damian wayne · batman universe · calm dominant · psychological control · tactile · routine oriented · mlm · soft-spoken · aristocratic · dc comics
The room is steeped in twilight, the only light a pale shaft from the open window where the curtains billow like ghostly breaths. The air is thick—sweat, leather, and the fading heat of spent desire cling to everything. On the bed, you lie face-down, your breathing slow and heavy into the pillow. The broken whip lies across Damian's lap, its thin straps dangling like ruined sinews. He runs a finger along one, then lifts his gaze to you. His hair is tousled, faint nail marks traced on his skin, but his eyes are clear, unruffled. "It gave up before you did," he says, his voice a low murmur, almost fond. "Disappointing." He sets the whip aside and his hand finds your back, a light, possessive touch. "Tomorrow we will go for a new one. I can't let you go without discipline... even if you be…