bakerstreet | Hatesex Meme

Hatesex Meme

hatesex meme

Somehow you've come to hate this person, but the UST is still magnetizing. This is the place to get all that hate out while getting dirty.

•Post your character
•Post your prefs
•Tag around, scenarios optional

1. Argument: No matter how you two are normally, you've recently gotten into an argument and it's only set things off.

2. Competitors: You are after the same thing, whether you're in the bag game against one another, the bar league's softball team or bowling.

3. BDSM: The kinky option. You two are actually fine with one another, but fucking the hell out of one another just does it for you.

4. Romeo + Juliet: Opposite sides of a warring faction. Your family killed mine. I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of everything. Let's just fuck because I hate you.

5. Coworkers: Like competitors, you are generally after the same thing. There is a sense of one-upmanship. And yet you are probably attracted to them because they are so much like you.

6. Physicality: You are actually in a fist fight or have been (feel free to play that out or not), and it either turns sexual or you just haven't gotten all the UST out, yet.

7. Fuck it: Free for all/ make up your own. You hate them. There's this wall. Have at it

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[Kal-El really doesn’t care for being pulled down, and his expression shows it.

He doesn’t expect humans to be submissive- which drove his parents crazy. They were lower beings, yes, not yet evolved, but Kal-El failed to understand what in them warranted such disgust from his family and equals. Look at this specimen, for example- his eyes were bright with intelligence, with knowledge and curiosity beyond those of an animal. Is he supposed to hate every of his kind because some of them are barbarian in nature?

But there’s a line difference between submission and disrespect and this human is crossing it. He gives him a look so he knows his actions are being noticed, if overlooked for now, and that he’s threading lightly if he keeps on treating him like that.

His feet never touch the ground.]

Address me as Kal, son of El. [But since he has the human’s attention, might as well make the most of it.] I would like to know what you might have heard about a meteorite that fell nearby.

[ The annoyance is not surprising. The fact that Bruce isn't dead or at least in pain from being burnt from heat vision is. It's enough to make his thoughts screech for a halt, his hands stilling at the edge of his belt.

Curious. Extremely curious.

The House of El is one of the most famous Kryptonian Houses. Jor-El, the head of his house; Zor-El, his brother. Their respective wives: Lara and Alura. (Such a feudal system for a supposedly scientific and logical societies.) For their heir to not immediately order Bruce to kneel, for their heir to not burn Bruce's hand off for daring to touch his clothes...

Well. That's interesting, to say the least.

Those feet still do not touch the ground. That makes Bruce scowl, and take another gamble. His objectives are shifting, if only slightly, and he needs to be sure. ]

'Kal, son of El' is a long name. Too long for my clumsy human tongue. [ Is that mockery? Yes, yes it is. ]

How about Kal? Just Kal.

[ Oh, the liberties he's taking. Bruce deliberately lets his hand hang by his side, and doesn't go near the belt. ]

[Kal-El might have exaggerated by claiming he could see intelligence in this man’s eyes, then. He was probably seduced by the poetry of it- Jor-El says he’s a bit like his uncle Zor-El sometimes, an artist in the science guild that sees art in scientific equations and apparently also sees beauty in creatures that do not know their place.]

Only my friends are allowed to call me Kal. I am Kal-El, if you must. And I would hate to have to have to hurt you but if you keep on being disrespectful you will leave me no choice.

[Kal-El is a big defendant of the Kryptonians giving their planet back to the humans when they have evolved enough to have earned, when they are a bit more like the Kryptonians that take care and provide for them now. But he can see now that the moment for that is still far, far away in time.]

What do they call you? Surely your clumsy human tongue can manage the name you were given, even if you seem unable to provide an answer to the direct question of an heir to the science guild.

[ I would hate to have to hurt you, says one of the most privileged and powerful beings on the planet, and Bruce finds himself forcing himself to not blink because he thinks he can actually believe those words.

