Damian clicked his tongue, "Just as expected."

Raven hummed in agreement, taking in the images and footage on the screen in front of her. Sitting cross legged on Damian's beg, with a laptop between them, the part-demons observed as evidence flew on to the screen, proving their theory on the Council's less-than-honest dealings.

Brow furrowing, the demoness's finger hovered above the digital display, indicating towards a particular video taking space in the left hand corner. Eyes trained on the proceedings of the video, the dent between Raven's eyebrows deepened.

"Auctioning?", she narrowed her eyes, "The audacity of some...it's almost insulting how blatant they are- why, if this was leaked to the Light rulers in their home realms they'd be dangling from ropes."

Smirking at her ferocious (and righteous) indignation, Damian watched as a man shrouded in the white robes of the Council tapped his gavel, sentencing a Light Magic-infused rifle to a life with humans. A moment later, it was a portal creation device, much like the one Raven and Damian were currently in possession of. Followed by a Light protection amulet, auctioned off for well over a hundred-thousand.

The same spark of fury that lit Raven flared within Damian: these were items of magic, regardless of Light or Dark, and it was an insult to the great practitioners of old, and even the gods (Hecate, for example) to place such items in the hands of humans. How dare they!

"Tt. Despicable."

Thoroughly disgusted by the Councilman's actions, Raven reached forwards, shutting the tab. Before the two, sitting innocently on the screen, records of all the sales of Light magic items to non-preternaturals lay, list upon list of the Council' sin.

Of the regulations hanging over the heads of all preternaturals (Light and Dark) who lived amongst humans, a firm rule was that no human should ever become in possession of any magically tainted object. A sin punished with the highest level of severity: a sin, not a crime, but a sin, since the rulers of Light and Dark alike so loved dramatics.

Damian wondered at the reach Lahra, Tyrone, Jackson and the others. They kept a tight rein in the preternatural blackmarket, so it made perfect sense to hold such knowledge on the ins and outs of all providers and customers. Still, with records and footage of that level, Damian could appreciate the advantage of his connections.

The two soaked up as much information as possible, committing names, dates, figures to memory. As their minds absorbed like sponges, Damian and Raven's anger resided, giving place to calculating coldness.

After ingesting the last morsels of information, Damian cast his eyes upon the ocean of navy visible through his window. The sky had shed all traces of light more than two hours prior, and now, at seven pm, night had asserted its dominance over this part of Earth.

Despite the grave matter occupying a great deal of space within his mind, Damian couldn't help the thoughts tainting his mind- rather, he could, but he didn't want to as they were thoughts flooding warmth through him. With every shifting of fabric on his bed, with every accidental brushing of the knees, the distinct memory of what one transpired on that bed (the rush of heat, the erratic heart beats, the laboured breaths) caressed his mind.

Removing the USB -that Tyrone had given him- from the laptop, Damian closed all tabs, shutting the device with a sound click.

The first to end the quiet, Raven offered, "We ought to investigate further."

"I agree."

Raven, crossing her legs, sitting besides her... kind-of-but-also-not friend, tugged the sleeves of her woollen jumper (grateful that they'd thought to change clothes before viewing the USB's files). Seemingly at a loss for words, in spite of the fact that they'd been discussing the matter of the Council's dealings a moment earlier, Raven subconsciously rolled her lips, eyes darting up to meet Damian's.

Noticing that his eyes were trained on her also, the demoness was met by an abrupt, commanding storm of emotion, striking her core and casting her amethyst eyes in to a sea of magenta.

On a spur of the moment, Damian's hand reached forward, tucking a purple streak behind Raven's ear. As his forgers brushed over her skin, the innocent act felt to the demoness like he was committing the most sensual of gestures.

Their gazes locked on to one another, Damian's soft exhaled drifted over Raven while the demoness weighed up the distance between them. A few inches at best. They could close it in seconds.

Which they did.

Desire coursing through his veins, Damian brushed his lips over Raven's, her torso leaning closer to him so that her chest barely brushed his. Pressing his lips harder against hers, Damian's arm travelled of its own accord, tangling in her short purple locks and pulling her in deeper.

As their lips met and parted in a series of gasps and pants, the demoness had unfolded herself- she now leaned forwards, kneeling in front of Damian, her hands steadied herself against his chest.

Unlocking their lips, Raven beat past the lust raging within and allowed her hands to wander upwards, cupping Damian's face between them. Her pinkish eyes found his, exchanging a single stare of purity before she drew her lips to his, mouths tenderly moving together.

Drawing Raven nearer, Damian placed a hand in her waist, lighting spark where his skin met hers. Her back to the headboard, the demoness let Damian's form trap her, his arms and legs like jail-bars radiating body heat.

Wrapping her arms around the ex-assassin's neck, Raven's back formed an arch as once more their lips crushed against one another's. Lost in the throes of lust, her entire being trembled as Damian's hands left the headboard to slip beneath her jumper.

Lips and tongues mingling as one, he crept up her torso, fireworks setting off with every caress. Slowly but surely, Damian's fingers inched towards the band of her bra, eliciting a soft moan from the demoness between impassioned kisses growing more heated by the second.

Knock Knock Knock.

"Are you fucking kidding?", Damian muttered, their mouths millimetres apart.

'Ignore it.", Raven murmured, grabbing a fistful of his shirt.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"LITTLE SHIT, OPEN THE FUCK UP!"

Jason's voice, muffled as it was through the door, grated through Damian's ears, irritation taking the place of desire.

"He'll break the door down.", Damian sighed, limbs not yet untangled for Raven's.

Exhaling in disappointment, the demoness conceded, "I'll go out through a portal, you open the door."

Reluctance shining in his eyes as they transitioned from scarlet to green, Damian shared a bittersweet kiss with Raven, daring to prolong their embrace. Relinquishing the demoness, Damian rose, his hands slipping out of her jumper to un-muse his hair. Likewise, Raven's fingers worked over her tussled locks and ruffled clothing.

Swollen lips and flushed complexions could hardly be combated.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"HURRY YOUR ANNOYING ASS!"

Mumbling bloody murder, Damian saw Raven off with a regretful glance, sorely regretting not opening the door and telling Todd to fuck off. Needs would have to be satisfied later. With it's signature click, the seven-and-a-half foot slab of wood slammed against the wall, revealing a pissed Jason: not pissed as in drunk; pissed as in annoyed. Then again, Jason was Jason, so it could have been both.

"Kori's worried, you've been up for so long. Get your ass downstairs."

With that bucket of sass, he stalked off, leaving Damian's fists balled and eyes narrowed.

Tt. That was it?! !ابن الكلب

***

Despite the summons downstairs, nothing notable transpired throughout the night, leaving the part-demons lust unsatisfied. It had been Damian's turn to patrol with Timothy, hence, as usual, it was a few hours punctuated by scathing comments and personal jibes.

Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing in the least.

And that description fitted the next few days. Hours were spent simply training, reading and drinking tea. Oh, and some scandalous affairs -privy only to Damian and Raven. Whispers rose about a certain genocidal rapist maniac with a shock of green hair, pasty skin and a bloody smile escaping from Arkham Asylum. Mere speculations, though there seemed enough merit to them to warrant an investigation.

On New Year's Eve, who would ascertain these suspicions but one equally deranged lady bearing a candy red mallet and sugary sweet pistol.

A.N:

I know, that was mean, I just dropped something like that on your heads. Sorry not sorry.
This wasn't a great chapter, I've had some stuff going on this week. So that I'm sorry for. Yeah, sorry 😐

Anywho, thank you so much for reading, commenting and voting!

-Bats :3