CHAPTER FIVE

Warm and Cold

Robin woke up to a harsh poking in his shoulder. His eyes blinked open blearily. As his vision adjusted a dull fear thumped in his stomach, but he was having trouble figuring out why it should be there. Warm, soft sheets pressed against his cool skin, and the bed he was on gave comfortably beneath his weight. Something smelled good off to his right, maybe food. An impossibly warm body was leaning against him, soft hair tickling his chest--

Robin sat up. He spun around just as Starfire was coming in for a kiss. She missed the side of his face, but made do with catching her lips on his collar bone. Her face, the husky nature of her eyes, seemed to make everything come violently into focus. The images and sensations from last night were swelling back up in his consciousness. “No!” he growled at her. His arms automatically came up to protect himself, and Robin realized that he wasn't chained against the bed. He pushed at her, and Starfire allowed herself to be cast aside. “God—” he started, putting his face in his hands. “Don't touch me. I'll—I won't let you do that again. You're not doing anything like that again.”

The sudden movement of shoving her off him had awoken a low pain in his arms and chest. He worked his shoulders a little, feeling the warm strain that blossomed around his arms' joints. How long had she kept him chained up last night? How hard had she been grabbing at him? Keeping his eyes firmly away from his body, refusing to see what she'd done to make it hurt, Robin slowly massaged beneath his shoulder for a few seconds to alleviate the pain.

Starfire settled back on her side of the bed, unfazed by his outburst, and folded her legs beneath her. A silver breakfast tray was beside her near the edge of the bed, heaped with fruits and what looked like a small dish of cream. Starfire reached for a red, kiwi-sized fruit and dipped it into the cream, then took a generous bite.

Robin watched her warily as she ate, studying every movement with an almost paranoid eye, readying himself in case she leaned in to come onto him again.

“You are adorable when you glare that way.” Starfire smiled at him condescendingly, as if she were talking to a pet rather than a person. “Almost as adorable as last night, when you were tugging on your chains as if you could get away. I very much enjoyed our interactions.”

“I didn't.” Robin tried to put as much venom as he could into his voice.

“Yes...” Starfire drawled off, reaching for another fruit. “Perhaps I was wrong about your fighting spirit. You were sobbing like a child...oh well. You are still very precious-looking.”

“And you're a bitch.”

Starfire stopped eating. Her pure green eyes looked at him inquisitively. “Bih-chh...what is this meaning, bitch?”

An unexpected but welcome smile tugged harshly at the corner of Robin's mouth. He didn't answer.

Starfire stared at him for a moment, but decided to let it go. “You smell a little unpleasantly,” she said finally, a slightly snobbish tone laced around her words. “And your hair is sticking up. Go to the bathing room, through the beaded curtain over there, and take a bath to cleanse yourself. If you do a good job and present yourself nicely I will let you have the remains of my meal.”

Robin almost shot back that he didn't want her food, much less would strip himself completely naked with her in the near vicinity. He wouldn't present himself for her that easily.

But having a bath—a warm, clean bath without her presence hovering over him, without her hands on him, touching him and caressing him—made him bite back his response. He felt and grimy and dirty from last night—in more ways than one. He could still feel all the things she'd done to him, all the sweat and saliva that had accumulated on his body.

“I, uh, I won't be long,” Robin said, hoping to squash any hopes she might have about wanting to join him. He slid off the bed, careful to avoid getting any closer to Starfire than he had to, and made his way to the bathroom. He was relieved that the beads were strung close enough together to be more or less opaque—he didn't want to give her any peep shows. He pushed through the curtain. The ends clacked against the floor as he entered the bathroom.

The bathroom was almost three times larger than the bedroom. The walls and floors were black marble, or something like marble, and ornate, golden fixtures decorated the walls. Red brocades hung from the ceiling and walls like clouds. In the center of the room, a bath was inlaid into the rich floor—almost five feet deep, with a steel-like grate for the floor.

“Decadent,” Robin muttered disgustedly. Not even Wayne Manor could compete the over-the-top, almost gratuitous, displays of wealth.

No, I guess it can't, since it's a pile of rubble back in Gotham. Bitterly, Robin headed for the bathtub. He stripped off his pants and tossed them carelessly off to the side, not even bothering to see where they landed. He cast one last look to make sure Starfire wasn't at the door, trying to spy on him, and got down, dropping into the tub. He examined the intricately cared, golden handles and turned one experimentally.

Hot water welled up through the grate, bubbling around his bare legs and almost scalding his skin. Robin almost vaulted out of the bath, but forced his feet to stay flat against the bottom as it filled, the water level stopping just beneath his shoulders. He lifted his feet off the bottom and paddled around the short distance of the bath to get used to the water. The activity was almost enjoyable—moving, being weightless. The warmth of the water relaxed his muscles and after a few brief laps Robin touched back down.

