Disclaimer: Don't own 'em, don't make money off 'em, and all is right with the world.
A/N: This is my first entry for the 30 Lemon Community on Livejournal. As the title of the community implies, there will be 30 of them. I posted this through livejournal about a month ago. I'm working on the next entry. But here's this one.
I could use all the feedback on this one I can get, folks. ((looks around shyly)) This is...well...((blushes))...this is my first time, you know. My first full out lemon. I've skirted around the issue before a couple times, but I have never taken it to this depth of development, so like I said, I could use as much feedback as possible.
Chapter 1: Touch Me
Theme # 2: The Audience
"Touch me/ remind me who I am."
- Touch Me, Stanley Kunitz
"Go on, out with it."
Raven didn't look at him, she didn't even seem to be breathing. It appeared, for all intents and purposes, as if she were trying to still herself into not being there. "You are a lot sicker than I gave you credit for," she answered monotonously as if she were saying nothing more than that it was Tuesday.
He chuckled, but under his breath and just loud enough for Raven, sitting right next to him, to hear. "Well, you did lose the bet, didn't you?" he reminded her, glancing momentarily at where her sight was fixed.
"And I'm here...now leave me alone so that I can get through with this and forget it."
Robin tsked teasingly. "I never would have pegged you for being so ultra-sensitive."
She scoffed, but didn't look at him.
"Okay, so not sensitive..." he pretended to think about it, "...prudish, maybe?"
She almost looked at him, he could tell, there was that instinctual shift before her head would have turned to glare at him, but she caught herself just in time and didn't move more than that half an inch.
"Not prudish, okay..." Robin allowed, drawing nearer to her in order to be able to lower his voice and still be heard...his concession to the approach of a new couple in the aisle in front of them.
Although Raven didn't look away the spot she had been staring at for the past ten minutes, she did acknowledge the arrival of the new couple who although they had seated themselves at a discreet distance from them were still somewhat close: she squirmed...just slightly. Not enough for anyone to notice in the near darkness, but enough for him, so close to her, to realize.
He knew that he was close...so very close to getting that reaction from her that he had anticipated since coming up with the bet in the first place. All he had to do was push her over. Too hard, however, and she would get up and leave, bet and honor or no bet and honor. "You are staring rather intently," Robin whispered, so close to her ear he could feel the warmth from off her skin, "Maybe you're looking forward to it?"
He saw it as she swallowed and grinned, knowing that she was trying to think of what to reply. He knew he had been right about this.
"Who would've guessed you were such a pervert?" she asked, also on a whisper.
He chuckled again, inhaling the scent of her. If nothing else, he thought, at least he would have the memory of this. He could hear it in her voice, however...there was a small part of her that was enjoying this. And even if she never wanted to do it again, she would certainly never forget it. "I'm only trying to educate you, Raven," he whispered, watching as her skin reacted to the warmth of his breath.
"Hah," she murmured. "Educate me?" she asked, leaning a little closer...maybe subconsciously.
"Mm," he answered in the affirmative. He was so close now, he could lean just that last bit and touch her, but that was part of the game...the rules she had set out and how far he could push her while still following them..."You said you'd never been to one of these, right?"
"I've also never been bitten by a snake," she answered, "Would you like to educate me in that as well?"
She was looking at him out of the corner of her eyes now, and she was very aware of his nearness, her skin betraying her nonchalance. "There's no poison here," he answered certainly. "Just a little forbidden fruit."
She had been so involved in their conversation that even though she was still staring forward, she had jumped, just a little, when the screen came to life.
"You'll see it's not so bad..." he told her, his voice still clear and almost soothing even despite the sound of the opening credits. "It's actually kind of funny sometimes..."
She exhaled, "It's not the movie that worries me," she replied, her voice so low and her lips barely moving.
"No?" he asked, clearly disbelievingly.
Finally, her eyes moved, piercing the semi-darkness, roaming over the indiscernible blobs of shadow in the rows of shadow as if she could see them despite the darkness, "It's the audience."
"I'll protect you," he vowed seriously.
She finally did turn to him, not having to turn even three fourths of the way to look at him since he was so close to her and in her eyes there was endless depths of shadow too, "You?" she asked, meeting his eyes, "You're part of the problem."
