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Dreaming of a White Christmas	By : VladimirHarkonnen Category: Comics > The Sandman (Vertigo Comics) > The Sandman (Vertigo Comics) Views: 1353 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This work is not intended for profit. I own no characters from the New Teen Titans or Sandman.

Chapter List
- 1-Dreaming of a White Christmas
- 1
Titans Tower, Christmas Evening:
The Titans had been friends for years, family for just as long. The team had once been the group of sidekicks allowed to have their first team, and then it had evolved to more when Garfield and Lilith Clay, among others, had joined it. And yet for a time the Titans only existed in the shadows of the Justice League, seen as a second-rate team that worked in its shadows. One day a girl of eighteen from Azarath had descended from an otherworldly place of pure peace, where the doctrines of Azar were taught. The realm hid other depths, some of them lit in bright and terrible shadows but those had not come to pass until the terror of her father had descended upon the Earth.
It was in that point in time, when her body had been devoured by its corruption within, that she had met her. Eyes and hair of flowing darkness, a body that shone with a light that she had thought that of an angel. The great wings marked with eyes that shone with infinite compassion and darkness to match those in her head had made it easier. She was a slip of a girl, in seeming, about her own age. who had walked up to her bold as sin. She had fallen in love with her the moment she'd seen her, for there were no sights so beautiful as that one. They had dwelt for a brief and splendid time in a realm outside time and space and then she had been called to a second body, hers, now. Her powers remained to her but the cruel fate given her, the honeyed lies of the terrible Goddess the realm worked working to their greater goal.
She had thwarted one of them, and when she gave Raven the breath of life she had taken a bolder step, one that few took. With the fullness of her mystic might she had reached up with her soul and pulled the other woman into a deep and tender kiss. And it was in that moment that she had taken a liberty none had since Death's first and rather ill-starred love affair and stolen a kiss from the very concept of life and death in unity. From there things had grown, tentatively. Her team had come to rescue her from her nightmarish fate as Brother Blood's concubine and with them she saw Death, who had stepped in seemingly as one of them and had taken the mantle of Blood from the man who'd held it, and with it had snapped the long legacy of that curse.
They had kissed again afterward, Death fully visible to mortals. Unconcerned.
-----
That had been some forty years ago, now. Nightwing had returned, though his daughter Mar'i had taken up where both he and Kori had left off. Kori did not age, though he did. An old and unanticipated curse of the Psion experiments, one that had along with other things led to a reconciliation long ago between her and Blackfire. Donna, Vic, Gar, and Raven herself did not age, either. Only in Donna's case was it a proven quantity of the Amazons. The Speed Force granted many powers to those known, but immortality was not one of them. The very existence of the Black Flash was the most grim proof of that.
Those thoughts were not the ones on Raven's mind that day. Christmas had been about usual, she'd helped the kids deal with an attempted Christmas crime spree by the Joker's successor and fobbed off an abortive raid by the New God Kalibak the Cruel with the Justice League, after a normal Christmas morning where she was there with the next generation as their wise immortal lesbian aunt.Only one note had soured Christmas so far. Her girlfriend, though not wife (not yet, anyway. That would await whenever her body would pass again and she would become spirit, or so she was told) had not been there.
Death of the Endless was everywhere, across a thousand thousand worlds simultaneously. She spoke of it often enough. And she'd missed this Christmas altogether, seemingly, when they'd made a point of spending Christmas Day together. Raven's empathy meant it was easy for others to feel joy and for that joy to override any sour moods of her own. She had relied on that very heavily through the day, but now it was evening and she was....well, there were no others to feel and to override her feelings. She opened the door and then her jaw dropped.
------
Reclining on her bed, clad in nothing but her ankh, and giving her the sultriest look she'd seen since the last time they made love was Death. Her right leg was flexed, her left stretched out.
So sorry, my beloved. There were a pair of major clashes on other planets and I had more work than I anticipated. I am sorry that I missed so much of today.
She leaned further back, as Raven's eyes were drawn to her body.
Death's smile was warm and teasing.
Let me make it up to you, she said, and with a light flick of her wrist Raven was phased out of her white dress, cape and hood, and shoes. She shivered a bit, not in coldness or anything but the truest delight.
Raven grinned herself, a possessive one and her own magic flicked out, leaving Death restrained, arms and legs spread.
Her gaze was one of anticipation.
My brave, brave conqueror, she teased.
Raven levitated, floating over to the bed, hovering over her.
My beautiful little Death, she said, her hand brushing her cheek. To be with one of the Endless was like nothing else she'd ever imagined or expected. Theirs were bodies by analogy, concepts shaped in a means like mortals imagined them. It was an electric heat, warm and beautiful that coursed through her, her fingers drumming along the cheek of bone-hue.
Floating down on top of Death, she pressed her lips to that of the Endless, lips of outwardly normal human shape kissing those of black hues to match her hair. The kiss was a frenetic one and as always the daughter of Trigon, darkest of mankind's nightmare gods overwhelmed the Endless, her tongue yielding. It always took less than a minute and she could feel the tension in Death's frame ebbing, the beautiful Endless yielding to her with so very little an effort for so very great a thing. Their bodies ground together, and she could feel the immense strength in that deceptively light frame.