There was a collection of crystalline bottles sitting in neat little rows on a slightly elevated tray across from him, and a seat set into the bath under the water. It reminded him of the hot tub at Wayne Manor, without the mini bar. Robin pushed off from the wall and swam over to it, sitting down and looking over the bottles. Most of the liquids inside were pink, but there were a few green bottles that didn't make him cringe. Robin emptied a quarter-sized amount of the of green liquid into his palm, and sniffed it experimentally. It was definitely soap or shampoo—flowery and scented, but better than nothing. Robin scrubbed the stuff into his hair, digging into his scalp roughly, then used the lather for the rest of his body.

There was no point in trying to delay it any longer—he looked down to see how many bruises Starfire had given him last night. He was disturbed by how much purple he saw. They stood out clearly against his reddened skin—dark, ugly and mottled together on his skin. Most of them were located in between his biceps and triceps, evidence as to where Starfire had grabbed his arms to better hold him still last night.

Robin forced himself to look everywhere, trying to keep his examination medical and impersonal, as if he were examining someone else; the bruises on his hips, on his thighs, the way they wavered beneath the water...

He knew a little bit about female rape exams, especially after a particularly gruesome night in Gotham with Batman taking a rape victim to a hospital, but he’d never heard anything about determining male rape, or the signs to look for. He didn't see anything there, but he wasn't sure if that meant anything...

No, Robin told himself firmly. It didn’t happen. If it had happened, Starfire would have told him. Would have shared every detail with him... It didn't happen.

It could.

Robin sank fully back into the water to wash off. Whatever small comfort he'd derived from the solitude and cleansing water was gone now. He ducked beneath the surface, feeling the soap leave his hair and skin in tingling bubbles. He stood back up a few seconds later, feeling the water roll off him, and breathed through the steamy air.

“Mmm,” a voice said behind him. “How lovely your back is.”

Oh god no. Robin spun around in the water. Starfire was walking towards the bath, orange legs slinky as she moved toward him. Her bare feet didn't make a sound on the marble floor, and for a paranoid second Robin wondered if she'd been watching him long. No—he would have heard the beads—unless the sloshing water—

“I'm done,” Robin told her quickly, wiping his hair out of his eyes and reaching for the edge. “I—I was just about to get out—”

“No, no, there is no need for you to hurry,” Starfire reassured him in her silky voice. She smiled. “Just because I wish to bathe does not mean you have to exit the bath tub.”

Robin stared at her in horror. He looked around franticly for his pants, wondering if he could reach over and drag them into the tub. They were lying in a small, almost mocking heap at least three feet away from the bath's edge. Stupid—throwing them casually like that had been stupid—

Starfire was reaching for her approximation of an outfit. In one fluid movement she removed the straps containing her breasts, letting the two pieces of cloth fall to her waist. With another gentle motion her hands were on the bikini-like bottom of the outfit. She pulled it down, wiggling her round hips, and let it all drop to the floor. Robin stared at her. Taken in by her chest's roundness and her other forbidden features despite himself. The sultry look she was giving him seemed to match the steam wafting upwards from the water. He realized, a long moment later, that with a depression that pulled him out of his hypnotized staring, that this was the first time he'd seen a naked woman before. However he'd imagined it, if he'd ever imagined it at all...he'd never thought the circumstances would be like this. The initial shock of her body wore off, and he suddenly felt embarrassed and uncomfortable.

“You find me pleasing to look at?” Starfire asked. She kicked the outfit away with her small feet, and bent down, getting into the water gracefully with barely a ripple. Robin felt a flood of relief as her body disappeared from view. Oh god, she was in here, she was in here with him. “You find me attractive?”

“N-no,” Robin said. “I—I feel like getting out. Besides, you said that I needed to eat, so—”

Starfire splashed at the water idly, moving towards him. “I changed my mind. I wish for you to stay here.”

Robin sank a little lower in the water. Starfire just giggled. “You remind me of a pet I once had,” she said. “A little cir'o. He was very shy and easily frightened, and he always shrank away from me, just like you do.”

Suddenly, she dropped beneath the water. Robin backpedaled. He covered himself as quickly as he could, hands splaying below his waist protectively. A few seconds later Starfire rose out of the water, laughing at him as water cascaded down her face. Robin felt his face redden furiously.

“Shut up,” he growled at her.

“Remove your hands,” Starfire said, motioning at him and still giggling. “I wish to appraise my—”

“Shut up!”

Starfire frowned at him. In one slick movement through the water she was up against him, placing him against the wall of the bath tub, her hand snaking around the back of his neck. “Yes,” she murmured slowly. “You are very much like my pet.” Her hand drew around his face, and she traced his eyebrow with disconcerting gentleness. “He eventually grew to adore me, however. After much training with him, all I had to do was rub his belly and he would be like pudding in my hands.”

