A/N: Last NSFW chapter for a whole, so do enjoy. Apologies for my tardiness. As you might have guessed, summer and I are not very… Agreeable.
A lot of people thought it was winter that proved harshest for the homeless and the street rats. It was freezing, it was merciless, and the cold itself made even him look on the joyful families with envy at times. But that had nothing on summer in Rowan's opinion.
Difficult as it was to imagine, even the hardest of hearts in Gotham grew sentimental near Christmas.
And on the rare occasions when the special needs foundation and the for-the-needy charity actually did their job instead of quietly reselling old clothes and shoes to line their pockets, it was bearable as long as one knew how to light a dumpster fire.
That of course didn't mean winter was any less of a frigid, merciless bitch literature often made her out to be, but it was summer that your average homeless chaps really got to watch out for.
Aside from how short-tempered everybody was, how fast food tended to spoil in the heat and humidity, and how easily it was to drop dead from a heat stroke in the morning and stink to high heaven by noon, he loathed the way the rags smelled.
He hated even more how his skin stuck to itself, how some other street rat would pick that exact moment to hang off him, and how ragged it left him breathing just walking up and down the block. Romanticized as it was, summer was miserable for everyone, unless they were students fresh off school, or middle-class families sunbathing together in shorts and bikinis by their lakeside cabin.
Rowan had believed with every fiber of his being that he'd always hate the heat, and that he'd always be digusted by the sensation of his sweat mingling with another's.
As he gazed at the droplets trailing down the curves of Pamela's bouncing tits, and the glistening sheen that traced the line dividing her stomach, he realized he might have been pleasantly mistaken, and that maybe, just maybe, he didn't hate the heat that much after all. And maybe he actually preferred skin to skin contact and fluids mingling under the right circumstances.
His back straightened as he wiped the juice from his lips and chin, savoring the tangy, faintly bitter taste that brought his heart to his throat and set his cock jerking restlessly in the crotch of his pants. His eyes raked up her long, toned legs, held apart by the embodiment of the unholy desires brewing in his chest, and came to rest on the tuft of red hair that made her sexier than being bare ever could.
From there his gaze climbed, gliding over the flat of her stomach drawn taut by the exaggerated arch of her back, up to breasts that had tilted to the sides yet stayed firm and ever inviting.
Beautiful. Gorgeous. Sexy. Not one of those words began to cover the sensual creature laid bare before him.
Making love wouldn't be enough. Neither would rutting. He wanted to fuck her with his eyes before he ever got to fucking her, to engrave the sight and burn it into his mind, then ruin her and compare how she looked before to how she'd look after he was done with every inch of her flesh. He could blame these wicked thoughts on the Demon, on the despicable blood that flowed freely through his veins and down his rock-hard length, but what would be the point?
Even if Rowan Locke had been born the street urchin of an ordinary couple, he'd have wanted the exact same.
"Row-Rowan?"
"I'm going to fuck you." He declared it plainly, stripping off his pants and the stuffy underwear that was nothing more than a hindrance now. "I'm going to mark every patch of skin I see. And I'm not going to be gentle, so..."
He left the space between her legs without a word, prowling around to where her head hung, tilted back by gravity. His talons ghosted over her light green skin and drew a breathy moan that made his teeth itch.
Then he dropped all nine inches of his veiny cock near her face.
He hadn't meant for it to slap her cheek as hard as it did, but it did earn him an astonished look rarely seen on Pamela, and he'd have to be a fool to complain about that.
"You'll have to lube it for you..."
"Don't—" Eyes glazed with equal parts desire and the barest hint of fear, she batted her eyelashes at him. "Don't you mean for you?"
He grinned. "Oh, trust me, Red. It's for you."
What was it, he wondered?
Was it his cocky attitude that roused her fighting spirit, or the simple fact that this woman in the prime of her years had been on a nearly decade-long dry spell and, as hard as she'd try to deny it, yearned just as badly as he did? He tossed the question to the back of his head as her moist tongue lapped curiously at the underside of his cock, lathering the veiny length with her saliva.
Ivy grinned, victorious, when thick, sticky pre-cum oozed from the tip her full lips were quick to envelop whole.
She'd have enjoyed his groan more if the ache settling into her jaw hadn't dragged up the sudden realization that this girthy, monstrous thing would be inside of her before long.
