Bleepings

IV: Dick's trying to stop me...too bad he loves me

She liked being beneath him…even if only to feel his weight on her back. She hummed, “you're so comfortable,” he kissed her cheek, she smiled, “you're way too cute, Raven.” She shrugged slowly, feeling him sit up.

“Where are you going?” She mumbled satisfied as he laid her weighted blanket down on her. She smiled again, harder when he kissed her neck.

“Not far,” he said against her hair as her head slowly turned to face him. She kissed him softly.

“I'll come with you,” she leaned away, licking her lips. Her cover coated in black magic lifting her comfort away into the cold frosty air. His hot hands fell on her bare breasts, “they're still sensitive.” He let her go.

“I just got Deja Vu,” he smiled, grasping her hand and helping her sit up. She floats off the bed and her leotard breaks apart into fabric that entwines her body attractively.

His heart beats and his face burns watching her float past him smiling as her frazzled hair is brushed and combed by floating hair tools. The bathroom sink turns on and the water hovers through every crevice of her body beneath the leotard.

Across her scalp. Around her nose. Between her teeth and over her tongue. I'm every pore and divet of her mind.

“You're staring again, boy wonder,” she joked looking at him from the mirror. Her voice was light and airy, chuckling like wind chimes throughout his body.

His heart is in his throat, eyes watering beyond reason, his jaw clenched. He looked away, unexplainable guilt in his head, “Star and Tara are with Diana and Zatanna…they're out buying dresses.” Raven looked down at the dresser.

Pictures of their family lining the fine wood, Tara and Richard coated in mud. Starfire and Raven dressed as Crayola markers. She smiled. “Whether you like it or not, I love you.”

She looked at the mirror staring at her smudged lipstick, she smiled harder seeing him try to hide his blushing face with her pillow.

Her small fingers flicked the little bobble head of her husband holding a batarang. “I love you Richard Grayson,” he groaned.

“Stop saying it like that,” he fell back with the pillow still on his face. She blinked for a second—thought coming to mind. Her leotard unraveled and fell to the ground. Immediately, a black sludge portal opens up beneath her feet.

Dark black straps wrap around her body quickly, “I don't know how else I'm supposed to say it.” She could practically hear his rushing heart. “You're my husband.” Six feet tall, seven inches taller than her.

But he feels so small in her arms, “I can't not love you,” she looks at the mirror as a silky black strands braid into her hair. Her black dress slowly empties from the puddle of sludge.

Her hands pressing on the dresser are covered in the same black fibers making her dress. Her eyes water as her breathing shakes, “stop talking Raven.” He grumbled, she smiled and flicked her nervous tears off.

“I'm about to be Raven Grayson in a few hours,” she rubs her arms—she feels beautiful. “Richard.” He hummed without taking the pillow off. Raven turned around to face him.

She smiled and walked across the room as heels were created beneath her steps, the clacking seemed to have garnered his attention. “Raven?” He took the pillow off and sat up—wide eyes stare at her.

Mouth slightly parted, her hands squeezed her forearms as he looked at her. “It's ugly isn't it?” She turned ar–he stopped her. She looks down at the ground, “I know this is bad luck…but I really wanted to show you.”