(KAI) Turns out... Nubia lies south of the first cataract of the Nile River. Damn.
Also, I made up a lot of word, so sorry for that.
This afternoon I caught a few minutes of the "Spellbound" episode, and I though to myself, "Goodness, how many times are they going to rerun this?"
Malchior seems to have this effect (Raven: "That's funny; you're funny."); and I'm happy to write it to the end.

Chapter Ten: Peace

I have suffered more than any man should...

For one thousand years, suffered for the peace of the world...

And I deserve my prize; I will not suffer any more.

It was Cyborg under an umbrella with Beast Boy, out on the rocks with a barrel and a book of matches to burn the book of evil. The rain had poured on, and it was a none-too friendly drizzle, complete with thunderous rolling clouds and lightning-fast flashes of electricity; the two young men held somber expressions, and were silent, save for the swipe of a match head 'gainst the pack box. Fizzle, flicker, flame, and the match was dropped in a small cacophony of rustling papers; of driftwood recycled and already dead; the book in Beast Boy's claws, dropped and watched in morbid fascination as it burned, and as the creature inside it tremored and shook the leather binding, and wailed in agony. It was not torture, really... it wasn't...

But the boys could have been pictured perhaps with tears, unshed or not.

She was laid out on the couch, her head resting warm on his thigh, subconscious to the lithe fingers in her hair; Malchior could speak and do this, and sip demurely at the tea in his free hand with a delicious air of conquerment. Across him, balanced lightly, and perhaps a bit agitatedly, was Robin, an intense expression on his lips and eyes; he regarded the man before him with a sort of vicious regard- his anger stemming from the righteously cool and superior attitude of the man. What a man! God, for her to have fallen in love with such a cold, self-important, elitist prick...! Not that Robin cared... No...

Still frustrated, Robin crossed his arms, "So... You were 'the paper man' who taught Raven the spells... and Rorek was a dragon who..."

"Stole my name, young sir, and made away with the weaves of the spell intended for my escape from the book." Oh, said with such the know-it-all tone, and that 'canary cat' smile creeping on the man's lips- infuriating bastard!

Robin held his tongue from the scathing remark itching at his vocal chords, and continued; "Up on the roof today, Raven was trying to release you again?"

Iced blue eyes narrowed with a slow circular smirk, "Yes; and she may even have succeeded, if not for... circumstances."

The man ruffled him more than any other person had in his lifetime; not even the Bat himself had pressed his buttons so carefully and casually, and fucking accurately- Jesus. The flush of red anger died of its own volition on Robin's cheeks, and he finished the sum-up; "Rorek- as in "Malchior" Rorek, was called-"

Malchior nodded; slowly, a calculated move which earned him the most delightful twitch from the other man- young or no.

"-and what we fought on the roof was him. Not you; and the dragon... never was you?"

"Precisely," Malchior said, mug pressed to his lips. His hand curled around Raven's sleeping peaceful skull and rubbed the softness of her hair with a thumb; he did this and did not look to do it, but rather gazed evenly at the young man across him; he did not disnotice the stiffness in the spine, and the most tempered, quiet and pale blush which rose; he smiled. Raven was his. A lovely catch, the sweetest trophy, and a possession worth loving with every spelled molecule.

"I suppose we owe you an apology," Robin said with surprising civility, one hand extended as he stood.

The mage settled his tea relaxedly, and firmly accepted the shake thereafter; a sort of glittering all-knowingness in his eyes; perhaps it was cruel, but then, the source of much amusement often stemmed here. Correct? Sure.

The leader Robin began to leave, perhaps to brief the spunky red-haired girl he'd commanded not enter into the room while they spoke (Mal could recall her and her peculiar mannerisms, and could not decide off-handedly if he'd chosen to like her or not). "Um, well; Malchior-"

Said with venom? Said with jealousy? Or had the young man matured past the difficulty in those seconds?

Pity.