"Wai—" She tried, only for the guest she'd so arrogantly invited into her mouth to intrude further, pushing on until the only sounds she could manage were obscene enough to make a whore blush. "Gurk—!"
She tensed as Rowan's hands roamed her chest, squeezing and slapping her reddening breasts while his cock sat heavy at the back of her throat. Lungs burning for want of air, she choked and coughed and flailed uselessly until her lover finally saw fit to pull free.
The respite, sadly, was brief as he pushed back into her mouth, filling her nostrils with his dizzying scent.
His hands and talons dragged along the sides of her tits before settling around her throat. His pinkies and ring fingers buried into the hair at the back of her head for purchase while his thumbs pressed at her jaw, holding her firmly in place. Any other day she would have had a great deal to say about being manhandled this roughly. But today wasn't any other day…
She glared up at him through teary eyes as he began to thrust, forcing the muscles of her throat to loosen and accommodate his length and girth. Ivy would be lying if she said it was not painful, but she'd be an even bigger liar if she said some part of her didn't find it thrilling.
Harder still was the burning heat low in her stomach which was making her cunt clench and grip hungrily around a fat load of nothing.
'It must be a Demon thing,' She told herself, and found the excuse entirely unconvincing while he worked every drop of his pre-cum into all available corners of her mouth. The faint bitterness only made her salivate more, which, reluctant as she was to admit it, might do her a favor when he finally decided it was high time for the real thing.
He withdrew from her mouth at last, backing away only once he had painted the thick, musky mixture across her cheeks, lips, nose, and, to her mounting indignation, hair! What did that make her, she quietly wondered, if the act brought to mind nothing so much as a dog marking its territory?
The thought was shelved the instant the Shade relinquished its hold.
Ivy dropped with a yelp, only for the Shade to gently break her fall from under, and pull her into a kneeling position immediately thereafter. She shuddered as the slick, cold texture of the Shade wound around her wrists, then climbed to her elbows.
How many men, and probably a fair few women, had dreamed of seeing her like this? How many had kept the fantasy under lock and key in the deepest corner of their mind? And why, of all of them, was she indulging this cocky, infuriating brat?
"No hands, Red."
"You absolute—"
Dick, was what she'd meant to finish with, only for his dick to make the point for her, intruding again and far less gently this time.
"Glk—! Mmf—gck!"
Her lips pursed as the intruder tensed, its twitches driving the tip against the roof of her mouth until white seed welled from it. Wasn't the average somewhere around a third of a teaspoon? His was nothing of the sort, thick and plentiful enough to nearly choke her and send a portion surging up her nose. Even as he withdrew he was still cumming, and Ivy made the most of it, drawing harder to coax the last drops from his balls.
She pouted a little when he choked a budding moan down into a grunt, even as her deft tongue traveled from the seam of his sack up to the smear of green lipstick she'd left at the base of his shaft. "Sat—" Pamela started, then coughed, spit and foaming cum running down the sides of her mouth. "Satisfied, you beast?"
For her own sake, she hoped he wasn't.
Her pussy hadn't stopped burning, after all, and one of them would have to do something about that.
To coax him back to hardness, Ivy chased the cum from around her lips with a slow wiggle of her tongue.
By the look of his rigid, hardening length, her endeavor had paid off.
She held his gaze, glazed but no less challenging for it, as the vigilante pushed her onto her back and she clamped her legs around his waist. No word was exchanged. No intention was vocalized, but both knew the time for foreplay was far behind them now. Slowly, Rowan pushed himself into her moist depths, trembling at the discovery that every fantasy and forbidden desire he'd had still fell short of the real thing.
"Fuck…"
He groaned as the woman under him moaned and cried out in ecstasy, then in pain as the walls of her pussy clenched tightly around the foreign object. By the time he'd buried himself to the hilt, the tightness had turned somewhat unpleasant for them both.
For Ivy especially.
He let out a mouthful of hot air, his heart softening at the tears in her eyes and the aggrieved expression that sat so strangely out of place on her features.
"Relax, Red."
"H-How can I?" She gasped as his cock chafed her insides trying to pull free, and clung on for dear life. "Don't… Don't move just yet."
