure. Talia’s mouth is warm and accommodating, her lips pursed along the shaft in a promising way for what he was going to do to her later. Kyle tilts his hips to bump the head of his cock into the back of her pulsing throat; and again, she accommodates. "This is /your/ position of power, Talia. You were made for this….goddamn."
Talia moans softly around the girth of Kyle’s length and pushes her head in deeper, taking the length of him down into her throat, and hollows her cheeks, breathing through her nose. The softness of him at the tip is overshadowed by how hard he grows at the middle, base of his shaft, and she lifts her hand to cup his sac, gently squeezing them between her fingers as she pulls her head back. Back down. She tilts her head so she can bob, freely, the noises growing wetter as the seconds slip. Her free hand moves to her own legs, between her thighs, and Kyle doesn’t need to /see/ to /hear/ her arousal: her fingers slide between the folds of her sex, the smell of sex filling the space between them.
"Mmm, do you smell that, Talia? Makes my mouth water," Kyle laughs hoarsely, swallowing hard at the same time that she pauses to do the same - she’s all delicate grace of course. But suddenly her passive wanton act is not enough for him - and the next thing she knows Kyle’s pushed her off roughly and he’s turned her around, facing away. His hand is around the back of her neck as he presses her forward and down, until she’s compelled to balance herself on all fours.
"That’s better," Kyle says as he kneels behind her, releasing her neck and trailing his hand down the soft sway of her spine, along each bump and down to the cleft of her ass. He curls in and licks a wet stripe down further, deeper into her. His hands spread her out more…but his hands also cup around her plush hanging breasts, twisting and pinching at her nipples. Construct hands. Thickly green-black, they are warm and calloused and rendered perfectly.
The constructs are not Kyle’s hands. They’re Bruce’s.
She lands with grace onto her hands and knees, and near-instantly, when she lands, spreads her thighs so he can do and have what he wants. She lowers herself onto her elbows, ass proud and high in the air and her sex clenches at nothing, desiring all of it, her lips swollen and damp. At the first touch of his hand, she gasps, and then pushes against him when he licks into the softest, most private part of her. Another soft sound slips from her, and she rocks back against Kyle, until she feels his hands against her breasts. And realizes..
"I’ll take your hands at the wrists."
Despite being naked as the day she was born, the threat is not idle in its delivery: she /means/ it. She does not turn back, but doesn’t pull away, not just yet, when she states what she does.
There’s nothing loving or kind about the way Kyle is eating her out. He’s using his tongue and teeth like weapons of lust against Talia’s tender flesh, dipping into her and using her own slickness to arouse her further, even though she’s pretty much ready already.
But her threat gives him pause. She can’t see him, but she can feel that he’s suddenly gone from her - flesh and constructs - until one of ‘Bruce’s’ hands return around her mouth and clamps over it. Kyle holds her hips in place from behind as he angles his cock into her. She’s so wet that it only takes a moment of suction around his head before he’s pushing all the way in.
"C’mon Talia, use your imagination." Inside her, Kyle rolls his hips in a lazy circle and then pulls back only as far as the head of his cock. "Just close your eyes and pretend it’s him. Him giving you Damian all over again." Kyle’s voice twists into a hiss, fiery and burnt at the edges. "I’ll give you a whole new Damian in your belly, Talia."
Talia doesn’t allow a sound to escape from her mouth when he pushes inside of her body. There is no satisfaction to be given here, but she does not pull away, does not fight the fullness of his prick as it opens her up, cleaves her sex open for the taking. She even rocks back against him on a slow drive inward, but when he says what he does, she laughs, a full throated and heady sound.
"You.." She sneers, and looks back over her shoulder, her expression haughty and contemptuous, as she cock her pelvis and squeezes her muscles around him with a cruel ease. She pushes back, burying him to the hilt inside of her body, and snarls. "You could condense and multiply your power, a thousandfold.. Make your—nghhh—" She pulls back, then pushes onto him again, shifting her weight onto one arm so she can slip a hand between her legs, fingers finding the rise of her clit. Her voice is husky, cloying. "But you will /never/, ever be /him/, Rayner."
"I keep telling you, /querida/ - I’m not Rayner. Not quite, anyway," Kyle says. He chooses the term of endearment carefully. It’s one Kyle’s unwittingly heard Bruce calling Kate, at some point between Cachement and now.
Kyle picks up the pace, grinding into her as his balls making a wet slap against her flushed skin with every pump. When he slows, he’s almost gentle as he fucks her. Even taking the time to lick his finger and tease it around the pink pucker between the round softness of her ass. Every time he resumes the pace he gets rougher, harder, his hipbones bruising her flesh. His fingers grip her tightly to move her at will, using her without restraint.
"I’m…not…mm, Bruce. I know /that/," Kyle says between pants, sweat sheening off his skin from exertion. He’s close, he can feel it. ""But face it Talia - you’ve lost Damian. You’ve - hnn - you’ve /lost/." Kyle tenses, arcing his back as he slams his hips one more time against Talia, keeping his cock buried as it empties deep inside her in long sticky stripes.
If she notices the endearment, Talia doesn’t let it show. If she allows Kyle’s words to sink in, about who he is, she doesn’t acknowledge it. But when he begins to thrust into her harder, the wet noises of each point of contact growing louder and louder, she lets her nails scrape against the HSR’s floor, before slapping a sweat-damp palm against it. Suddenly, the room glows, and a ghostly set of stars surrounds them, spinning them in orbit through a constellation that she doesn’t quite recognize. Talia, looking up, groans softly, and pushes her fingers against the nub of her clit faster, as he thrusts.
He speaks, and she listens, and hisses, bucking when he says it—says that she’s lost—but then, he’s coming, and she closes her eyes at the feeling of his seed spilling within her. It’s hot, and it fills her, but Talia makes sure not to stop, not to let herself become overwhelmed at the sensation. Her nails flick against her clit and with a silent hiccup from her open mouth, she comes, wordlessly. Her body clenches tight, muscles closing like a vise around him in random, spasm-like trembles and she pulls off before she is done, rolling onto her back as she catches her breath.
"Oh.." She pants, her chest flushed, even as the stars spin around them, her knees pressing together as she holds the sticky-sweet reward of his come inside her. She pushes a hand over Kyle’s stomach, laughing softly as she catches her breath. "If this is losing, sweet sparrow, why does it feel so /good/?"