DA Meadow: The Sinner and the Sadist (A Jason Todd/Red Hood Fanfiction) BOOK 1

Eighteen: His History

The song above I believe so perfectly matches the moments these two kiss... Plus I just love it!

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Throughout Jason's story, one thing stuck with me the most; he went through a load of heavy things throughout his childhood.

It sounded like an awful reality and I finally understood why he had stared at the floor through my own life speech; neither of us knew how to react to the other.

Granted, his story began to lighten with his telling of becoming the second Robin, being adopted and having Dick as an older brother. It sounded nice.

The way he talks about Bruce changes from sentimental to angry. It's obvious he's very conflicted over his relationship with his adoptive father.

But then things got weird.

"Anyway. I shouldn't have rushed ahead." At this point, he had received a tip on the Joker before the Bat had. He rushed to a warehouse.

"What happened?" I ask softly, noticing the change in his tone. The silence in the living room causes a ringing in my ears that I nearly wince at.

"He uh... he beat me with a crowbar. Ruthlessly. I um- This part might be a little hard for you to understand." He looks at me directly.

I nod slowly, almost scared. "Just say it," I encourage, seeing no other way to get it out of him. Jason finishes his beer and places it down, moving to sit further into the couch.

"He blew the warehouse up. It killed me."

For a moment, I thought he meant figuratively. By the look on his face I would have been very wrong. I stare at him for a long time, confused on what to say.

He's in front of me, living and breathing right now. Of course, in this world all manor of things are possible. Aliens. Superhumans. Magic...

Or maybe he's messing with me. I swear if he's lying... Would he lie about this sort of thing? Oh my God.

"If you don't believe me-"

"I believe you!" I rush out. Hope I don't sound like a desperate teenage girl.

"Really?" Jason sounds doubtful.

"When I was eleven an associate of my father's built an entire city with the click of his fingers... Trust me. I believe you," I suddenly throw in. It's usually my go-to story about why I believe in the mystic forces. "So then... what happened after that?" I ask gently, carefully.

"Bruce thought he'd buried me. An actual fact, my body...this body, was taken by Ra's Al Ghul. He felt he owed Bruce, because it was him who let the Joker free to distract Batman so the League of Shadows could blow up banks. They...threw me into the Lazarus Pit."

Lazarus Pit. In my head I see something along the lines of a cave pool full of a blue liquid. I nod slowly at Jason. And I thought I'd been through some things. Jason has literally died. 

"The League of Shadows trained me. Multiple other individuals... Like Talia Al Ghul." That's when my brain decides to read him.

"Sentimentality. Adoration...commemoration... You slept with her?" I ask the question lightly, without bad intent. He takes notice and nods. Reluctance. Embarrassment. Care....Virginity?

I drink before I can speak.

"When I came back to Gotham... The Joker was still alive." Immense rage. More rage than I've seen in him for a while. "Killed his own son. He killed his son and the Bat didn't have the guts to take his life. He took me from him and I-"

I've already vaulted over the couch, my knees between his legs and arms around his neck. A second of reluctance hung in the air before Jason slowly slid his arms around my waist.

He had begun to get a little emotional, so I hugged him. Everyone deserves a hug at some point in their life. Ugh, wince when am I so soft.

As usual he smells good. I wait for his hands to move off, but for a while they don't. I wonder if he's ever been able to confide in anyone over this...

I blink heavily to avoid letting tears fall, my eyes returning to normal. I move back, as his hands adjust slightly. His touch does not disappear completely though. He keeps me close.

So I find myself staring directly into his emerald green eyes, his face centimetres from mine. He is almost enticing to stare at; like I can't get enough of just looking at him.

I feel my own body moving without thought, splaying my hands behind me and moving up the couch. He follows me, never to far away.

My back hits the seat and his hand moves to my thigh as he hovers above me. Now that I think about it, he's never topped before.

Moving my hands into his hair, I pull him down and kiss him. Something feels different. Not off, but different. Almost too emotional.

The sentimental softness begins to ebb away as things heat up. I slide further down, observing the bites I left last time as Jason steadies himself above me, balancing on his elbows.

I lean up, running my tongue over the bruise. He shudders and I smirk. "You bruise to easily," I mumble, making a trail of kisses down his collar bone, zipping his jacket down at the same time.

"You bite hard," he shoots back, pulling the leather annoyance off and tossing it aside. I laugh softly and run my hands up his sides under his shirt.

He takes that off as well with a smirk. It reminds me that we're both fairly drunk. So that's why this is happening.

Within seconds my shirt is gone as well. My knees at his hips, I kiss him again and reach down, tugging at his waistband. "Moving fast," he murmurs against my mouth, nipping my lip.

He moves down to my neck and begins working on his own pants as I push my leggings down, toeing them off at my feet and kicking them to the side.

My back arches clean of the couch with a breathy whine as his hands wander elsewhere. I feel him grin in kind so I drag my nails down his back gently, clawing harder as he moves faster.

"So fucking perfect," he mumbles when he sits up, gazing down at me. I want to say something snippy back but he intensifies what's he's doing. I gasp and slam my hand into the sofa arm behind me, the other going over my mouth. "Think I was going to let you get away with torturing me before?"

"Seems-...fair," I hiss. He pulls away and strips completely. He leans back down, kissing me again. For a second it's gentle. He moves, running his hands down my thighs. I push against his chest before he can continue. "We've already done the sofa," I joke.

He takes it a bit too seriously and smirks, looking over the seat. I frown, before realising he was looking at the kitchen table. Oh my God.

Before I know it I'm being hoisted up and carried over to the mahogany. He places me down gently and climbs up. I think about flipping us- but I suppose it's his turn.