His face flashed with frustration, but Rowan did as was asked all the same, going still and cradling her while she sucked in cold breath through clenched teeth that helped her loosen and grow slick around him. "You… You may move now."
Rowan wasted no time folding her knees up toward her head the moment he had the go-ahead, almost as if afraid she'd stop him again. Every quarter inch he drew back wrenched a loud, roaring moan from her lips as her toes curled with pleasure, until only the spongy tip remained. It was almost strange, Ivy thought, to feel this needy for something that had been so painful moments earlier.
Then it reintroduced itself with a thurst that caused his pelvis to smack loudly against her shapely ass, driving all the thoughts from her mind and all the air from her lungs.
Her lips cracked open in a silent scream, her eyes rolled to her back of her head as the slight curve of his cock forced her insides to give the way they had earlier.
Only this time, the pleasure far outweighed the pain.
It didn't help that he was massaging the faint outline his cock where it bulged beneath her skin, causing her tied hands to scrape and claw uselessly at the floor beneath. "Ah—mmh—haa—o-oh gawd~!"
There was nothing left to do but take it, so Pamela did, and the second she stopped resisting the pleasure crashed in twice, no, thrice as hard.
Yet her pride dug its heels in anyway. No whorish moaning allowed, it said, not from Poison Ivy!
So she clamped her jaw shut and swallowed the sounds, her teeth bared from the effort exerted.
That proved to be her undoing…
She should have seen it coming, really.
She'd psychoanalyzed the Imp once before and concluded that he was far less interested in heroism than he he was in breaking villains. Villains like her. Granted, this wasn't quite what she'd had in mind at the time.
Ivy went limp as he unleashed his lust on her with reckless abandon, only to jolt and spasm when something crackled against her clit. She craned her neck even as the current wrung the orgasm out of her, and found a serpentine coil of cloud hovering over his finger, veined with threads of electric blue.
'Well, he's certainly creative with his powers, if nothing else.'
The thought barely had time to take root before heat detonated low in her belly, filling her up like a hot meal in the coldest night of winter.
If only meals managed to be half as pleasurable, though she supposed everyone alive would triple in weight if they did.
She collapsed bonelessly onto the ground as her lover fell along, spooning her from behind.
He let her mess of hair settle across his arm while his other hand got handsy with her naked flesh. Pamela wanted nothing more than to drift to sleep, but what greeted her each time she shut her eyes was his smug, self-assured smirk! Accompanied by a prickling annoyance that caused her to bristle.
This wouldn't do.
She couldn't possibly let him get a leg up on her.
Hands free of the Shade, she wordlessly pulled his cock loose with shuddering gasps.
Then she lifted a hand and, much to his confusion, summoned her Children to pin his limbs just as he'd pinned her not long ago.
"We," Ivy panted, then rallied. "We are not done."
Her death glare would have been a great deal more menacing if she hadn't had to catch herself against a table when her shaking legs gave out halfway through her rise. Her teeth ground together as his cocky laughter reached her ears and his fanged grin cum (A/N: Lol) into view.
"Sure you don't want to catch your breath first, Red? You look like you need it."
"You..."
She'd show him, all right.
She'd show him!
.
.
.
Lying against his chest, Pamela sighed wistfully and drew lazy circles over it while Rowan dragged his talons down through her hair.
"What's wrong?"
She looked up into the six eyes, and into the worry working its way across his features, she smiled.
Was he thinking the same thing as she?
Were they both afraid that the other would come to regret this recklessness?
"Nothing. Just... Look at us. Two freaks in the one bed."
"That's not it."
Her hand froze stiff.
She hated how frank he could be at times.
"Something's bothering you, so tell me."
"I..."
She fell back and away from him, biting her cheek at the hurt that crossed his face when she put distance between them.
"I just... How can this work out? How can we?"
In what universe would it?
Putting aside the difference in age, she was a villain and he a hero. It was like Romeo and Juliet, if Juliet also happened to be a, what was it Gotham News liked to call her?
An eco-terrorist?
"A bit late to be worrying about that, isn't it?" Rowan chuckled, drawing a cigarette from somewhere behind him. Where had he even been keeping it?
"It's not Magic, just a little sleight of hands… Learned it from Batman, who learned it from some Tibetan monks." He answered as though having read her mind.