"-welcome to the Tower."

She was waking up, slowly, and a little leisurely, which she had not done for some time, come to think on it and ponder; she had not been so relaxed in ages, in weeks, since having the tome leave her arms... She blinked lashes-heavy, and registered the warmth beneath her, and the damp of her hair on her face; the rain beating heavier on the window, and the flash of light, which illuminated the grey tone of blue under her shivering body. These were the shadows wrapping around, and finding her; she blinked and let out a yawn; a small one, just slightly, to appease the oxygenated needs. And her fingers stretched across the torso, dimly aware, for being so tired it was difficult to make absolute analyzations. He ran his hand over her back, and held it there, over her neck, to pinch the nerves gently and ease her further awake.

An ordeal passed over and through her, and the shadows chased the remembrance away; little concern of the dragon then, for having used so much energy... so much feeling... just to be rid of it. Like a pest.

"Malchior," she whispered, and held her arms around his waist- Oh, he was so much bigger than she, so tall and imposing in a way... and he was here with her, with that protective arm on her. "Did you carry me here?"

"I did," a whisper in return, as though honoring something just a little bit holy in the sanctity of the bedroom; the very obviously, precariously, definite bedroom.

Raven smiled and sat up; it was not so hard to do, for her feeling rather energized after the what-she-would-refuse-later-to-call-a-nap; and she blushed to find him- the mage and master of her emotions- stretched and comfortable on her bed. Sprawled on his back like a cat, and smiling similarly, a sort of model of dark and delicious and daring for something unspoken, unsaid. The girl, rubbed her hands over her arms and the chills began to wear away, though she began to wonder how greatly the shivers were doting upon the cold; the cold indeed.

He eyed her, and smiled lazily, and seemed perfectly content; as though some sort of long, drawn-out battle or argument had been succeeded by him, and he could only bask delightedly in the glow; certainly, it seemed, time had slowed down a bit for Raven. It was very, very, very and quite unreal to have him there next to her, and truth to be told, it was strange. She was not entirely sure what to do with herself from there on out; old pains had been replaced rather neatly by the confusions of how she currently felt and by the unknowing wonderment of how she should act from there on out. And damnable mage wasn't doing anything but posing and relaxing, and offering not the slightest bit of empathy, aside from some sort of rock star's attention which Raven was sure she did not need to explore right then. Though... it certainly was tempting.

Any other fifteen year-old might have willingly given their soul to the Great One simply and merely to have the opportunity to... well... capture a handsome, modelesque man onto their beds. But Raven only blushed, and tried very hard to put these thoughts to rest, a and out of her mind, because God knew at the rate her heart might start pounding she may not be able to hear any normal thoughts chasing around in her head. And chief of these concerns, as par with the norm, was simply where to go from here.

"Ah, child," was his voice and hands on her skin as he sat up, and it sent a shiver, a shake, over her, a sort of movement of her soul around her shoulders, and he held her at the shoulders against him. He spoke, and the cloth shield 'crosst his face usually was draped over his collarbones distractingly. "Finally we might have peace."

Raven nodded, but was swept with unsurity.

But his fingers were on her again, and in her hair, across her skin, and roaming, touching, shivering on her, and it was so hard to concentrate on the problems of the future when the present was trying to take up so much of one's time. When the present had its fingers wrapped in one's hair and tucked against one's clothing. His voice; "You look beautiful in white."

She blushed, and the intonation had been there- of rings, and vows, and a promise- and she could imagine herself in a dress- in skirts and in blouses- she could see herself on his arm, no longer having to worry... for worry naught beside a man so strong and... loving... There, a pang in her chest, a lancing reminder, the lightning of confusion again in her heart, and his concerned voice at her gasp, his eyes boring concern into her, until it really... didn't matter... in a way...

She found a spot of boldness in her worn psyche, and hurled it at him; "Do you love me?"

