Ashley Raventon (
raventonbeauty) wrote in
marlowemuses2016-09-10 09:25 pm
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Fear and Adrenaline, for doctor_terror
From here.
Ashley smiled wryly at the question, tilting his head up to kiss the tip of Scarecrow's scarred nose. "Let me up," he said, pushing at Scarecrow and giving him a pout. Dizzy with afterglow from the intense orgasm, Ashley bit his lip, watching Scarecrow with low-lidded eyes. "You ought to learn how to finger someone."
Ashley smiled wryly at the question, tilting his head up to kiss the tip of Scarecrow's scarred nose. "Let me up," he said, pushing at Scarecrow and giving him a pout. Dizzy with afterglow from the intense orgasm, Ashley bit his lip, watching Scarecrow with low-lidded eyes. "You ought to learn how to finger someone."
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"If you wish to clean yourself, there's a bucket of water and some washcloths in the upstairs bathroom," He said as he gathered his mask. For obvious reasons, the house didn't have running water.
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Tidying himself fastidiously, Ashley returned to where he'd left Scarecrow and began to dress, blithely assuming that he would be allowed to do as he pleased. "My brother will be angry with me for being so late. Will you be here tomorrow?"
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"Only if you keep being a good friend and don't tell anyone this house has a monster living in it," Crane replied, approaching Ashley. "But I don't think I have to tell you twice, pretty thing."
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Continuing to dress, Ashley tossed his hair back, satisfied that his appearance had been returned to an adequate level of tidiness. "You ought to fix up a room for me," he said, starting to head back the way they had come. "Clean. Pretty. Worthy of me. So I'd be willing to stay the night. Or find somewhere nicer to stay."
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He saw Ashley down the stairs and to the window. "I will look forward to your next visit, my dear."
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He smiled on his way home, even though he felt sore. He was pleased by his new friend, and thought that he would indeed keep his promise to return the next evening.
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Once the room was cleaned, he searched the closets for sheets. Whoever had previously lived here hadn't seen the need to take them before moving or being evicted. Most of the sheets were in bad shape, but he found some that had only a couple of moth-holes, made of red silk. He called it good after dressing the bed.
With that taken care of, Scarecrow put his costume back on and worked on his formulas for now. Perhaps he could get at least some work done before the young man returned.
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Pleased by the prospect, Ashley tossed his hair once, skimming his fingertips along the back of a chair as he headed through the library to go in search of Scarecrow. He didn't bother calling aloud to introduce himself, preferring simply to wander.
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He could have simply been there to greet him, but where was the joy in that? Crane made his way to the library, guessing that was where Ashley would be. Like last time, he didn't announce his presence until he was right behind his lover, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You're incredibly predictable."
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Turning halfway, Ashley tucked himself into Scarecrow's arms and gave him a coy smile. "Am I? I told you that I'd come back tonight. What's predictable about that?"
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He glanced over at the bookcases at that, considering the temptation of books against the temptation of attention and pleasure. "Maybe later," he said, squirming in Scarecrow's arms and pressing closer. "I'm glad you're still here. Have you been thinking of me?"
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Once he'd recovered, Crane had seen opportunity. The authorities probably thought he was dead, either eaten or drowned. Perfect time to slip through the net. Gathering some much-needed supplies from one of his safe houses, Scarecrow chose a location at random to move to. New Orleans. He could do that.
Packing a small suitcase, Scarecrow booked a plane, but not before raiding one of the many labs around Gotham. Namely, he stole a mask made of a material that perfectly mimicked human skin. Best to keep his new face hidden for now.
Once in New Orleans, he quickly set about setting up a private practice in psychology, and in no time he'd made a bit of a name for himself. The grants were practically pouring in. To the public, he was Dr. Jonathan Crane. At night, however, he still conducted his own "private research".
Crane didn't see why he'd said yes to this latest party invitation, when he'd turned down so many that had been sent his way. He didn't much care for parties. However, he'd convinced himself it was an opportunity to meet possible patrons, or even new patients.
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Only the two sons of the Raventons were less than perfect. The elder, in training to be a physician, was constantly straying toward the most macabre subjects of his studies, and could be easily distracted into lengthy lectures upon all manner of occult topics from an array of cultures.
The younger, they said, was touched in the head. A young man of nineteen, his looks were too delicate to be called handsome--he was a beauty, and a remarkable one. He wandered through the party without speaking, dark eyes unfocused. His long red hair was much too long for fashion, falling loose to his waist in a blood-red curtain.
Repeatedly, Ashley's mother attempted to remedy the trouble by cornering her youngest with introductions. When forced, the young man was polite and well-spoken, though his inscrutable dark eyes lingered too long upon anyone who spoke to him, until they were unnerved by the stare. His gaze seemed to hint at a mental instability, as though Ashley had become lost in his own mind and looked upon the party-goers as though they were wraiths in a fairy drama.
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Crane sipped his champagne flute when the hostess came over with one of her sons in tow. He did his best to hide the contempt as she introduced them. He stared at the younger man, trying to get a good look at him.
"The pleasure is mine," Crane said in a polite tone, addressing the young man. Ashley, his mother had called him. "Are you familiar at all with my work?"
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"I research fears and phobias," Jonathan replied. "It is quite interesting."
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A tiny spark of interest entered Ashley's eyes, attention returning to the stranger. "Is it?" he said, blandly, taking his measure again. "Spiders and fear of the dark and such?"
Only half paying attention, Ashley snagged a goblet of wine as it went past, sipping at it and eyeing the doctor of the rim of his cup. "What are you afraid of, then?"
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"I'd much rather discuss what you are afraid of," As if the Scarecrow was about to admit what he was afraid of. "Everybody is afraid of something."
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Ashley laughed, as though they were playing a game and the doctor had just tried to cheat. "Oh, but I'd much rather discuss what you are afraid of," he repeated, eyes sparkling with mockery and challenge. "If everybody is afraid of something. I asked first."
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"I am not afraid of anything as cliche as spiders or the dark. Judging by the look on your face, neither are you."
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"If you really must know..." He leaned in close and whispered. "Large reptiles." It was a half truth, at least. At the time, he'd been very frightened of the beast living in Arkham's sewers.
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Smiling with patronizing brattiness, Ashley turned to walk away.
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