[ f i c ] Punish your Conversion
They’ve been playing cat and mouse all night, but damn if Roy’s going to admit that he’s the mouse. Cheshire runs like an arrow, cutting through the night and leaping so cleanly that her toes barely make a sound as she lands in front of him. He can’t see past her mask but he can hear the smirk as she purrs.
“Come, don’t play so hard to get. I know you enjoyed our first date.”
“You’ve got some issues if you think us trying to kill each other is a date.” His knees ache from when he fell after she elbowed him in the back, but his arms are rock-steady as he aims.
Cheshire tosses a smoke bomb his way and he ducks and rolls away from the ensuing gases. When he pulls up, she’s right there in his face, and for a split moment all he sees is never-ending black, an iris that blends into the pupil to make a pool of ink deep enough for him to drown in. He hears her breath and feels the warm puff through her porcelain mask.
“Think of it as my version of foreplay,” she coos as he pulls the bowstring. In the split second it takes for him to shoot, she’s already gone.
-
“Red Arrow.”
Her voice reverberates through the warehouse, silken smooth and raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Enemy, he reminds himself. He can’t pinpoint its origins, but his body is tensed like his bowstring, ready to leash out at any second. She laughs, and the sharpness of the sound sends shudders down Roy’s spine.
He doesn’t know what she’s playing at. This is a run-of-the-mill drug bust, like last month’s robbery and the jail-break the month before that. But here she is again, baiting him, teasing him, making it impossible for him to ignore her.
They perform their dance, and before he manages to stick an arrow through her, she drags her nails down his arm hard enough to draw blood and disappears. He stares at the scratches for a while before leaning down hesitantly and licking them clean. The alkaline heat spreads like fire down his throat and lower still.
-
“I will kill you,” he snarls, leaping back to avoid the slash of her knife. He grabs her wrist and twists, and she falls against him with a short gasp, knife dropping with a dull thud. Her body is lean and wiry, a hot flash pressed against him that makes his pulse throb painfully and reminds him of the tang of blood. Her hair smells like gunpowder, sand, and a dash of jasmine.
“I’ll have to see it to believe it,” she says, blowing against his ear. He chokes and almost moans at the rush of heat that surges through him when her tongue flicks out and laps at his overly sensitive earlobe. His body throbs again.
Then, too easily for it not to be an insult to Roy’s pride, she twists out of his grip and roundhouse kicks him.
He lies on the ground, dazed, and wonders what she’s doing with him, leaving him there for another night, another round of cat and mouse.
-
“It won’t work,” he hisses. “I’m not interested in the likes of you, terrorist.”
She laughs and drags her fingers along the back of his neck as she disappears.
“Oh, you’ll see.”
Roy shoots an arrow after her, but it’s too late already.
“In your dreams,” he mutters.
He goes back home and gets take-out from his favorite Chinese place, Lian’s, and tries to forget the way his body had responded to her promise.
-
“Come, don’t play so hard to get. I know you enjoyed our first date.”
“You’ve got some issues if you think us trying to kill each other is a date.” His knees ache from when he fell after she elbowed him in the back, but his arms are rock-steady as he aims.
Cheshire tosses a smoke bomb his way and he ducks and rolls away from the ensuing gases. When he pulls up, she’s right there in his face, and for a split moment all he sees is never-ending black, an iris that blends into the pupil to make a pool of ink deep enough for him to drown in. He hears her breath and feels the warm puff through her porcelain mask.
“Think of it as my version of foreplay,” she coos as he pulls the bowstring. In the split second it takes for him to shoot, she’s already gone.
-
“Red Arrow.”
Her voice reverberates through the warehouse, silken smooth and raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Enemy, he reminds himself. He can’t pinpoint its origins, but his body is tensed like his bowstring, ready to leash out at any second. She laughs, and the sharpness of the sound sends shudders down Roy’s spine.
He doesn’t know what she’s playing at. This is a run-of-the-mill drug bust, like last month’s robbery and the jail-break the month before that. But here she is again, baiting him, teasing him, making it impossible for him to ignore her.
They perform their dance, and before he manages to stick an arrow through her, she drags her nails down his arm hard enough to draw blood and disappears. He stares at the scratches for a while before leaning down hesitantly and licking them clean. The alkaline heat spreads like fire down his throat and lower still.
-
“I will kill you,” he snarls, leaping back to avoid the slash of her knife. He grabs her wrist and twists, and she falls against him with a short gasp, knife dropping with a dull thud. Her body is lean and wiry, a hot flash pressed against him that makes his pulse throb painfully and reminds him of the tang of blood. Her hair smells like gunpowder, sand, and a dash of jasmine.
“I’ll have to see it to believe it,” she says, blowing against his ear. He chokes and almost moans at the rush of heat that surges through him when her tongue flicks out and laps at his overly sensitive earlobe. His body throbs again.
Then, too easily for it not to be an insult to Roy’s pride, she twists out of his grip and roundhouse kicks him.
He lies on the ground, dazed, and wonders what she’s doing with him, leaving him there for another night, another round of cat and mouse.
-
“It won’t work,” he hisses. “I’m not interested in the likes of you, terrorist.”
She laughs and drags her fingers along the back of his neck as she disappears.
“Oh, you’ll see.”
Roy shoots an arrow after her, but it’s too late already.
“In your dreams,” he mutters.
He goes back home and gets take-out from his favorite Chinese place, Lian’s, and tries to forget the way his body had responded to her promise.
-