AN- I didn't want to post this. I was perfectly content to let this story rot on my computer for eternity. I posted this on a dare! A user on this site (I won't say who) pressured me to do it. This is the first M-rated fic I have ever written. I'm not really a fan of 'em. Judging by the summary, I think you guys know what's coming. So...if fics with sexual content ain't yo thang, turn back now before it's too late!
"Let me feel how thy pulses beat."
The night is dark and stormy. A sonorous amplitude of rain patters steadily against the surface. The weather appears to be getting worse. Suddenly, a curvature of light, blinding in its momentary flash, streaks across the sky. It returns in periodic bursts, brightening the heavens above.
Violet eyes observe the spectacle from behind the safety of a thick glass window. The curtains, thick and heavy with fabric, have been parted to allow a clear view. The sight of the tempestuous storm affords her no comfort or peace of mind. She came here to gather her thoughts, to prepare herself for what she has set out to do. Instead, the nervousness that had been brewing within her grows stronger and more stultifying. She is at a loss. Her resolve is weakening by the second.
She moves, rising from her knees and leaving the window in a drawn out motion.
Light footfalls can be heard padding upon the linoleum floor as she carries herself quietly through the tower. She needs to conserve energy, so hovering is out of the question. She walks to her destination slowly and silently. Her features, previously blank and devoid of emotion, are now twisted in some sort of cross between sardonic amusement and despair. The corners of her mouth are prickling as a smile threatens to spread.
"Tonight is the night." Her voice is a docile whisper, barely audible over the thunder even to herself. She continues her careful and precise steps. "It's time."
She treads down long hallways harboring bare walls and tasteless carpentry. Her pace remains steady and deliberately cautious. She is still calm and in control, but her mind is screaming with doubt as she proceeds.
He is nowhere near her, nowhere to be seen. But she knows he's awake. The other occupants are definitely slumbering. It's always the two of them that remain to face the night. Insomniacs, that's what the both of them are.
Her breathing hitches and comes out in a few short gasps as she chuckles, a demented smirk making itself known upon her supple lips. She can't believe she's doing this. Then, she chastises herself. This is no laughing matter. She has to do this. She has to show him how much he has come to mean to her. He was there when she needed a friend the most. When the apocalypse was nigh and everything seemed lost, he had taught her how to hope. It was through his determination and leadership that the Titans achieved victory over Trigon. Free from her father's pernicious influence, she has been able to live her life in a way she never thought possible. She can finally allow herself to experience the emotions she had been suppressing throughout her existence. True, her powers are still influenced by how she feels, so there is always the danger of going haywire if she feels too much at once. But now that her father is gone, the threat of the slightest sensation triggering the end of the world no longer plagued her. With enough meditation, she could do anything she wanted.
And it was all thanks to Robin. Words couldn't describe how grateful she felt. Because of him, her soul was free to blossom and grow. People took for granted the happiness and laughter of each day, and didn't allow themselves to consider the sacredness of it. She never had the opportunity to feel such things before. Now that she could, Raven was determined to take advantage of it.
She knows how tense and aggravated the boy wonder is. She knows of all the work he takes on as leader of the team. She knows of all the papers he has to fill out, of all the research he has to conduct on criminals in the city. She also knows what he craves each night.
Robin has no designs on her. He didn't want a romantic relationship. No, what he wanted was simpler, typical of all men his age. She noticed the way he analyzed her, noticed the way he tensed up whenever she was in his presence. The anxiety radiating off him threatened to overwhelm and consume her.
Her dignity is a small impediment. She won't let anything stand in the way of what she has planned. All the necessary precautions have already been taken. She knows exactly what she's getting into.
She opens the door to his room, not even bothering to knock.
Of course, he's still awake. He doesn't seem alarmed that she just barged into his quarters without permission. He's at his desk, pouring over tedious paperwork.
No response to his greeting is forthcoming. She saunters towards him in a manner only the most confident can achieve without seeming pompous. She can smell him before she approaches, his masculine musk cutting through her like a crisp breeze on a winter morning.
"What is it?" Robin asks her. He appears weary and concerned.
And that's when she takes off her robe. She is wearing nothing underneath. No leotard, no lingerie...
She is bare and completely exposed. His gaze devours her. The roundness of her ass, the fullness of her breasts, the curve of her hips. The sight is enough to drive him into a frenzy. He takes it all in, soaking up every trace of her body.
It begins with a heated kiss, their lips enmeshing themselves together as if by magnetism. "This is my way of saying thanks," she reveals. He doesn't know what she's thanking him for, but Robin isn't the type to look a gift horse in the mouth. Things quickly escalate from there. She peels off his clothes in a rush, tossing them aside on the ground. The mask remains though, and he doesn't allow her to remove it. He touches her, ravishes her, makes her pant and moan. But his ministrations are quick and rushed. He is rapacious, giving nothing and taking everything.