His reply was cut off by the staccato vocalization of the actress on the screen and his eyes, like hers, momentarily drifted to it. But then she moved, another movement that had anyone else performed it might have been termed a squirming, but with Raven could be nothing more base than a shifting.
The images on the screen did nothing for him...they never had...he could see through the falsity of it and had never been excited by it, but ever since the conversation had almost innocently come up between them during a chess game and she had admitted to never having seen one of these movies, the idea had formed and refused to leave him.
How would Raven-the so called Ice Queen-react to watching a 'dirty' film?
He had never really thought that the movie itself would turn her on, but he had allowed himself to consider the possibility that maybe watching it with him might stimulate her in some way. It had even occurred to him that perhaps the watching it in public would trigger some other aspect of her pent up sexual appetites, but he had failed to consider that what the other members of the audience were doing might have some effect on her as well.
He watched as her head remained fixed forward, but her eyes, even in the semi-darkness, he could see her eyes flitter from the screen to the undulating dark masses around them. It was too dark to be able to see clearly what any of the couples were doing, even the couple closest to them: the late comers, but he was certain that the sounds and the visuals of the movie itself were enough to fuel her imagination into what they might be doing.
Her breathing hitched just a little and she seemed more uncomfortable, less able to sit still.
"What's the matter, Raven?" he asked innocently, so close his lips brushed, ghostlike, against her skin.
She shifted a little again and winced almost imperceptibly at something only she could feel but he could damn well guess at. "Nothing," she answered, her voice tight.
He reached a hand to her and her eyes closed as if she were expecting him to strike her. He froze inches from her arm and she exhaled, as if she had stopped breathing for a few moments. She was rigid, pressed against the back of the chair, her muscles tight and her hands clutching at the arm of the chair so tightly he was sure if he could see them in the dark, her knuckles would be white.
Moaning and breathless cries came from the screen, echoing in the surprisingly excellent sound system around them and Raven inhaled sharply, opening her eyes as if she had seen something that shocked her even through her closed eyes. "Don't touch me," she said, her voice breathless and almost pleading, scared.
The sound of it nearly undid him. What was she afraid of? It looked as if she were fighting off some internal demons and he couldn't believe that she was so afraid of feeling turned on that she would fight it so much that it looked as if she were actually in pain.
"Why are you so afraid?" he whispered, his breath warming the inside of her ear and her eyes closed again, tightly, as if she were in pain. Something wasn't right, he realized, she wasn't reacting the way he thought she would.
Her breath came in short gasps, as if she were finding it hard to breathe and although he was worried, the sight of her, fighting for control, small beads of sweat forming on her brow, her lips red, slightly wet, and swollen from where she had been biting down on them brought other thoughts to him. She looked as if she were in the throws of passion. Logically, it didn't make sense. "Raven," he whispered and she reacted to his voice as if he had touched some intimate part of her and seeing it, he had to swallow hard before he could continue, "Is something bringing you pain?"
"Yes," she gasped.
He reached out for her and Raven's eyes shot open and stared at him. There, in her eyes, was a look that utterly confused him: there was fear there, the kind of fear he had seen in her eyes only when she lost control of her powers because of the dark magic Malchior had taught her and she had almost killed the little girl inside Cardiac, but what was even more confusing was that unmistakably, there was pleasure in her eyes too. They were unfocused, but they saw him. They were frightened, but they wanted release.
He reached out a hand, uncertain, wanting to comfort or ease her pain, but not knowing how, but he didn't touch her...he couldn't. That had been her rule. And he had to abide by it unless and until she gave the okay to break it.
She closed her eyes and gasped, her breath ragged, but it wasn't until she let slip a moan at the same time as their closest neighbor did that he finally, finally, understood.
He neared her, "Raven," he spoke but his voice made her react as if he had touched her and although he was worried for her, sorry he had put her in such a position, he couldn't help but feel his pulse hitch in response. He had never thought to see Raven in such a state and he hated that part of him was glad to watch her...very glad.
"What can I do?" he spoke again, whispered against her ear. "Raven?"
At the sound of her name, her voice broke on a barely withheld, "Ah," and she looked as if she were in such pain that he thought of picking her up and carrying her out, but before he could move or form the requisite intent to begin to move, she reached out and clenched his wrist.