Perhaps she had expected something more dramatic, the actions of a man desperate to prove something- a grasp, an embrace- the softest of first kisses- but only an inclined chin, and a deliberate nod, solemn eyes, and the utterly truthful, "Yes."

There and then was the delicate sensation her imagination surely was to blame in producing; a quiet little hush, and a moment of solidity; something to lean on to. Raven felt her face heat and her eyes water; worry. What was there to worry about? The softness came up on her and washed her somewhere- a little trickle and wave, and the desperate femininity- little droplets on her cheeks, and flowing out the need to control... little-crowned need to know, and to direct, and to maintain the perfect flow of her life in one direction, all a flutter-and-gone and exorcised.

She leant into his touch, allowed herself to be small, and fragile, and quiet- oh, to be so soft against him, and know of his all-encompassing strengthitude; for moments on end to be the girl, to be a girl... a pretty, young girl... and not a superhero... not a titan... It was sort of abandonment, deliverance, from responsibility, and concern; let someone else take the care, take concern, and for only the smallest price.

Little oblivion, all sweet and wretched with him; and the hands on her, and her dim awareness of his lips across her cheeks, tongue a cat-lapping the tears, and for knowing there was no need to cry. He held her by and under him, and was overcome by a number of needs all at the once; her pretty little tears of confirmation under the weights of her loneliness, should oh-so be cared for with affection, and he found to taste them delicious with his tongue. And to taste her; skin, soft and supple, rounded by youth- the jaded lovely of youth- all pale and delicate, well, to run his tongue over her cheek, perhaps a bit strange but all together fun, regardless. And she shivered- oh, delightful!- under him, and his touch, and there was the tenseness behind her eyes, the weariness, to be taken care of, too! To be sure!

His hands to cup her face and whisper, and wonder, and say, "I love you, I love you."

"I only love you..." a mantra, a promise, a thousand pictures strung together of the past, and Raven felt the curl of a smile all Cheshire to her lips, and he was there at them a gentle press, closed and simple, and for the pure side, only. Her melting whim against him, and her arms worked against her- for only she wanted to preserve her old self, even a little!- and went up around his shoulders, his neck, to press into the still-damp hair, so white and falling around her. A little place, just between them, and outside, the soundtrack of rain.

Oh, he shuddered to know her shape below him, as he had maneuvered, and to feel her strong and shapely curves, so splendidly of womanesque proportion, but so young! so soft! Malchior smiled, and felt the quiver of her nervousness strat all across her, up and down, and understood with an almost dark sort of fascination the power he held over her. A bit morbid, a bit sensual, and he let himself control the possession- her possession- because he knew... she only wanted to be owned, now. Only wanted to be loved beyond going back. Ever.

The mage pressed her down, and made her gently trapped, to forcify the kiss, and intrude on her mouth with a strength which became bruising; she had never kissed in this manner before, though sure to be honest, she had done relatively little kissing of any type with which to compare- and it sent a shocking quiver through her- the sensation! the touch! So, new, and she was alive with it! And Malchior was so dominant and for a moment she struggled under him, scared at what she had to do next, to participate- and honestly again, she did not have the clearest notion of what that was- but there he was, of guiding purpose, pinning her arms up at the wrist and kissing her with more force- the promise of pleasure, and of no effort on her part. 'Easy', the language said, 'I'll take care of it.'

'I'll take care of you', it said.

And she blushed furiously at his other hand guiding her clothing away with a spell, and a murmur of promisings from Malchior- little whispers of safety and ease, and gentleness with such a sweet, tender child. He did not embarrass her and stare at the pale laid out for him without the protection of clothing, but went to her lips and consoled her ebbing shame with a kiss of appreciation; a sweet reminder of his gentlemanly roots. But he went on, and oh, to touch at her, to let trail long fingers and palms across her neck and shoulders, and guide them down to her stomach and waist. To allow himself a simple pleasure in resting those hands on her breasts- too soft, pert and quivering with her- to only feel what tight cloth had alluded to. And her body was so the ripe for him- supple and beautiful, that it made a fevered sort of desire come at him- not entirely to be thought of as lust, but tainted heavily with the need to corral, and claim, and own. Raven's breath came in hushed pants, and a hot blush had made its home across her cheeks without any permission at all.

