Chapter 17: Roanoke part - 1
Words 3,522
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Had the Justice League been more proactive with its defenses, or its members more observant enough in their surroundings, they would have also noticed two other uninvited guests making a quick exit.
Red Arrow, eldest and arguably the most insolent member of the Young Justice Team made off like a bandit in the night from where he lurked just outside the building's premises, taking with him all the information on the League's newest target straight back to his teammates.
Only the gods knew what these impertinent young heroes would do with such information.
The other was actually a League member herself, albeit one that had been recently ostracized for her "excessive" methods of dealing with criminals. The Huntress, a heroine with a vengeance streak a mile long, may have just found herself a kindred spirit in the form of Cadmus Othrys.
What that meant for Gotham, only time would tell.
You're happily ignorant of the veritable shitstorm forming with you right in the middle of it all. You have far more pressing matters to attend to.
First and foremost of which is plowing the woman underneath you until she's incapable of rational thought.
Time had melded together into a flash of images since the two of you had left the gala.
The city was nothing more than flitting colors as you had sped through its streets. Then you were outside your apartment.
And now here you are, both of you grabbing at each other as you stumble towards the bed, doing your best to get as close to one another between the layers of clothes that separate you.
You collapse onto the bed, pinning her beneath your form. You crash together in a mix of lips and clashing tongue, fighting and wrestling for an inch neither of you is willing to give.
Your hands trace the contours of her side, dancing across the flesh before slipping underneath the dress, swiftly finding their target.
Rose gasps, eyes fluttering for a moment. A low melodic moan escapes her as you slip a finger into her, hooking the digit, and sawing it out with languid movements. It comes out wetter each time.
Her hands twist their way into your hair, pulling rhythmically in tune with your movements. You bury your face into the crook of her neck, lavishing the area with fierce attention. She bucks up into you, chest pressed up invitingly to you.
You accept the invitation, grabbing at the low line of her dress and pulling with savage abandon. It gives way with a loud tear leaving nothing between you and your prize. Her legs come around your waist dragging you closer as your mouth comes down upon a pink nub, walls tightening around your finger with each slash of your tongue.
A rush of pride fills you at the sight of her, bruised lips parted and gasping for breath, eyes fluttering between consciousnesses, and once carefully braided hair, now frayed and loose.
Your length pulses in response, needily revolting against the confines of your slacks, demanding to be free. You oblige with all due fervor.
"I thought I told you to wear red," your murmur into the shell of her ear, leaving a puffy red nipple to the cool air.
She laughs breathlessly, plump lips curling to a self-assured smirk. "Like you care." A soft hand wraps around your still covered length. "it looks you're happy anyway."
"Minx," you growl, pulling her by the hips closer to you. She gasps out in pleasure as your hardness falls down on her stomach with a loud smack.
There're no words said between you as you both meet each in a soul-searing kiss, and you thrust into her, swallowing up her cry.
You groan at her tightness, clutching at you like a vice and refusing to let go. Her walls clench needily even as you lay there still, the entirety of your length buried in her depths. And then you begin anew, sending electric shocks of white pleasure through your body.
Her body undulates hypnotically with each movement, silk atop steel, breasts bouncing, and muscles flexing in a desperate and futile attempt to keep up with your pace.
She pants loudly, murmuring sweet nothing as you pull yourself onto your knees, driving yourself downwards with leverage. The bed shakes and groans in the complaint. Rose only cries, sobbing out loudly. "Don't you dare stop!"
"Nothing could make me," you reply. Well except maybe a meteor, or an undead assassin, but are the chances of that?
Her body suddenly tightens like a taut cord on a particularly deep thrust, and then, she comes with a shriek, body shaking and convulsing beneath you. It's almost painful how tight her depths are around. Your willpower snaps and low groan give in to the pleasure, burying yourself as deep as you can. Rose moans once more,m milking you of every drop of seed. Your grip on her falters at that moment as a wave of bonelessness overtakes you.
Maybe had things been different, had you been just a bit weaker, had you given her any leeway, it would have been her on top this time or at least fighting you every step of the way.
But, that had never been your dynamic with Rose. It was for her to give and for you to take, wholly and utterly. Of course, there are always exceptions to that rule.
