horrendousness

[onapalehorse]

From this.

"You will find strength, and peace."

He promises, with belief.

Comments

[lasiurus]

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.

[onapalehorse]

Like that, he can rake his nails down Bruce's sides, stinging and forceful and unkind.

"Bruce."

[lasiurus]

He doesn't want to hit Bane; he's not angry in the least. Or rather, his anger isn't directed at Bane at all today.

He borrows a page from Bane's book and wraps his hands around the bigger man's throat.

[onapalehorse]

He freezes for a moment, but allows it, tilting back for him.

Good for the goose, good for the gander.

[lasiurus]

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.

"What's the lesson for today?"

[onapalehorse]

"The joy you will come to take in every aspect of this. Even the pain."

He whispers to him, eyes closing.

"Slide off me. Get on your knees."

[lasiurus]

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.

[onapalehorse]

"And your hands. Brace your back flat."

He orders, reaching out, rubbing at his hair, voice warm with approval.

[lasiurus]

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.

[onapalehorse]

"Thank you, that's exactly right."

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.

[lasiurus]

Bruce looks up at him, amused but bewildered, but he keeps his hands braced firmly on the mat.

[onapalehorse]

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.

[lasiurus]

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.

[onapalehorse]

"How's that pride doing?"

He asks quietly, right behind him, low and taunting.

[lasiurus]

"Shut up."

That's how it's doing.

[onapalehorse]

The edge of something wooden presses hard into the back of one thigh, to make the position more difficult to hold.

"You aren't in a position to make such demands."

[lasiurus]

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.

"What demands are you going to make?"

[onapalehorse]

"Today? Or before the end? With time, you will be ready to turn yourself inside and out for me. Today-"

The wood knocks his thighs apart.

"-I'll merely enjoy your humiliation."

[lasiurus]

He grits his teeth and stares at the wall, deliberately holding himself tense so that he won't be able to react to anything.

[onapalehorse]

"Do you think that will help you?"

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.

[lasiurus]

He's been caned before, as punishment for theft. He holds Bane's gaze a while, but there isn't the anger he's had every other time they've worked together.

"I think we won't be giving them any pictures of me from the back."

[onapalehorse]

He huffs a laugh, and brings it down on his thighs. Thwack.

"Or perhaps I'll take hundreds of pictures."

[lasiurus]

He grunts with the first blow, but manages to keep the boots steady.

"For your private collection."

[onapalehorse]

"To plaster on billboards. Send to Fox, send to Banner and Stark."

Swish, and it comes down again.

"The flush on your cheeks after an orgasm, the hot sling of come against bruised skin."

[lasiurus]

He is in no place to identify why the idea of it hits so right. He's an intensely private person, he would never hope for any of his friends to know such intimate things. But hearing Bane threaten it as he brings the cane down earns a groan of approval.

He forces it to meld halfway into a sound of protest.