The moment their flesh touched, she cried out, her voice drowned out by the sound system of the theater as the woman in the movie seemed to echo her. The wave of pleasure washed over him like a flood, pushing him to the brink of his control and nearly drowning him. He gasped as the pure pleasure ebbed and he could think, could hear, was present again, but her hand on his wrist was hot as if it would burn, and yet he wouldn't even consider pulling away.
"Robin..." she gasped, her nails digging into his flesh, "I can't hold it off much longer..." she spoke between gasps, "Fight me..."
He realized, somewhere in the small part of his brain that was still functioning, that she had used considerable force of will to block him from the feelings, that she was asking him to help her control them, but he suddenly didn't want to. "No," he replied, breathless.
She inhaled as if she had been lacking air. "Please..." and there were tears in her voice.
He could feel the emotions leaking off her like fog through a crack in the door, he could feel the embarrassment and the fear, but he could also feel the pleasure. The need. And he wouldn't deny her.
"Let me in," he told her. "Share it with me," he whispered in her ear. "Give in to it."
She shook her head and closed her eyes, "No," she was almost crying now, "No..."
He could feel her fighting with herself and it was painful. He knew that the only way to get over the pain was to ride the pleasure, and he knew it because she knew it, and although he understood why she was fighting it, he couldn't stand to see her go through it. He wanted her to know that he wanted to help her. He wanted her to know that she shouldn't feel as if he wasn't under control, as if he weren't himself when asking her what he could do. He wanted her to know that he wanted her. He leaned close to her, inhaling deeply of her scent which seemed to only be amplified somehow. She smelled of vanilla and lavender, and sex. That heady, musky scent that could be so many different things and yet only one. "I want to help you, Raven," he told her, his voice tight.
Somewhere a few rows below them, soft panting and moaning could be heard, echoing the much more vocal cries on the screen and Raven flinched as if she'd been hit, her head falling back as if it were too heavy for her to hold anymore. Robin could feel the faintest edge of the pleasure she was fighting off, and it was driving him insane. Her chest was heaving, her pert breasts straining against the t-shirt she was wearing, bringing the hard little nubs in their center into sharp focus. She arched her back and her nipples were so close all he had to do was shift the smallest amount and he would be touching them. But that was against the rules and he didn't want to do anything that she would regret later, so he bit down onto his lip and clutched onto the armrest, her hand tightening around his wrist and tried to stop himself from getting any more aroused.
"Let me help you, Raven..." he whispered close to her, "Let me touch you."
Raven for her part, felt as if she were awash in a flood of pleasure, out of control and unable to hold on to any of it enough to bring herself relief. She could feel the waves of pleasure coming off the people surrounding her as if she were feeling it herself; this ones hands on her breast, that one's silky smoothness against her lips, and the warm wetness at her most intimate of places and all at once. It was torture. The movie itself did nothing for her, but the reaction of so many people around her feeling and needing and wanting and with absolutely no restraint on their emotions had torn down her walls as if they were made of paper.
She tried to push it back, tried to ignore the sensations the other people around her were feeling, but it was like trying to push back a tsunami. And Robin...Robin's feelings came to her in the undercurrent, ebbing and flowing around her like a lapping tide. He was so ready. He wanted so much. He wanted her. And yet he was trying to hold back. She wouldn't stop him no matter what he did at this point, so long as it brought her relief...with so many different people in different states of arousal, she couldn't find satisfaction. It was like constantly reaching the brink, only to be pulled back before glorious release to start it all over again.
She was going insane.
"Raven..." Robin's voice in her ear, Robin's promise of release. And she knew that they would probably regret it later, knew that he was feeling the backwash of her own emotions, knew they would be lucky if their friendship could survive this, but she knew too that only the real touch of someone else's skin against her skin would be enough to help her focus...only Robin could bring her release now and she was in a state where she didn't care what other consequences that might bring.
"Yes..." she breathed. "Please..." she whispered.
"Please what?" he pressed, "You have to say it, Raven."
Her eyes opened and immediately locked on his, "Touch me."
He didn't need another invitation.
A/N: From this point on, the heat factor kinda grows more...um...heated. So, I'm linking you to where you can find the remaining 4 pages of this one-shot. So...go here to find it, k?
http(:) (/)(/) community . livejournal . com / 30 (underscore) lemons / 135710 . html (REMOVE THE SPACES AND THE PARANTHESIS!)