She shifted and curled under him, little arches with the gentle stretches of coldness; and she saw him mumbling above her, a slow drawl of lips, and hush of tongue, that in a moment resulted in the fade and removal of layer after layer of cloth from his body. Long, lean, stealthy; and she shyly smiled, and did not know if she could look or not, and furthermore determine if she wanted to look but there was the boldness again, the parts of Raven that assimilated and allowed for her gentler self, bubbling up to assert their claim in the territories of her soul and they commanded her in an almost surreal way to overcome that shyness immediately. She looked. And the blush that resulted certainly belied the force of character which had just tugged war across her mind.

And he was stretched over her, pale and thrumming with pent energy- a hushed kiss on her lips. "I only love you..."

She nodded and squirmed at the contact of flesh to her lower self, fingers trailing and exploring, just lightly, oh, so gently, and rather warm. A smile on his face, a coy, inviting gaze to the girl, a sort of grin; she smiled weakly, and was ashamed on one or two levels. But it seemed... trivial.

He pressed his lips to the heavy breath of the girl beneath him, and saw with some pride the half-lidded dilation of deep, azure blue eyes. Raven shivered and squirmed and he could see the look of confusion, and wonder, and the question on the tip of her tongue. He himself was pulsing, full and ready, and pent from a century or so's wait and want. He parted her legs, quivering and immediately locked against his sides for not knowing a better place for them- and to be sure, understanding that for now, there was no better place- and he felt her carefully, to be sure of a damp and ease, and slowly guided himself into the girl.

There was the gasp of surprised knowing- and his own jar of movement through a virginal membrane- and then the gasp of pain which Raven uttered protestingly, rising suddenly in an arch of soft agony to grasp at the mage's shoulders, and wrap herself up to him uselessly. Tears bit at her eyes, and the man felt the necessary guilt, though was aware of the situation's inevitability. Raven twitched on him, and gripped her knees to his sides unhappily, the hint of accusation in her fingers- so tightly wound into his hair. He held one hand at her hip, and steadied the aching girl, to reach and gently pet the crown of her head, softy, calmingly, apologetically. He whispered down at her ear, which the turns of a finger had revealed in a sweep of damp, purpled hair, and rubbed her cheek gently, "Are you all right?"

No sound but the squeak of pain's older vestiges, a nod, and then her voice- ragged for the overuse in hours before, and ragged now for shock, "Yes..."

"Good girl, Raven," he murmured with some strength of character- throbbing and ready, his member was greedy for its prize, but he held himself still, and protective around the girl. She bit her lip as the pains receded, leaving the dullest demandings of aches, and tried to relax against the pillows, though her hands remained needfully on his shoulders above. She took a deep breath, and nodded, and understood his thoughts through the cool, sympathetic blue of his eyes.

Slowly, gingerly, he allowed himself movement, the friction of the damp and the dry- and there was the blood's contribution- a bit more here, a bit more there for lubrication's sake. Gradually the girl came to gasp and breathe with little sighs and escaping squeaks- not perhaps the most mature or natural sounds, nor the most arousing by any stretch of the imagination, but she allowed herself past the embarrassment of being unused to the act, and tried very hard to relax and flow with the man above her.

It was not so hard, not so difficult to look up and see and feel him- to hold his gaze carefully, and feel herself slowly descend into new sensation. The pain seemed far away, and unreal, as though spirited away by the shadows- and it did seem like there were shadows, sort of ebbing and moving around them, voyeuristically, to engage themselves in delight. A cool, hushed feeling beheld at the room- illumination from the lightning outside, and cover for moans in the helpful, thundering clouds, aided by the tumult, the spray, and the white cacophony of rain, falling, beating, raging against the windows in a mix of approval and reproval. Raven was alarmed at the new and rather bizarre feelings of pleasure being moved through her body, and was terribly unsure of what to do with them, but began wanting, and needing, and she was soon arching and rocking against Malchior, whose eyes widened with a matter of delighted surprise.

