Demons (Damirae)

Chapter Thirty-One

Another bead of sweat rolled down her forehead, but still, Raven persisted, transitioning between each martial form with the rhythm of a prima ballerina and tempo of a viper. Spinning and striking left, right and centre, she danced, feet mute against the wooden floorboards.

Each move imprinted in her brain and muscles, she performed with ease, the actions instinctive. Amidst spin-hooking kicks, flying side-kicks and the likes, she would fall in to a variety of stances, each tailored to put maximum power in to the next assault: some crouched low; others at full height. A plethora of guarding-blocks and knife-hands completed the intricate pattern of the martial dance.

Panting heavily, Raven remained in her last position for a few seconds, feet wide apart pointing to the side, left arm in a high block, right arm barring her mid-section, head forwards. Precisely five seconds passed until she dropped her arms to her side, relaxing her posture.

Rolling her shoulders backwards, Raven worked towards unwinding her muscles, breathing still laboured. Pulling a knee up to her chest and holding it for a few seconds, Raven contemplated last night's events (something she had been postponing because she "needed to concentrate on her technique" *cough* bullshit *cough*).

There was no denying it, she had more than kissed Damian. And it was genuinely wonderful. But how would they move on from there?

One thing she was absolutely certain of, however, was that they would wake sure that, until they new what they were, nobody else should know. Besides, Raven and Damian would never hear the end of it from Dick- he'd shout it from the roof of the Manor, leak it to the Justice League, post it on every form of social media available to man and so much worse.

Raven suppressed a shudder at the thought.

No. Dick was NOT going to be hearing off this.

Running a hand through her hair, Raven sighed: a shower seemed like a bloody good idea; then the usual half-an-hour of meditation; and finally, the regular morning tea with Damian.

The corner of her lips lifted at the thought of him a few hours ago.

Dam, he isn't joking when he brags about 'many talents'.

(A.N: All the PJO fans die because DAM)

***

Damian slipped in to the chair besides Raven, cradling Alfred the cat in his arms.

Passing him a cup of tea with a light smile was the only acknowledgement Raven made to him, just as usual. Nodding his head in thanks, Damian set the cat down on the counter, receiving an insulted 'meow', and raised the cup to his lips, pausing.

Raven shook her head in mirth, "Brown sugar instead of white, a china cup and I've already added the lemon. I'm not going to poison you..."

He took a sip.

"...yet."

Almost choking, Damian put the cup down, taking a serviette and using it to wipe the tea spillage.

Cleaning the drops on the counter, he coughed, "What... the ... fuck?!"

Unable to control herself, Raven let out a peal of laughter, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Sorry... couldn't... resist!", she said between chortles.

Once the mess had been cleared up and the coughing came to an end, Damian turned to Raven with venom in his eyes.

"You are a cruel, cruel person. Do you enjoy watching my suffering? Does me nearly choking to death amuse you? Despicable."

Playing along with his dramatics, Raven proclaimed, "Oh, my sincerest apologies! I shall be sure never to jest in your presence again, your royal idiocy. And whilst I'm at it, I'll be sure to practice my curtesy."