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.
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."
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.
One of the boots topples off despite Bruce's attempts to stay still. He's starting to feel pleasantly warm, and looks at Bane smugly to see what he'll do about that boot.
He cries out, but it's not exactly out of pain. He has the sudden notion that he's begun to sound like (a quieter) Tony Stark would under a caning. Which gets him to laugh shortly, because he never expected that.
It's not exactly defiance, either, that brings him to break the cane with one deft stroke. He just really wants to forced Bane to be closer.
"I had not anticipated the glee with which you would embrace your own conquering. The relief in your every twist and twitch. You belong like this."
He murmurs, leaning down over him.
"You fight because you feel you have the responsibility to, you are too self-disciplined not to fight for all you are worth. But is it not a relief to remain caught? Held, in a way he never could quite manage?"
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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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"I think we won't be giving them any pictures of me from the back."
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"Or perhaps I'll take hundreds of pictures."
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"For your private collection."
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Swish, and it comes down again.
"The flush on your cheeks after an orgasm, the hot sling of come against bruised skin."
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He forces it to meld halfway into a sound of protest.
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He twirls the cane idly between his fingers, stings him with just the tip.
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"I think you just like the thought of showing me off."
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Another stinging swipe, then he rewards him with three hard thwacks with the thing, jarring and deep.
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Slipping forwards, tip of the cane going under his chin, tilting his head all the way back.
"Look at what you've done."
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He orders him, voice raising into authority and volume, lifting his hand away, bringing the cane down across his shoulders.
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It's not exactly defiance, either, that brings him to break the cane with one deft stroke. He just really wants to forced Bane to be closer.
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Then Bane has him on the mat by the shoulder, on his back. The broken end drags a splintery scrape up his side.
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His legs wrap around Bane.
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Flipping the thing so he can drive the blunt end into muscle.
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"Thought you knew I'd be like this. Keep going-"
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He murmurs, leaning down over him.
"You fight because you feel you have the responsibility to, you are too self-disciplined not to fight for all you are worth. But is it not a relief to remain caught? Held, in a way he never could quite manage?"
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"You aren't like him, or I wouldn't take this."
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