He gasped, and groaned- how long had it been? and the sweat seemed to sheen across him with unadulterated excitement- and the girl, the girl- beautiful, wonton little girl, moving and trembling beneath and around him- God, and sensation! He arched over her, possessive and strong, and reiterated his command over her- more firm, more intense were his punctuations- more full and long and unGodly different- that he soon had her crying softly for an end she had never considered before. And- oh!- her little cries, little mewlings and tossing hair, that sent him reeling toward release, tumbling dangerously beyond control- oh, sweet, child!

Raven gasped and sniffed and felt her body tense and reel and roll of its own accord- felt herself grasp at his arms, balanced around her, and see only the shadows and whiteness, the swirling dark around her, and the blooming shock of release under his dilated, masterful blue eyes.

She felt him twitch and shudder and groan in her, and for a moment he panted above as though struck petrified over her. She tried to calm, and take her racing heart back from heady palpitations, and she felt light and airy, and could only see, for no more romantic reason than he was simply there- Malchior above, a painfully sweet expression on his sculpted features.

"Thank you," he choked out at last, as though also at a loss for words, thus belying his assumably impervious vocabularic cool, and she nodded, feeling the relax of her lower body and spine, and the remaining ache of a torn membrane inside. The man ran his hand down her pelvis, from the belly-button down, and she felt an unusual wash of fluid leak from her, and the mumble on his lips readily explained that it was a cleansing, which she realized suddenly was of the utmost importance, lest she find herself sooner heavy with child than with anything conceivably otherwise.

He rolled down with her, out of her, and wrapped her possessively in long, pale arms. His breath came quick in her hair and she could only curl closer to his self, forehead resting contentedly against his ribs, where the beat-beat-beat of his heart had already descended and simplified back down on earth for her to appreciate and envy. Thump thump thump.

His lips in her hair, fevered praisings and thank yous and the relative apologies... and his hands guiding her up, reaching her up to meet him in an embrace and a kiss that seemed to last... and last... until the lightning flashed opportunely, and highlighted the shadow creeping under the door to her room.

"Hey, Raven!" sniveling, irksome little voice, and the cough of a more mature voice nearby. Beast Boy coughed as well, and a step was heard.

"Raven, we're having dinner soon, and we want to know if we can, ah, invite you and... Malchior," said with only the lightest venom, the most subtle of abused and rejected tones; Malchior smirked and let his lips trace away from hers and down her neck lovingly.

"Absolutely!" she called, giggling in a rather unadulterated manner- she felt perhaps she had a right to, one didn't get more of an obvious chance to move on to a new stage of life than by the force of another person's love- and she even sat up to smooth her hair to continue, "I need to take a shower, and relax..."

There was the grumble of a younger titan after, a sort of snide unhappy remark which was un-intelligible, and the growl of the leader's tone soon after, which then and there sent Malchior and Raven into a fit of amused giggles, their foreheads together and tickled.

"Okay...!" (Robin's voice here... a sort of, descending tone, not mayhaps the most assured or pleased, to be certain.)

Raven knew, laughing quietly with her hand resting in the white of Malchior's hair, that things were going to very different from that moment on- probably for more reasons than BB becoming rather hostile (not to mention another, but Raven was quite oblivious to that little drama her leader experienced)- and she smiled, deciding that change was exactly what she wanted.

"I'll be out soon," she called, curling against the man she'd fought and won for, who held at her like a possession which he's named Love and placed in a lovely, gilded and open cage, and finished, smiling, "I'd just like to... for a moment... enjoy some peace."

FIN