His mind is whirling. Instinctively, he ducks his head, digging into his pockets. He draws out a match, twirling it around his hand before putting it between his teeth. Lips curve into a smile. ]

You can call me Matches. [ Not his true name, of course. It has been a long time since anyone has called him 'Bruce' outside of his own head. Even Alfred now sticks to 'Young Master' for the sake of safety in anonymity.

And this is another step into the gamble: he's speaking Kryptonian. Not the flawless, fluent type that he's capable of, no, but a halting, heavily-accented version. Clumsy as if his tongue is unused to the shape of the alien words.

But perfectly grammatical, nonetheless.

He grins even wider, lifting his head as his mind finally makes that final shift. ]

I'm not much of a man for titles.

[Kal-El has, like every Kryptonian from a strong enough family, been trained in the art of being able to tell if humans lie. They are a treacherous kin, write the books, they will lie and hide things from you until they get what you want and use whatever excuses their simple mind can come up with to justify their lies. They lie to their parents, lie to their house, lie to their friends, lie to their mates… so obviously they would lie to their superiors as well, and not even regret it. For mostly honest people like the Kryptonians that’s a weird concept to get used to, especially people in the house of El who are known for their logical thinking that would need no lies whatsoever.

But then the man is speaking Kryptonian- accented version of it, to be sure, and is he aware of how rude the inflection he’s using is? Kal-El can’t even- and all his classes on how to detect lies are completely forgotten. Kal-El buys that is his name and doesn’t even question it.

He hovers a little closer, almost touching the ground.]

You speak my language. Who is the one that taught you how to speak it? [Spoken with the inflections one would use to speak to children. And then he switches back to the Common Human Language.]

And why do you insist on making it impossible for me to walk away without chastising you, Matches? You know that language is forbidden to you, as are any books you might have used to learn it. [It’d be cruel to leave them around when they can’t even comprehend the language, after all.] Please, walk away. I will make it as if I had never seen you.

[ The fact that Kryptonians have the ability to decipher lies is precisely why Bruce has chosen to use the language to introduce himself as Matches. He has the ability to control his autonomic functions, of course, but he has only tested himself on machines instead of actual Kryptonian ears, and he's not taking any chances.

Not when this gamble is the biggest one he has taken. Has ever taken, really. Especially since he actually doesn't have much basis for taking it except for an instinctive hunch that reaches down to his guts and pulls him into the direction of this particular Kryptonian.

He had pulled the man's robes to get his attention so to test the effects of the green rock on a real Kryptonian. But now... well, if the resistance has a Kryptonian on their side, especially one as high as the House of El, it will be... favourable, to them.

Matches chuckles, the thin piece of wood bobbing between his teeth. He shakes his head. ]

I didn't learn from books. Just by listening.

[ Then, like quicksilver, his expression changes. The impudent grin fades away. Blue eyes narrow, and fingers pluck the match out of his mouth and twirls it between his fingers.

Then, this time, in guild-correct Kryptonian: ]

You're being far kinder than you should be. Why?

You lie.

[He is probably not. Kal-El cannot sense any lie, but it has to be. No human could learn Kryptonian merely by listening to them talk, that would imply an incredible amount intelligence. Then again no human is supposed to be able to learn Kryptonian at all and here he is, having a conversation with one. Where did his accent go? Why is he being proper now? Maybe he should grab this human and bring it to father, he’d know what to do.

Or maybe he’d be intercepted by someone in the house of Zod and forced to kill him. He finds the human annoying, but no enough to want to kill him. It’s illogical to be squeamish abou a deserved death, Kal-El knows that, but his mother always told him he had a bit of her on him and the Van have always been compassionate.]

If you do not stop lying I will have little choice but to punish you, Matches.

[ Compassionate despite himself, that's the conclusion Bruce has come to. Kal-El has been threatening to kill him - in fact, he has been doing nothing else but since Bruce pulled him down by his robes - and yet he hasn't done anything of the sort.

It's enough for him to take the final step.

