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?"
He asks, softly, looking him in the eye, holding him like that. He doesn't let him speak yet, knows the denial will be instantaneous, but rather wants him to think about it.
He lies still in Bane's arms, absorbing pain and something stable.
"Bats."
It comes in a rasp, with a smile. And it's true, but there's also the fear of failure, which he developed after Rachel died. So Ra's never touched either phobia.
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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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He answers, breathing in deeply. He can't even really smell him.
The frustrated growl echoes through him, head to toe.
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Mouth trailing over Bane's neck.
"I owe you for yesterday."
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He tells him, sly and quiet.
"I have abstained this long, I shall wait a few weeks longer."
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For all Bane knows, Bruce is just teasing.
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He pushes Bruce's hair back, and then presses a fingernail against the thin skin of his ear where it stretches taught over skull.
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"Keep talking."
A soft request.
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Hand over his face now. He does love that jaw joint.
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Really afraid of. But that joint makes Bruce cry out so there's no time to finish the sentence.
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He asks, softly, looking him in the eye, holding him like that. He doesn't let him speak yet, knows the denial will be instantaneous, but rather wants him to think about it.
"I'll teach you to face it."
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"Bats."
It comes in a rasp, with a smile. And it's true, but there's also the fear of failure, which he developed after Rachel died. So Ra's never touched either phobia.
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He murmurs, forehead creasing down at him.
"Fearsome in flight, I suppose."
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He's well aware that it's ridiculous. It was absurd even when he was a child.
"So I became Batman."
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He decides, shifting them, sitting back, dragging Bruce up.
"You'll like them once they're in your lap."
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"And what's your fear?"
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Which he survived.
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