A tumult of frighteningly loud thunder roars in the distance as they fuck.
She can feel his heartbeat increasing and his breaths becoming quick and uneven. She sways her hips in tandem with his thrusts. He is barren, utterly devoid of any feelings. He goes through the motions, pounding and thrashing and grunting.
But there is nothing in his actions and only sound from his voice.
He empties himself into her, the stress of all his responsibilities pouring out of him.
The experience leaves her feeling dirty, but she always finds herself coming back for more.
He smiles and jokes. He pretends that he doesn't have a care in the world. They're alone in the common room and he's acting like his typical self. He's chatting incessantly about the most mundane and trivial things. He talks about all the time he's spent playing video games and trying to beat Cyborg's highscore (He's lying to her. He hasn't even turned the Gamestation on in a week) and wouldn't it be great if she played a round with him to try to beat it together.
His facade is pristine, refined to fit perfectly over his heart. Her empathy can't pierce through it. She finds, however, that she doesn't even need to try. All facades have the same flaw. None of them conceal the eyes. Those innocent green orbs of his show her that his behavior is a farce. She can see everything in them. The hurt, the pain, the betrayal. She knows he knows. She knew the changeling better than he knew himself. She had been leading him on and giving him hope ever since she laid sight on him. Her heart belonged to Beast Boy, she knew. It was rebelling against her, begging her to stop this before she destroyed the poor boy.
But her body belonged to Robin, and the demon in her wouldn't have it any other way.
"Do you remember the day we first met?" He suddenly asks her. The question is random and odd. They've moved from the kitchen to the couch. He is seated beside her, but she hasn't noticed until now. She studies his countenance and it avails her very little. Only a smile is to be seen.
"What about it?" She feigns disinterest.
"After those alien dudes attacked the city and got their butts kicked, do you remember what ya said to me?" His smile turns into a grin. The fear it instills makes her nauseous.
"Yes..." She didn't like where this was going.
"You said I was funny." His voice is wistful and ruminating. It is tinged with an almost imperceptible bitterness. Azar, how many times did she wish she never said that to him? How many times did she wish she said it more often? "You were the first one who ever told me that."
He takes one of her hands in his. He fondles and caresses it, treating the appendage like a priceless jewel. "You were the first one, Raven. Even before Terra..."
If there is too much to carry and not enough strength to withstand, walls yield and crumble. Beast Boy was being demolished before her very eyes. "I always thought..."
Raven didn't want to hear any more. She extricated herself as speedily as she could, rising from the couch in a flurry of haste. She stood up so quickly that the room seemed to spin. It didn't even occur to her to teleport. She needed to run away from him, away from his heart breaking words and mirthless smile. She needed to show her back to him, to show him that she wasn't worth it. She would always hurt him. She had already caused him so much pain and anguish. What would be the point of letting him tell her these things now? She was a lost cause, and yet the innocent changeling kept pursuing her and trying to make her laugh.
Why would an angel like him even consider consorting with hell spawn? Must his soul be levied so weighty a toll? She didn't know the answers to these riddles. Instead of trying to solve them, she fled. She hated herself for it. She was such an ignoble and cowardly wretch.
She gave the impression of wandering aimlessly, but she knew exactly where her feet were taking her. This time, she's the one who needs to relieve some stress.
He used to watch her like a starving man craving sustenance. Now he looks at her like he's full.
"We need to end this. They're going to get hurt."
She knew, of course, what he meant. There was no need to ask him to explain. But something compelled her to hear her own doom spelled out.
"What are you talking about?"
Robin frowns at the question. He knows she's playing dumb. His characteristic sternness and determination comes to the fore. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."
She shrugs, dismissing his change of attitude. "It never stopped you before," she says.
Teeth gritting, jaw clenching...
He is becoming incensed. So, she tackles the problem the best way she knows how. Before the boy wonder utters another word, she captures him in a strong and vigorous kiss. He becomes immersed in it, the anger coursing through him diminishing. Gracing her mouth over the base of his neck, she notes with accomplishment his murmured sounds of ecstasy. He is already casting off her garments.
He surrenders so easily.
Perspiration, entanglement, movement- That's all it was to her, a mobile nihility. She might have thought that tonight was going to be special, but deep down in the very core of her being she knew that it would be no different. She felt the same hollowness as their bodies closed in on each other. He is erratic, a mess of haphazard motions. Appetence and lack of care define his every touch. The culmination of the activity assaults her with a disorienting amalgam of primal enjoyment and vitriolic self-loathing.