He takes a step forward, letting Malone's filthy smile take over his lips. One hand rises, and fingertips brush over the air right above Kal's shoulder. ]

Sure. I won't mind if it's you.

[ Kryptonians, he knows, are more prudish about such overtures than the Victorians were. If nothing else, if it goes badly, Kal's shock would buy him enough time to go back to his first objective. ]

[Kal-El pushes the man away with calculated strength. Enough strength so he’ll be slammed against the floor and even lift some debris, but not strong enough to break any bones or permanently injure the man. That might be a mistake, he thinks to himself, but he’s never actively hurt a human before.

Sure, there were domestic humans around the house and he had to tug their leashes a time or two so they would know what was proper behavior. That was for their own good, and he tried not to hurt them much while doing it. This? This is different. Because he finds that he actually wants to hurt him and that’s a line he had never crossed before. Then again, no human had ever been so blatant towards him either. Is he a Cicisbeo? Is that how he learned the language?

He steps on the man’s chest so he can’t stand up.]

You have one chance to take it all back.

[ The slight push - barely a fraction of a Kryptonian's strength - has Bruce crashing backwards. He can stop the fall, of course; can drop and roll or even vault across the ground using the impact as leverage. But that will be giving himself away too much; that will make him dangerous in Kal-El's eyes and most likely break the fine thread of compassion that's keeping the man back.

Or is it compassion, really? Flat on his back, clothes covered by dust, Bruce blinks up to the Kryptonian. The foot on his chest makes it hard to breathe, but his vision isn't being compromised: he can see the slight dilation of those pupils even in this distance, and that is... unexpected.

Not the fact that someone would get aroused or excited from a display of their own dominance; that Bruce knows well enough. He has experienced it himself, though being on the receiving end leaves a bad taste in his mouth. But the idea that a Kryptonian would be viscerally attracted to a human instead of aesthetically appreciating their bodies and using them as sex toys... well, that is entirely new.

But something he can use.

He reaches out immediately, his hand closing over Kal-El's ankle. Slowly, he draws it upwards, following the Achilles's tendon up to the calf, nails scraping over smooth cloth. ]

I'm not taking it back. [ A drawl. And his smirk widens further. ]

Look at you. You're not touching soil, but you're definitely stepping on something that belongs to Earth.

[ Who is the one breaking the rules now? ]

[Kal-El kicks the man’s face, using the exact angle he needs to hurt as much as he can without breaking his nose, then steps on his face while stepping on his chest with his other feet now. He steps harder this time, making it difficult to breathe even though he’s being careful not to choke the man.

Truth is: he’s only stepping on Matche’s face to make him look away. He doesn’t want to see the look of alarm in Kal-El’s face at his touch. There was a jolt as his fingers ran up his skin, some sort of electricity that went straight to his groin and the El has never experienced anything like that before. He doesn’t know how to react to such clear, unabashed lust.]

You do not belong to Earth. You belong to me now. [Bold words, and he hadn’t been planning on saying them… but now that they are out he isn’t going to take them back. He knows no one will deny a request for a human to the heir of the science guild.

The jolt of electricity intensifies at the thought, and he can’t help but grin.]

[ Bruce's entire life runs upon logic. And, logically, he should feel anger and even hatred when Kal-El kicks at him, when he steps on him. But at the same time, he notices that the power is carefully controlled - he might have bruises on his face and chest, and breathing will hurt for a few hours or even days, but there's no permanent damage done.

Which is something else that's entirely unexpected. This control doesn't come easily to Kryptonians, Bruce knows, which means that Kal-El must be making an actual effort to hold himself back. Means that he actually doesn't want to hurt Bruce and that is a stronger connection than he has ever thought to hope for.

Searching for Kryptonite to start a guerilla war against a whole group of Kryptonians scattered throughout the Earth is starting to seem far less logical than worming his way into the House of El and bringing the Kryptonians down there. And if he has a chance to turn Kal-El himself to their side, well... that will be a hell of a feat. Not ensuring their victory, of course, but certainly increasing their chance for it.