Just as you go lax, her eyes snap up at you, and before you could react, she flips you onto your back. Hair a disheveled mess, and body covered in marks of your copulation, Rose looks beautiful. Maybe just maybe, this time you'll allow it.
"You didn't think it'd be that easy?" She huffs, rolling her hips around your quickly hardening length. "I'm not that kind of girl, Cadmus."
Your hands fall to her hips, content o let her control the flow for now. "No," you respond. "but you're mine."
She scoffs. "The only thing I want right now is this dick. You could have a paper bag on for all I care."
Anger, hot and burning, rises up at you at her defiance. A surprised gasp leaves her mouth when you suddenly reach up, seizing her fully in an embrace, noses pressing against one another. Gold and blue eyes bore into another.
"Say it," you growl, abruptly catching her in place.
She gives a mewl of protest in response, wiggling her hips. "Cadmus, what the fuck-"
You give her breast a rough squeeze, tweaking the already redeemed bud harshly. "The only thing I want to hear you say is you're mine."
Her head droops, hiding her features behind a curtain of white hair. She finally looks up at you through them, each word laced with defeat and naked need.
"Fine, you clingy fuck, I'm yours, I need this dick and I need you. Now fuck me until I can't stand straight tomorrow."
*
*
You wake up in your bed, a warm body pressed into your side, and an alarm blaring at Defcon 1 inside your head.
Precognition is a weird thing, sometimes it's a little buzz that just needles you away from danger. An instinct that acted without conscious thought.
And other times it's like this, a pounding headache like someone was driving a railroad spike through your cranium, just without the pain but all the pressure and intensity.
It also comes with visions. When you had first experienced it, it was like seeing the world through a thousand little broken shards of glass. Now, it's more like watching a really old stop-motion film, just a hundred of them at the exact same time.
All of them right now are showing a gaudily-dressed group of heroes about to burst through your door at any moment.
You peer down on your chest, vision obscured by a sheen of white hair.
A smile comes unbidden on your face at the sight of Rose's sleeping face, devoid of any of the ever-present fierceness that made her, well, Rose.
It's a shame to whoever is making you ruin such a peaceful moment because there's going to be hell to pay.
"There's someone outside." You whisper into the shell of her ear.
Much to your surprise, she doesn't jerk out of sleep, nor does she tense in preparation. All the acknowledgment she gives is a slight shake of her head in annoyance.
"I know idiot, like for the past five minutes." she grouses.
You squint at her through bleary eyes.
"And you didn't wake me up?"
A single blue peers up at you balefully.
"I'm already the brains between us both, and besides...I can't feel my legs. So, get up and deal with it before I get cranky."
You already aren't cranky? You have the mindfulness to not say that out loud.
"I don't want to either," you reply with equal reluctance burying yourself farther into the warm sheets.
"Boohoo, Mr. let's piledrive for an hour straight."
"You make it sound like you didn't enjoy it."
You don't react as a pillow collides solidly with your face. The things you do to make her happy, truly there are none as selfless as you.
"I'll take that as a yes, then."
"Just go deal with it," she waves at the door lackadaisically.
Your hand slips beneath the sheets, her body shivering as your fingertips graze the contours and curves lightly before it comes to rest on a full cheek.
She squeaks as you pinch the flesh tightly.
"Fine, but when I get back we're going for round two."
"Woohoo," she mutters sarcastically. "maybe I can feel my toes by then."
You throw on a towel, giving her a sympathetic smile. "Don't worry, you won't need to do much anyway."
The visions continue to speed through your mind the closer you get to the door.
So many possibilities, so many paths and branches to consider. An infinite set of results for every unique moment would drive any normal person mad to even try to comprehend it.
But with each step, the scope narrowed, and by the time you reach the door, there's only one possible future left.
You open the door calmly, coming face to face with an unfortunately familiar black-haired youth dressed up in a vaguely avian costume in gaudy green, yellow, and red, leg primed back to kick down your door.
He stops mid-kick, stumbling back in shock.
"Oh, it's you," You give your former wardmate a baleful look. "You know you could have just called."
Honestly, the audacity of these people. Do they have any idea how expensive doors are these days?
Then you finally notice the clown show he dragged in with him.
"And you brought guests."
You can't even tell what to address first.
Maybe the girl who looked like Ivy's long-lost cousin waving abashedly at you, with a rather rosy blush prominent on her cheeks. You vaguely remember grabbing a handful of her ass before launching her like a discus.