She knew then that there are many ways for a heart to break. Sometimes it's from too many things all at once, the compression of too many duties and undertakings. The heaviness of everything just crushes you until you can't breathe anymore. Sometimes it's from the cruelty of circumstance, of being led far from where you had thought you would end up.
Sometimes it happens from looking into the eyes of a lover, and seeing that there's nothing there. Your heart withers...because you gave him all that you had to offer and he gave you nothing in return.
Once again, all the pent-up aggravation of the day's affairs leaves him and comes flowing inside of her.
She is merely the dumpster of his refuse.
He's in her room and she can't find it in herself to be mad at him. Any other day, she would have raised hell, but seeing his crumpled and deflated form is enough to give her pause.
He's sitting on the edge of her bed, staring despondently at the palm of his right hand. A brown, copper coin is in his possession. It's a penny.
Her penny. The one he'd given her on that fateful day.
He is struggling for the appearance of composure and refusing to say a word until he attains it. The pain coming off him dulls, becoming a monotonous echo of its former self. The thought of him becoming habituated to such agony is so jarring and perverse she almost retches.
"I should've been the one to go after ya," he tells her. His tone is deep and sullen. She curses her father. Even in death, Trigon is still tormenting them. "But I was scared of failing you, Rae. I didn't want that to happen..."
Then, he asks her the question she's been dreading ever since this began: "Raven, are you happy?"
It takes her by surprise. She is woefully unprepared to answer that. He rises from the bed and comes over to her. "Cuz if you are, I'll just leave."
More than anything she has ever yearned for in life, she doesn't want him to go. So she grabs him by the scruff of his neck, brings him to within a centimeter of her face, and asks a question of her own: "Why do you care?"
Then, he closes the distance between them.
She can feel the soft pressure of his lips over hers and the light grasp of his hands on her waist. It's electrifying, explosive. The contact is like a detonation. Her thoughts are running rampant and losing coherency, but she doesn't care. A cascading waterfall of raw passion gushes itself out of him and bombards her. The bubble of emotion that had been trapped in her chest for so long finally bursts free, enveloping her in a snug embrace of pure joy. She had been denying herself this basic pleasure all her life. The pleasure of being loved, of being treated as more than just a tool. No one had ever showed her the kind of caring and reverence this beautiful boy was showing her now. She had been nothing but a portal to her father, nothing but a burden to her mother, and nothing but a stress receptacle to Robin.
But to Beast Boy, she was heaven. Just by being herself...
And it was enough for him. She could taste it in his kiss. See it in the way he looked at her. He would cry for her, bleed for her, die for her. He had been prepared to let her go, to let her trample all over his heart, if it meant bringing her happiness. She didn't know what she did to earn such devotion. As they continued, her lips parted, granting him access to her mouth. For Beast Boy, her affection was sheer bliss. It was like injecting a dose of liquid euphoria into his body. It rushed through his veins, intoxicating him. He didn't want anything else, couldn't fathom how the world could offer him anything greater than what he had in this moment. She could hear the beast howling in his soul and begging for more.
She didn't feel anything like this with Robin. Whenever she kissed him, it was like making out with a stone wall. Whenever she had sex with him, it felt like screwing a carcass. It was empty, vapid, and completely physical. Her relationship with the masked leader of the titans had brought her nothing but guilt and shame. It was born out of air, out of flimsy gratitude and lust. The gratification derived from it paled in comparison to the utter elation she was experiencing with Beast Boy.
A prickle of pain from her tongue jolts her out of her reverie. She had inadvertently cut it against one of the changeling's fangs, but decides to pay it no heed. She loops her arms over his shoulders and pushes trembling fingers into his emerald hair. As her pale digits are ruffling his scalp, his hands are prodding and exploring her. "Garfield," she moans against his mouth, and it sets him on edge. She can feel his arousal pressing against her and the question burning through his eyes.
She nods, giving him her assent.
He can hear them through the door to her room and a part of him feels crushed. However, deep down, he knows it's for the best.
Whatever twisted relationship they had was over. She found in Beast Boy what she had failed to find in him. He had no right to take that away from her. He refused to intrude upon their happiness. Doing so would lead to nothing more than further strain and tension between them. He had to accept it.
And so, rather than confronting the two, he walked away, the pain he felt disintegrating with each step he took.
Who was he to stand in the way of true love?
AN- It is not my intention to bash any pairing with this fic. I want to make that point crystal clear. Okay, so... I know I should've included Starfire in this. I wanted to. Really, I did. Every time I tried though, it just disrupted the flow of the story. I didn't want to detract too much from the interactions between Rae, Rob, and BB. I did not like how this story came out. Feel free to critique, but I'm my own worst critic. I know Raven came across as sort of a...you know... For that, I apologize. Also, I know Robin sort of came across as insensitive. I'm really sorry about that as well. Hope you enjoyed it anyway...