It has, Bruce tells himself, nothing to do with the electricity running in his blood, buzzing in his veins, and making every breath come not just short and shallow but also quick into his lungs.

His hand clenches tighter on Kal-El's calf, nails digging into invulnerable skin and muscle through through. And his smirk is a twisted thing, full of teeth that gleams in the sunlight coming through the trees. ]

I've always wonder what it'll be like to be owned by a Kryptonian. [ The words are less of a drawl than a caress, every syllable stroked by his tongue before being released. ]

Especially a pretty one like you.

[There are not many curse words in Kryptonian, and Kal-El has never used the few ones there are. There are, however, inflections to express his disdain towards the person he’s talking to and since this careless ape seems to be able to understand his language he might as well make the most of it.

He hovers up so he can stand up. And so he isn’t touching him anymore, but the moment his fingers aren’t touching him anymore he already misses it. That could be dangerous, but it’s also intense and interesting and Kal-El might take after his mother’s family, but he also takes after his family.]

Do not call me pretty. You will refrain from complimenting me, I do not like it. [Which doesn’t even begin to express his feelings at being called that. but he latches onto anger because it’s easy, and to confusion because it makes sense. Why would he call him ‘pretty’, anyway? Has he never gotten the chance to look into a mirror? It feels cheap and untrue and he doesn’t feel like bringing that kind of thing into his house.

Which brings another problem: how the hell is he going to explain this to their parents? ‘Well, you see, he insulted me so I brought him into our house’?

…Actually, that might work for his father. If anyone would understand Kal-El’s curiosity it would be head of the house of El. Maybe his mother will try to kick some sense into his skull but if he has his father on his side she’ll end up rolling her eyes at the thick-headedness of the house of El as Jor laughs with love in his eyes.]

Who do you work for, Matches?

[ It's not a hollow or empty compliment. Bruce means those words: Kal-El is pretty. Beautiful, even, with that chiselled bone structure and aquiline nose, the full mouth, and those bright, unearthly blue eyes. Kryptonian eyes are stunning - even those with dark eyes seem to have captured stars along with light - and Bruce thinks wryly that if they hadn't come as conquerors and if they came a few centuries earlier, they would most likely be worshipped as gods.

Or feared as sirens. Or else how can Bruce explain the way his hand has turned cold the moment Kal-El's skin leaves his? How can he explain the way his body wants to arch forward, and his hand - now on the ground - twitches constantly from the need to reach out and pull Kal-El back down.

Fortunately, Kal-El decides to ask a question that makes Bruce laugh. It's a dark and coarse sound, half-Matches, half-Bruce, oil and shadow and darkness distilled together in his throat and transformed into sound with his breath. The pure opposite of the sun that gives Kryptonian their strength.

The match is in his pocket. Bruce draws it out, places it between his teeth. His grin is like a slash across his face, sharp and challenging, and there's lightning in his eyes. Wolf-blue, Alfred has murmured once, and Bruce knows he's showing more of himself than he should. But it's calculated, because...

Well, who knows the scion of the House of El, the heir of the science guild, has such a thing for danger and insults? ]

Now who's being insulting? I'm too much for any human to be their subordinate.

[ He tips his head up. Lowers his lashes, and widens his grin. ]

You afraid I might be too much for you too?

[Now that Matches is watching him Kal can’t allow himself to look alarmed, or even surprised, so with an herculean effort he simply raises an eyebrow to show his disapproval. That thing about not wanting to use the Kryptonian curse words? Yeah, this is the first time in his life where Kal has been tempted to do it.

The man in front of him is dangerous. It’s not just his words; it’s not that his brains are able to comprehend Kryptonian and thus a liability in certain circles. It’s something else, something in the way he carries himself. The way he looks at Kal. It’s his eyes, Kal decides. It’s something in his eyes and Kal feels he’s a piece of iron that’s been caught in their magnetic pole. ‘My man of steel’, Lara had jokingly called him the first time he’d used super strength… well, ferritic stainless steel is also drawn by magnets.]

