Intoxicating Desires | T. Al Ghul ✔

[30]

~ TW: This chapter contains content that might be upsetting. Reader discretion is advised. ~

***

Bruce hadn't expected to hear from Talia Al Ghul again and definitely not that soon. However, there he was holding a letter from her, considering what he should do about it.

The woman was visiting Gotham again and she had assured that her business in the city wasn't going to harm any citizens. Apparently, her stay wasn't very long but she wanted to meet him and had invited him to dinner herself.

She had mentioned in the letter that she wanted to discuss her intentions with him more openly and she needed to do that face to face. Furthermore, she had advised him to turn up as Bruce Wayne, his real identity instead of the enigmatic mask he wore to protect his city.

He was surprised that she was still adamant about not buying his excuse that Bruce Wayne and Batman weren't the same. But she had sworn that she would never disclose his identity to another soul such that she hadn't even told her father about it.

After much pondering, he decided that he should at least hear her out. She had kept to her word and not hurt any innocent citizens since the last time and if she wanted to discuss something in private, it must be an important matter.

He reached the inscribed address and found himself in front of a lavish townhouse. No wonder, the League had assets that the Al Ghuls could use flamboyantly.

A butler held the door open for him as he stepped in and was shown the way to the dining hall. A sumptuous feast was laid out yet the lady of the house hadn't yet turned up to greet her guest.

"I apologize for being late," her sultry voice caught him by alarm and he turned to see her entering the dining hall.

A red lace dress clung to her figure and accentuated her curves as she sauntered toward him. It was very clear that she was well aware of the effect she had on men and knew how to use it to her advantage.

"I am so honored that you did not decline my invitation," she gestured for him to take the seat and he obliged, feeling as if his throat had gone parched from the heavy scent that lingered in the room.

It was almost intoxicating but not as much as the woman in front of him.

He settled down in his seat and considered what to do next. She kept passing dishes to him and sparked up a light conversation after apologizing for threatening to take Richard's life the last time they had met. She was trying to clear it up to him that she was not interested in hurting him or his sons at all, in fact, she just needed a little cooperation.

He did not know whether it was the scent or the sight of the current moment that he found his judgment regarding her get clouded. perhaps Richard was right and she wasn't like her father, merely being used as a chess piece in a greater game designed by the Demon head.

Or perhaps she was the Dark Horse; the deception lying in plain sight, waiting for the right moment to strike.

No matter what role she played in the game, at the moment she had him hooked to her words, almost getting him to believe her and trust her that she was being sincere towards him.

***

He should have known it was a trap.

She was the Demon Head's daughter after all, he knew he should not have trusted her.

But it was already too late and the drink he had consumed made him feel quite out of sorts. It was strong, even for his preference, and he felt it was clouding his senses.

He really should have stopped at the first glass.

But by then he had lost count of how much of the wine he had consumed. He couldn't ascertain whether everything really was getting faintly red around him or if he was just getting drowsy from all the exhaustion of not being able to rest properly.

Talia's voice had faded as well but he was still able to hear it like a light humming, a soft tune overlapping to create a lullaby. Her hands that rested on top of his felt far softer than he could have expected and he blinked twice, trying to clear out his vision.

"You seem so tired," her voice fluttered around him as he felt those hands trail up his arms and rest on his shoulders. She had pushed her seat much closer to him than he remembered and his hazy eyes started to focus on her.

Her beautiful tanned skin, those wide emerald eyes with thick luscious lashes and her lips painted red, just like the wine he had consumed with her. That veil of dark hair fell over her shoulders and cascaded down to her waist, framing her face as she leaned closer, one soft hand resting against his cheek.

"You should rest," he heard her voice again, trying to read the movement of her lips along with it, "come."

He found himself unable to resist as her arm snaked around his back and she helped him up from the chair, leading the way to somewhere dark. He couldn't break free from her even if he tried yet the shocking aspect was that he did not want to break free either.

He felt her lower him to a soft bed, her fingers deftly undoing the buttons on his coat and then his shirt while his hands reached up to hold her close to him. He did not know what that feeling was but he felt drawn to her as if she had cast a spell that he couldn't break out of.

He felt as if his actions were no longer under his control.

And then those dark red lips stole his breath away with a kiss that soon turned passionate. That seemed to be the final straw as all the self-control he had been mustering dissipated.

His lips clung to hers hungrily and she complied, giving him access to explore deeper. His hand held her close by the waist and his grip tightened as he turned her over, his hazy vision starting to focus on her fully.

Amid the faint red all around, only she was what he could see clearly up close. And the more he saw her, the more he desired her.

"It's alright," she whispered in her lulling tone, "I want this as much as you do. Don't hold back, Beloved."

It was almost as if those words granted him permission and he stopped resisting whatever spell she had cast on him. His hands slid the flimsy dress off her, and her fingers got entangled in his dark hair, maneuvering him with the ease of a puppet master.

She knew she wasn't going to bring up the alliance again because she had already gotten what she wanted from him. 

However, the next morning when he woke up in an unfamiliar bed, tangled in unfamiliar sheets, he held no memory of what had happened last night. And Talia herself was nowhere to be seen.

All that he recalled was the ghost of her lips against hers and a strong aftertaste left in his mouth from whatever drink he had been served at dinner. But there was no one around to confirm his doubts.

It was almost as if he had been through a very racy dream that had ended just as abruptly as it had begun, leaving him stripped seconds after of each glimpse connected to it.

***