As strong as Bane is, Bruce still remembers physics and leverage, and he throws a leg over Bane's shoulder and forces his whole weight against his chest to throw them both to the ground.
It does a fantastic job of derailing Bruce, and he squirms around to straddle Bane. He has no idea what the new boundaries are, but this is one way to find out.
He knows how to strangle, though this isn't the most effective way he knows. He squeezes, just watching to see whatever it was that Bane had so enjoyed when it was Bruce on his back. But his sadism runs toward criminals, not those he's beginning to actually like, so he lets go and catalogues scars slowly.
There's a touch of obedience today that has never been so much as hinted at before. He's alert, eager, in ways he typically only experiences when he's getting a new toy from Fox.
He looks up at him, centering himself on the idea that Bane isn't going to do permanent damage. And then, slowly, he lowers himself onto his hands as well.
He purrs, pleased with him, moving to strip off his own shirt. He tosses it over Bruce's back, informal, using him as a rack, then starts unlacing his boots.
The boots join the shirt, perched flat on Bruce's back as Bane rises, carelessly, walking away from him and leaving him relegated to furniture. He deliberately moves behind him, where Bruce can't see, only hear him searching about.
He's had several instructors over the years who taught him to walk with a glass of water balanced on his head, or his shoulders. Ninja things.
But he's never been turned into a footrest before. This isn't a test of his endurance or stealth, and it certainly doesn't hurt or bring pleasure, so he's waiting on something bigger.
He's determined not to drop the boots, and he's acrobatic and agile when he needs to be. It's too big a risk to turn his head just to look at what Bane is doing.
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"Goodness."
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"Bruce."
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He borrows a page from Bane's book and wraps his hands around the bigger man's throat.
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Good for the goose, good for the gander.
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"What's the lesson for today?"
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He whispers to him, eyes closing.
"Slide off me. Get on your knees."
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He orders, reaching out, rubbing at his hair, voice warm with approval.
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He purrs, pleased with him, moving to strip off his own shirt. He tosses it over Bruce's back, informal, using him as a rack, then starts unlacing his boots.
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But he's never been turned into a footrest before. This isn't a test of his endurance or stealth, and it certainly doesn't hurt or bring pleasure, so he's waiting on something bigger.
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He asks quietly, right behind him, low and taunting.
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That's how it's doing.
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"You aren't in a position to make such demands."
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"What demands are you going to make?"
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The wood knocks his thighs apart.
"-I'll merely enjoy your humiliation."
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The wood is a cane, it turns out. It's more easy to tell when Bane crouches next to him and holds it flat against the backs of his thighs.
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