Or maybe it's the one with what looks like gills wielding water-whips, or the superman look-a-like with prominent S on his shirt who's glaring at you like you murdered his puppy.
Then there's the walking eye-sore dressed like a banana with little lightning bolts over his ears. Wait, isn't he the one from the library who shredded your homework?
And then-
Oh, you have got to be shitting me.
Bow and arrow. extremely long blonde ponytail, noticeably plump lips. vaguely Asian Features?
"Oh hi, Artemis."
"Hey Artemis, why does the suspected mass murderer know your name?" The walking banana whispers.
The girl in question blanches. "Shut it, Wally." she hisses.
Wally, a suitable name for someone who dresses like a banana, rears back in outrage.
"Oh great, now he knows my name! Wanna give him my address too?"
"I might just so you'd shut up!"
The gill-man intervenes, stepping bodily in between the two.
"Kid Flash, Artemis control yourselves."
"Please do," you smile pleasantly. "you're going to wake up the neighbors."
Robin has by then recovered from the shock of you suddenly appearing enough to get a word in as well. "You're coming with us."
"Uh uh, and this little circus crew of yours is going to make me?"
You repress a snort of disgust when he laughs. "We can do this the easy way or the hard way."
"I prefer the hard way," the Superman look-alike says, cracking his knuckles loudly.
You idly wonder if his bones would sound the same when they cracked.
"While that's a fun offer, how about you come inside, this is a handicap-accessible floor and you're blocking the entire hallway." You wave friendlily at Mrs. Grace who's waiting patiently behind the gill-man.
The costumed capes turn as if finally noticing the diminutive old woman.
She's such a sweetheart, even gives you cookies for Christmas. And for New Year, and for Easter. Damn, in hindsight, she gives you a lot of cookies.
Maybe you should check and make sure she doesn't have a Cadmus-sized oven in her loft.
"I've never seen you have friends over." Mrs. Grace notes. She's also a terrible gossip.
"Yeah, we're having...a costume party."
The old lady chortles giddily. "Oh back in my day, we'd have costume parties too," she studies the capes for a second before grinning in a way that grandmothers should not be allowed to. "but with a lot fewer clothes."
The unfortunate part of having perfect recall means that the forbidden images your mind conjures up at her words will never be forgotten.
"Haha, thanks, Mrs. Grace," you offer weakly, feeling slightly queasy. "have a good day."
"You too, Cadmus, don't forget to stop by a pick up your Christmas cookies." She offers before closing the door behind her.
"I want Christmas cookies," you hear Wally mutter.
The lot of you stare at each other awkwardly before you step back and allow them in, which they accept with clear reluctance, shuffling in like chastised preschoolers.
"Take a seat," you gesture to the living room. "I only have one rule here. If you break something of mine, I break something of yours."
"Uh, isn't the phrase if you break something, you have to pay for it?" The Martian asks hesitantly.
You wave off the question, making your way into the kitchen.
"Po-ta-to, po-tah-to. Now, do any of you want anything to drink? Maybe eat? I know crimefighting makes one peckish."
Now, of course, you didn't need to be so pleasant to them, after all they're ones who barged into your home, but it's the principle of the thing.
You get a chorus of denial, except for one exuberant acceptance of your offer. "Yes, please!"
Of course, it's the speedster.
Throwing together plates laden high with fruit and drinks, you return to your uninvited guests, all sitting awkwardly like they expect for the couches to come to life and eat them whole, except for the superman cosplayer who remains standing.
"So what occasion brings the Justice League's sidekicks to my doorstep?"
"We are not sidekicks," All of them deny with various degrees of rancor, ranging from irritated to crumpling a soda can with extreme prejudice.
"Take a seat," you gesture to the living room. "I only have one rule here. If you break something of mine, I break something of yours."
"Uh, isn't the phrase if you break something, you have to pay for it?" The Martian asks hesitantly.
You wave off the question, making your way into the kitchen.
"Po-ta-to, po-tah-to. Now, do any of you want anything to drink? Maybe eat? I know crimefighting makes one peckish."
Now, of course, you didn't need to be so pleasant to them, after all they're ones who barged into your home, but it's the principle of the thing.
