222: Sleeping . . . (OOC: Nothing to do with couches)
Rest is something I don’t do easy, not these days. When I was with the man I once called “dad,” I was kept awake through constant training and my few attempts at sleep were halted by the fear of failing him. With the Titans, I’m kept awake by the nightmares of the people I killed when I was under the influence of that serum and the fear of what might happen if that bastard finds me again.
I know what rest is, of course. I’ve rested in the finest beds; my mother had money, at least before she died. The beds in Titans Tower have always been pretty good, and Mr. and Mrs. Madison had a good room set up for me, with a nice bed, too. That was probably the last time I had any kind of good sleep.
When I came into Robin’s room to seduce him, I can’t deny that there was some part of me that wanted to feel his sheets against my skin. I can’t deny that on some level, I wanted to feel his skin against mine, his body heat mixing with mine, and I figured that maybe I’d be able to sleep this time. Of course, he kicked me out, the stubborn mule; probably would rather sleep with Wonder Priss, although I can’t imagine why. (Maybe angry sex is his preference, in which case I now understand why he didn’t do me; I didn’t piss him off enough.)
I can’t deny that Kid Devil makes me feel something. I could sleep with him, not like, having sex with him sleep with him, but the literal sleeping. Problem is, his body temp is really high (and that’s a freaking understatement) and the closest I can get to kissing him is using his breath to light my cigarettes. It’s kind of a thrill, to be that close to him, to be toying with danger like that. He’s a sweetheart, really, but there is something to be said about playing with fire.
Heh. Sleep. Call me again in eight hours; I just tried some sleeping pills and I’m starting to feel kinda woozy. Night.