“...Putty,” Robin said.

“Hmm?” Starfire asked, pushing herself against him. Robin tried to ignore the two soft...things...she was pressing into his chest.

“Putty,” he continued, thinking quickly. “The phrase is 'putty in my hands.' It's...it's a metaphor...”

“Yes, metaphor...” Starfire's hand was disappearing under the water.

“You might want to work on those. I noticed...I noticed that your English isn't as polished as your sister's—I don't think she would have gotten that wrong.” He cringed at the fingers that raked down the inside of his thigh. Keep talking. Keep trying to distract her. “Has she been speaking English longer...?”

“Mmm, no,” Starfire said. “You see, we Tamaranians can learn language through...touch...language preferably through the mouth.” She pulled her hand away from his thigh. “But Blackfire is better at it than I am. She can understand the subtleties of the languages better, even the phrases and the idioms. She teases me about it often.”

Robin let out a shaky breath, more relieved than triumphant. He felt like collapsing and sinking to the bottom of the bathtub, but he kept talking as Starfire leaned against him.

“She's older, right? The way she acts—”

“She is only older by two years,” Starfire said firmly, and Robin detected a hint of...something...from her defensive reply. Sibling rivalry, maybe? “But,” Starfire conceded, “with her age, she can be rather...inconsiderate and cruel to me at times...”

The idea of Starfire finding someone else cruel was almost mind-boggling. “I can relate,” Robin said thickly. “So, if you can absorb languages—”

“If you are so interested in learning,” Starfire said, and her sneaky smile made Robin realize he'd played his hand too far, “then perhaps I can demonstrate—” She deposited her tongue into his mouth for the briefest of moments. Robin jerked, trying to free himself. Starfire pressed on, letting out an excited squeal. Her hand touched between his legs, and Robin's hand went for her shoulder, striking it as hard as he could. Starfire continued to touch him almost leisurely, barely registering his opposition. What she was doing didn't hurt—it felt...good, pleasurable.

That made it even worse.

“Let me go—let me go—” Robin pushed his back against the wall, trying to gain some leverage, tried to ignore the compulsion to stop struggling and give in to her attentions. It seemed easier, better, than the alternative. “Stop it—somewhere else, just touch me somewhere else—”

“But I like touching you here,” Starfire said coyly.

Robin hit her again. Starfire buckled slightly, but simply responded with a little more authority beneath the water.

How could it feel almost right if he didn't even want it? A sharp thrill of fear ran up his spine. He didn't want this—he didn't want her to make this—enjoyable—

“Stop struggling.” Starfire gave him a soft, assuring kiss. “You are not a warrior anymore. You are my lover now. Do not be afraid if it feels good.”

“It—does not—feel good,” Robin lied. Desperately, he said,“Look, I'll do whatever you want, okay? I'll do anything you ask me, and I won't complain or anything, just please—stop.”

Starfire regarded him. “Why are you so afraid?” she said. “On my planet Tamaranian males can only dream of this.”

“Dream of what?” Robin snapped at her. “Of you destroying their home and kidnapping them, and forcing them to serve your sick little fantasies?”

Starfire let him go. The action was so sudden Robin almost submerged without her to hold him up. He griped the side of the bath tightly. He wondered if he should make a dash for his pants or not. She'd see a little of him, but he didn't want to risk it.

“To serve the princess is an honor,” Starfire told him. She undoubtedly meant to sound regal and affronted, but it just came out sounding like a childish pout. “And to be granted such favor and pleasure by royal blood is more than just an honor, it is a privilege.” She spun away from him, grabbing the pool and hauling herself out. Robin turned, shielding his eyes.

“Dry yourself off and get dressed. If you do not wish to accept the wondrous gifts I have offered to bestow upon you, then you can work like a real slave. Soon you'll be trying to curry my favor and get back into my tender graces, you insolent human!”

Robin couldn't help it; he looked. The sight of the princess standing with her shoulders drawn up, her fists balled and her legs squared off as steam rose from her slightly darker body was almost like some kind of joke, or a satire. Her face was wrinkled with self-righteous anger, and she looked like she was two seconds away from stomping her foot on the marble floor. He would have laughed, if he didn't feel like his stomach was missing and his dignity compromised and ground into the dirt.

Starfire gave him one final glare and walked off, dripping not even attempting to dry herself herself off. Robin waited until she had stormed out of the room, and stayed out, before he climbed out of the bath and darted for his pants. He scanned the room for a towel and spotted a towel rack in the corner. Gripping his pants possessively he walked over to it, grabbing one of the three towels suspended from it and wrapping the surprisingly downy fabric around his waist. As soon as it was cinched he fell against the wall.

He was clean, the water was still dripping off his body, but he felt dirtier coming out of the tub than he'd felt going in.

To be continued