"...Are you telepathic too?"
"No, but I read faces pretty well." Rowan laughed while pinching her nose. God, how had she missed how sickly sweet this little bastard was? Where had that beastly hunk wandered off to?
With a snap of his fingers, lightning sparked and lit the cigarette that called to mind the handful of bars she used to haunt back when money ran thin and she desperately needed a commission.
Many of her Children were imported goods that no one but Penguin and his vast international network could procure, and the pudgy kingpin's services weren't cheap. "It's bad for your health."
"I'm a Super Demon. I'll live."
Under her scrutinizing gaze, Rowan took a lungful and exhaled it through his nose. He shook the ashes out her bedside window, and only then did he begin to speak. "If you're worried about our affiliations, rest easy. I'm not going to help you commit crimes, but I'm not going to bring you in either." He thought on it a moment longer, then added. "And I'm thinking of giving up the vigilante thing."
Ivy sat up, the blanket slipping to bare her breasts which immediately got the Imp's lustful attention.
"You want to stop being the Imp?"
"Yeah..."
He awkwardly averted his gaze before he got worked up again.
"If push comes to shove I'll still lend a hand, but this ain't working out for me."
"... Wow." Ivy let herself drop back onto the bed to quiet her aching spine.
"Wow indeed." Rowan laughed. "So if you're worried about that, don't be."
"...Association with me would drag you right back into this life." Retired or not, her enemies would stop at nothing to get to her.
"If it comes to that, I can take care of myself. Though I do wish you'd give up Poison Ivy."
She tensed at his admission, giggling wryly. "So this is your play? Fuck your enemies into submission and talk them out of villainy?"
"For the record," Rowan grinned, blowing out a mouthful of smoke. "I never fucked Freeze."
Ivy rolled her eyes, then quieted down. "Say I give up the mantle, then be what?"
"Mine." He answered without hesitation, dipping his thumb between her lips. She hated to admit it, but her heart did flutter.
"I want to be more than just your fuck-toy, Rowan."
"Shame… I happen to be pretty good at taking care of my toys."
Before she could muster up the glare to throw his way, he continued, his blackened talons grazing her cheek in a loving gesture that both disarmed, and thus unsettled her.
"In all seriousness. Be Pamela. Be the scientist who wanted to better the world, and would have, given the chance."
"She died a long time ago." Ivy's voice cracked.
"No, she didn't… I'm looking at her right now."
As their heated gazes met, she rose, plucked the cigarette from his fingers, and tossed it out the window.
"Hey! I was using that!"
"Shut up." She pressed her lips to his with conviction and straddled his crotch in the same motion, then began to ride his length where it strained beneath the blanket.
"Didn't we just bathe?"
"I said shut up!" Pamela growled into his mouth. "You did this to me. The least you can do is finish it."
Come morning she'd surely loath herself for this decision, but that was a problem for her future self. For now, her only job was to enjoy herself and, pun intended, ride out the night.
And so, for hours the bed creaked and burned with passion, while Gotham continued to blaze beyond the glass.
__________
"Rowan..."
"Yes?"
"What... What is that?" Ivy asked, pointing an accusatory, yet shaking finger at the Gollum-like creature crouched and chained beneath her basement.
"That... That's our Author," Rowan reluctantly admitted.
"That thing is the Author? Surely you jest?"
She asked, looking every bit as dumbfounded as she ought to feel.
"Unfortunately not…"
"And the… Things he's holding?"
"Power Stones and Reviews… Apparently, he can digest them," Rowan answered, rubbing the bridge of his nose, yet just as he turned away, Ivy jumped as she saw the Author put a few ten-dollar bills into his mouth.
"PrecioUssSSSS! My PReeeeeciousssSSS!!! Yes, yesSSSH! It'SssSss P 4 tr3on . C0m (slash) Regularrr?! P 4 tr3on (dot) c0m / Regularrr!!!! Gimme mOAAAARRR!!!"
"Row… Rowan?"
"Yeah?"
"I think he's eating money…" What she couldn't understand was where he had even gotten those, since she clearly remembered him holding only the glowing Stones and glinting Scrolls earlier, while Rowan, realizing what his Creator was doing, could only jump to stop him. "Ay, ay, stop! Fuck, stop it!!!"