Chapter 6: The Escape
The rooftop was colder than he remembered.
Robin stood at the edge, hands gripping the railing so hard the metal groaned beneath his fingers. The city sprawled out below him like a glittering wound, all neon arteries and pulsing lights, and he hated it. Hated the way it reminded him of her. Of violet eyes and smoldering heat and the taste of ozone on his tongue.
Three days. Three days since Starfire had walked away, and he'd thrown himself into the ache like a man diving off a cliff. Patrols that lasted until dawn. Training sessions that left him gasping and bruised. Anything to outrun the hunger that coiled in his gut, the bond that sang her name like a prayer.
It didn't work. It never worked.
The rooftop door creaked open behind him, and he didn't need to turn to know who it was. The air itself changed, growing heavier, charged with something electric and forbidden.
"You look like a man at a funeral," Blackfire said, her voice carrying over the wind. "Preferably his own."
"Go away, Komand'r."
"Such hostility." She moved closer, and he felt her presence like a flame against his back. "And here I thought we'd moved past the formalities."
He heard the soft scrape of her boots on the concrete, the whisper of fabric as she closed the distance between them. Then her body was pressed against his, heat seeping through the thin material of his shirt. Her breasts flattened against his shoulder blades, and her arms slid around his waist, deceptively gentle.
"Don't," he said, but it came out weaker than he intended. Broken.
"Don't what?" Her lips brushed his ear, and he shivered despite himself. "Don't touch you? Don't want you? We both know that ship has sailed, little bird."
Her hands slid up his chest, nails raking through the fabric of his shirt. The sensation sent sparks skittering down his spine, and he hated how his body responded. Hated the way his cock twitched in his pants, the way his breath caught in his throat.
"You have no life here anymore," she murmured, her words a poison-tipped arrow aimed at the heart of his guilt. "She will never trust you again. You know that, don't you? Every time she looks at you, she'll see me. She'll see what we did. What you let me do."
"Stop."
"And you will never want anyone but me." Her teeth grazed his earlobe, a sharp, possessive bite. "That's the beauty of the bond, Robin. It doesn't care about your guilt or your loyalty or your precious moral code. It only cares about me."
She turned him around, her hands gripping his shoulders, and he found himself staring into those violet eyes. They glowed faintly in the darkness, twin embers burning with a hunger that matched his own.
"Come with me," she said, and it wasn't a question. "To Tamaran. One week."
"Tamaran," he repeated, his voice hollow.
"One week," she repeated, stepping closer. Her thigh pressed between his legs, and he gasped at the contact. "I'll show you pleasures that will burn Earth from your memory forever. I'll take you to the pleasure dens of the Sapphire District, where the air itself is thick with desire and the nights last for days. I'll teach you things your little Gotham mind can't even imagine."
"I can't—"
"You can." Her fingers found the hem of his shirt, slipping beneath the fabric. Her palms were hot against his stomach, sliding upward until her thumbs brushed his nipples. He hissed, his hips bucking involuntarily. "You can, and you will. Because you know, just as well as I do, that you can't stay here. You can't face her. You can't pretend this isn't happening."
She dropped to her knees.
The world tilted, and Robin's hand shot out to steady himself against the railing. Blackfire looked up at him from the ground, and the sight of her there—proud, vicious, untamed Blackfire—kneeling at his feet, was enough to make his mouth go dry.
"Komand'r, what are you—"
Her fingers found his belt, working the buckle with practiced ease. The clink of metal was obscenely loud in the silence. She pulled the leather through the loops, and then she was unbuttoning his pants, pulling down the zipper with excruciating slowness.
"Say yes," she breathed, her breath hot against the fabric of his boxers. "Say yes, and I'll show you exactly what you're leaving behind."
He should say no. He should push her away, run back to the tower, try to salvage something from the wreckage of his life. But the bond in his chest was throbbing, pulsing with a need that eclipsed all reason, and his cock was already straining against his underwear, desperate and painfully hard.
"Please," he heard himself say, the word torn from somewhere primal.
She smiled, slow and wicked, and then she was pulling down his boxers, freeing his cock. It sprang out, thick and aching, the tip glistening with precum. She wrapped her fingers around the base, stroking him with deliberate slowness, and he groaned, his head falling back.
"Pretty," she said, her voice a low purr. "Very pretty. Let's see how it tastes."
She leaned forward, her tongue darting out to lick a stripe from the base to the tip. The sensation was electric, jolting through his nervous system like a live wire. He gasped, his fingers finding her hair, gripping the silky strands.
She took him into her mouth.
The heat of her was overwhelming. Her lips stretched around his girth, her tongue swirling around the head as she began to bob up and down. She took him deep, her throat relaxing to accommodate him, and the wet, obscene sounds she made echoed across the rooftop.
"Fuck," he groaned, his hips thrusting forward of their own accord.
She looked up at him, those violet eyes locked on his face, and something in her gaze shifted. The mockery faded, replaced by something ravenous, voracious. She sucked harder, her cheeks hollowing, her fingers working the base of his cock in a rhythm that drove him insane.
He was close. So close. The pressure was building in his gut, coiling tight like a spring about to snap.
"I'm gonna—" he gasped, his grip on her hair tightening.
She pulled away.
The sudden absence of her mouth was a cruelty beyond measure. He stood there, cock slick with her spit, throbbing and desperate, gasping for air.
"Say yes," she said, her voice rough with her own desire. She licked her lips, a slow, deliberate motion. "Say yes, and I'll let you finish inside me."
"Yes," he said, frantic, desperate. "Yes, I'll go. I'll go to Tamaran. Just please—"
She rose, pressing her body against him, capturing his mouth in a kiss that tasted of him. It was searing, possessive, a brand that claimed what was already hers. Her tongue swept against his, and he tasted himself on her, salty and intimate, and it drove him mad.
"Good boy," she whispered against his lips. "Now come with me."
She grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the edge of the rooftop. For a terrifying moment, he thought she was going to throw them both off, but then she spread her arms, and the air itself began to glow.
A ship materialized from the darkness—sleek and silver, shaped like a teardrop caught mid-fall. It hovered above them, a hatch opening in its belly, and Blackfire leaped, pulling him with her.
They landed in the cockpit, the ship's interior dark and sleek and smelling of her—ozone and smoke and something darker. She pressed him against the control panel, her body flush against his, and kissed him again, deeper than before.
"One week," she murmured against his mouth. "And when we're done, you'll beg me to make it forever."
The ship's engines roared to life, and the city fell away below them, a constellation of lights shrinking into the void. Robin didn't look back.
He couldn't.