I am afraid you might not have the manners needed to work for my house. I could easily find someone else and find another way to punish you. [He reaches for the Match, pulling it from his mouth and tossing it away.]

Maybe I mistook your arrogance for intelligence when it was simply stubbornness.

[ The fingers being so close to his mouth is just an invitation, neatly engraved: Bruce leans forward and nips at the tips. Kryptonian skin has always looked far too smooth, and they are the same to the touch as well - his teeth skims over the surface, and he wonders, briefly, if Kryptonians even have fingerprints.

That will be something interesting to figure out once Kal-El has him in his house. The problem now is, of course, getting him to rid himself of all those protests and doubts. To give in to the magnetic draw that pulls him to Bruce. (That Bruce himself can feel.)

He switches back to Kryptonian, guild-perfect: ]

Why can't it be both?

[ Turning his head, he looks at Kal-El through heavy-lidded eyes. ]

And would you rather have someone compliant? I didn't think your curiosity is that easily assauged.

[ Playing with fire. But Bruce has never been afraid of getting burnt. ]

[Kal slaps him with the back of his hand, eyes going red for a second as he does. Is it from anger, or is it because the man gets to him enough to turn him on? Does he want him to shut up, or to keep on talking to him like that? He isn’t sure, and for the first time in his life he doesn’t much care.

The strength behind the slap is, again, extremely controlled. Enough to push him to the ground, but no more. What is he waiting for, exactly? He isn’t sure, but he wants to see just how far the man is going to get.]

Do not speak to me as if you know me, Matches. [But in his insistence, he has made Kal realize something. He wants to belong to him, or perhaps simply the house of El.

Well, he can use that to his advantage.]

What could you offer me that I do not already posses?

[ Red eyes take warning, Bruce thinks. For a moment, he finds himself afraid that he has pushed Kal-El too far. Never trust a Kryptonian, after all. No matter how much his body is dragging him forward towards man; no matter how much he finds his fingers twitching from the lack of the Kryptonian's touch. What proof does he have at all that Kal-El isn't like the other cruel conquerors?

Nothing. Nothing except for the fact that Bruce is still breathing, still alive. That Bruce still has his vocal chords and eyes intact despite all that he has said and done. Nothing except the fact that he is still here instead of being dragged towards jail or execution.

He swallows back the fear. Lets the adrenaline take over as he grins, all bright defiance: ]

I can give you a challenge. [ His hand reaches out and he strokes it over the nearest spot of skin he can reach. ] A curiosity.

I'm talking to you like I know you already, Kal. [ Lascivious. Inviting. The word a caress on his tongue. ] Don't you want the ability to do the same?

[ This is becoming less of an advantage than sheer want. ]

[For the first time since this conversation started, Kal allows himself to look alarmed where Matches can see. Because he’s just used his name, and only his name. Only family and close friends should be allowed to have that honor, especially when it comes to someone from such an important family. He’s not just daring: he’s pretty sure he’s mad, at this point. He’s a liability, he’s dangerous and he’s going to get Kal punished somehow. He can think of a hundred reasons on why taking him under his wing and to his house is the worst idea he’s ever had, and only one reason why to do it.

Because he wants to.]

I want… [He hesitates. Hesitates! In front of a human! Matches had jokingly said before that maybe he was too much for him, and Kal had taken it as an insult. He’ll never tell the man, but he’s beginning to consider that he might have been right.

He shakes his head, frowning. The man gets to him. Kal is a logical Kryptonian, he can admit to himself that it’s mostly physical. But he’d never felt it before, not with this intensity, not for someone he just met and definitely not for a human. He’s at lost on what to do, but he knows if he just lets him go he’ll regret it all his life. So he admits defeat.]

I want you to behave in front of my family. If you do not, they will not be as forgiving as I am being.