You get a chorus of denial, except for one exuberant acceptance of your offer. "Yes, please!"
Of course, it's the speedster.
Throwing together plates laden high with fruit and drinks, you return to your uninvited guests, all sitting awkwardly like they expect for the couches to come to life and eat them whole, except for the superman cosplayer who remains standing.
"So what occasion brings the Justice League's sidekicks to my doorstep?"
"We are not sidekicks," All of them deny with various degrees of rancor, ranging from irritated to crumpling a soda can with extreme prejudice.
"You're cleaning that stain," you say with forced calmness. Honestly, the fucking audacity of these two-chromosome rip-offs, ransacking your home like rabies-infested raccoons.
They're lucky that you'd just gotten your rocks off and are in a forgiving mood.
"Enough of this-" the Superman look-alike begins loudly before you shush him loudly.
"My girlfriend's asleep in the other room, so keep your voice down. She's way worse than I am."
"Apologies," The one with gills intervenes again, marking him out as the peacemaker of the group. "but we have urgent matters to discuss with you."
You cock an eyebrow. "Is that so? Then fire away?"
Robin fidgets in his seat for snapping up straight, fixing you with a glare.
"Did you kill the Penguin?"
At least they're straight to the point, but you do wonder what exactly their plan is here. What if you just said no? Would they try to force a confession out of you?
They could try, but it wouldn't end well. For them.
But, why would you lie? You have no reason to. You don't feel shame for what you did, not even pride really. It's simply done, a page of dried ink left long behind.
Even if it only happened a month before, it still felt like an eternity.
"So, let me get this straight," you begin. "you believe me to be behind Penguin and all his goon's deaths, so you come barging into my home ready to bring me to justice?" you ask rhetorically.
You get a couple of hesitant nods and far more uncertain looks from that.
"And now you're sitting in my living room, eating and drinking like we're friends?"
"In fairness, you don't seem like a mass murderer, to me at least." Kid Flash says while macking his fingers.
"Thank you for the compliment."
"Just answer the question," Robin demands.
"Robin, you need to calm down." The Martian counsels, as though acutely aware of Dick's mental state.
"No, it's fine, really it is. But, do you think that's smart, Dick? After what you have suspected of what I've done? To test the person who reduced Oswald Cobblepot and his empire to dust in the course of a single night? It's kind of a dick move to drag your teammates into that kind of a mess."
Maybe...you're just a little proud of what you did.
Your words hang heavy over the room like Death itself has taken a seat beside you. Time stands still, the tick-tock of the clock and the cadence of your heartbeat filling the silence.
Realization enters his eyes as the last piece of the puzzle was finally put into place.
"That...that was never said in the press," Dick says shakily. His left hand fumbles in his pant's pocket fiddling with an object through the fabric.
A transmitter no doubt, emitting a distress beacon reaching as far as the Watchtower. You aren't supposed to know of its existence, and Bruce had done his damn-hardest to ensure you didn't learn anything that could be used against him. Unfortunately for him, he couldn't be everywhere at once. But, you could. It was just relative.
The clock ticks ominously in the back of your mind. You had perhaps two minutes before The Man of Steel tore through those walls. Even you aren't foolish enough to think you could take on the Kryptonian, and you didn't have the slightest inclination to test your powers against his own.
No, Batman is too territorial, too proud to call upon the League's aid in his own stomping grounds, it would make him look weak. It would make him look human. And you know Dick well enough to realize he would never go over his foster father's head like that.
The League is not coming, no Superman, no Wonder Woman, and no Manhunter to the rescue. They're alone, with you, and the only person who knows where they are is some Gothamite billionaire playing hero deep in the caves below.
You can't help the smile that slowly grows across your face. The charade was up. The Butcher of Gotham had been found. Now, all that was left was to watch the curtains rise.
"The ball's in your court Dick, what are you going to do now?"
The heroes didn't exactly react well to your words.
The clock ticks loudly at the forefront of your thoughts. The stop motion film plays at a breakneck speed. Arrows, whips of water, crushing strength tearing gouts in the wall, and the occasional Batarang all make a frequent appearance.
They're going to attack. The poor fucks.
You rise out of your seat, slowly angling yourself away from being flanked.
"Now, before you do something you're going to regret, just consider-"
"Miss Martian, now!"
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DevionKing
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