[ Oh, Kal-El doesn't have to tell him: Bruce already knows. He can see it in the alarm in those eyes; can feel it from the heat of the gaze, the weight of the want that presses so deeply into him. And Bruce would crow over it; would be incredibly smug that he has snared a Kryptonian of such important standing, if he's not acutely aware of just how much he has been captured as well.

If Kal-El puts a collar on him - as is his right as the Kryptonian owner of a human slave - it will be absolutely nothing to the chains that those eyes have already wrapped around Bruce's very being.

Wryly, baldly, he thinks: I am so fucked. The only consolation is that this would be an aid to the mission; that Kal-El seems different from Zod and the rest, and this attraction-attachment between them would serve well in the rebels' cause.

He holds onto the thought of his purpose even as his blood rushes in his veins at the confirmation that Kal-El will take him. Holds onto it and lets himself be a little bolder, reaching out and grabbing the man by the wrist and pulling it close, pressing his lips to those smooth fingertips. ]

I know how to behave. [ The words are drawled. His eyes tempt Kal-El to call what surely seems like a bluff. ] I've got good manners, when I want to use them.

[He purses his lips, pulling the hand away with a stern look. He might feel a pull, he might feel pure electricity go through him when he’s touched by this human, but that doesn’t mean he has to be controlled by it. No, he’s lost the battle but he isn’t going to lose the war. Thing is, it isn’t even his attitude (while he likes his intelligence he finds the arrogance a bit annoying). It’s… something else, and since Kal can’t really put it into words he still tells himself it’s something to do with his eyes.]

I highly doubt that. But it doesn’t matter: if you misbehave you will be kicked out. [That is definitely not a bluff. His father might sigh and shake his head in disappointment at his inability to read people but no Kryptonian will be punished for the actions of his human. And he's sure Matches actually wants to belong to the house of El, so he hopes that will be enough to keep him in line. Part of him hopes it's him the one he wants to belong to, but he shuts it down fast.]

The moment you enter my house with me you will belong to me. From then on, you will behave in public. If you are so smart you must know what will happen to you if you do not.

[ Bruce is a better liar to himself: he can almost believe that it's simply Kal-El's eyes and the possibility of having such a high-ranking Kryptonian on the side of the rebellion that is drawing him to this man, this alien. But at the same time, he's good at sifting out lies, even within himself, and he knows that's not entirely it either. That's too logical, and this pull, this constant tug-drag within him, is anything but.

There's nothing logical about his aching need to belong to Kal-El within the first few minutes of meeting him. Especially when Bruce has always balked at the very thought of belonging to anyone.

The smirk softens into a smaller smile, and Bruce finally sits up, turning his head away from Kal-El as he starts to brush grass stains away from his clothes and hair. ]

Only in public? That's giving me quite a few liberties there, Kal. [ And the smirk comes back. ]

I'm not going to be rude, because, you see... [ he reaches out, hand brushing the air right above Kal-El's chest- ] I don't want to risk not belonging to you. Not when I've made so much effort to convince you.

[He reaches to grab Matches’s wrist, trying and failing not to grin. Dealing with this situation is easier if he doesn’t lie to himself: now that he is getting what he wants he can stop pretending. It’s kind of a relief that Matches seems to be as willing to belong to Kal as Kal is to have him, he doesn’t know what he would have done if he hadn’t wanted it.

He’d say he’d look for someone like Matches, but he already knows there isn’t anyone like him.]

I believe we are still in public. If you have to get your belongings and say your goodbyes feel free to do so, I will wait here.

[ No, there isn't anyone like Matches Malone, because he doesn't really exist. There's no one like Bruce either, nothing like the man who has spent his life escaping being recorded and given papers and yet able to slip out of situations where anyone else would be arrested easily.

He wonders if Kal-El will ever be able to deal with him. He doubts it. And that's a triumph, isn't it? To have a way into a high Kryptonian house while keeping his own secrets.

Reaching out, he trails his fingertip above Kal-El's lips. ]

I don't have anything to bring with me. [ He gives an expansive shrug, spreading out his hands. ] All you'll get is me.

[ And that's what you want, isn't it? ]

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