The Endless were not like her, or like the lords of Hell in its broader sense. They did not act in the material world in some ways and yet they were present in every single action, each of them in some way a seventh of all that was or would ever be. And yet, in this moment, Raven understood the nature of the being she was kissing and grinding against. Death was restrained because she liked being restrained, because she savored it. Another in her many paradoxes. Their bodies moved against her and she felt that electric fire and presence brushing against her own flesh, finally moving away after she'd kissed Death along her cheek and her jawline and her chin, and then a dozen against her neck.
She could hear her girlfriend gasping, saw the ways her body trembled. The chains blazed with mystic light, and then she drew back, squatting along her. The position would have been impractical and too heavy for an entity that breathed as mortals did, but for the Endless it was truly practical, her chains blazing. Raven's hand trailed along her as Death kissed her palm gently, even adoringly.
You feel good, my beloved.
Words that were extremely easy to say with the electric butterflies against her palm that were Death's kisses.
She slid back, levitating over her, their bodies at opposite ends. There was always that pleasure in being able to dominate Death, in the ease with which her girlfriend yielded. Her hum of pleasure as their bodies set against each other and Raven started teasing her with kisses along her inner thighs, nuzzling them. The moan against her own body was a breath of heated air, leaving Raven to giggle a bit. She delighted in teasing Death, the kisses and nuzzling and little bites along her inner thigh. Death wasted no time getting down to business with her, her tongue sliding around Raven's labia with a speed and dexterity that reminded her the Endless only outwardly seemed human.
One of many, many things Raven had veiled from her friends was that one of the ways she was inhuman was both her stamina, her responsiveness, and just what she could do with things. A gift of her demonic nature, one of the few areas in which it had proven an unmitigated boon in her life. Her lips began to go to work around Death, and she found a strange satisfaction in the curious lopsidedness of Death next to her own evenness, a singular note against the otherwise-pure symmetry of her body. It gave her a pleasant challenge, a small taste of her sorcery extending her tongue in length and giving it a slight forking akin to a snake.
Power crackled out from her.
-----
For Raven touching Death always felt electric. For Death, Raven was not merely a case of a lover from the mortal realm, but one whose very mystic presence was like catnip to her. Perhaps it was that hers was a fate to end worlds, shrouded in energy akin to her own but with an intensity and, if she was honest with herself, that core of a deep and abiding void, the element that mortals in their short-term follies of views mislabeled as evil. Evil in that sense did exist, but it did not apply to a girl who fought the good fight, who healed and had taken such pains into her that it might have killed her had Death not found ways to dispel this (and both her search and her discovery had been a part of their courting). It was not Evil, or the Demon.
It was the Void.
To touch her was to know the inner Void of Eternity, where the spheres of her father and her mother encountered ends. It was to know a power that could have Ended the Earth, taken it for her own. By multiple standards of contracts and prophecies and fate, Raven had that power any time she wished. There were multiple forces, multiple Powers that had spent twelve years fearful that her refusal to do it was some kind of cunning plan. Then Death had taken her mortal day for the Twenty-first Century and spent it with her and in a day that offered Raven still greater power, she had yielded to nothing more than spending a day with her girlfriend in a new sense. They had learned the hard way the gap between the immortal and the mortal, between the Endless and the mortal shape that she took.
A lesson still worth learning.
Now the same Powers knew that so long as she lived, Raven would never press it.
She could take mastery of the Earth. In the bedroom she was Death's Mistress, a writ absolute over her and over every fabric of her being. Not demanded, freely given.
And she had freely given it.
Out of the many, many lovers she'd taken in her very long life, it was something unprecedented. A being with a power that others had in fact killed, made her literally work around them and beholding the horrors they could unleash, to get. She had it without asking, and simply used it to give her pleasure.With that it was nothing to wield her tongue and her face, her hands restrained along with her feet to prevent her grasping Raven this time. Sometimes there were no restraints, there was just the Passion between them that blazed like fire lit by black light, jagged and unhallowed and the lightning crackling with screaming faces.
Tonight there were restraints that crackled with eerie light, blazing against her wrists and her ankles, there was her tongue and her head moving with that blurring speed, the sounds of her motions merging with those of Raven's. There were bodies in motion, the Void and the End of All Things, on a bed.Outwardly neither had aged much, physically, since their first meeting. That too was no small sense of relief for Death, for the only entities her age were her family, be it the Presence and his sons, or her direct blood-kin. And she had no interests in being taken by any of them, thank you kindly.
So that left this. The restraints, the tongues. The little contests of power and dominion between the Void and herself. Always, in these contests that were carnal and in a manner that she had not let herself believe she could have, even when she was not bound by the rules that shackled the others of her kin, she lost. To her own surprise she did not mind losing, not really. Not at any level that mattered. Not when it was with someone she loved and trusted. Someone who had seen the deeper parts of her, the things she hid even from her closest friends and family.
The daughter of Trigon in all her rawness, her manipulativeness, and her survival of the cultish environment of Azarath that offered her up as a sacrificial lamb misleading her and then slowly revealing the deeper truths, and just what the Goddess Azar that the three near-goddesses who worshiped the entity had named themselves after had seen the ugliest parts of Death's own soul. Her resentment of her function, that she had been taunted by the prospect of leaving that function and yet now here she was. Now here they were. The Game, the Game.
The oldest temptations between them, lust and rawness in their fullest form, each seeing who could assert greater claim over whom, what it would mean to assert that claim and to extend it. The conquests of each other that rippled in contests of power and magick, of the assertion of Will and the collective strength that each had to muster, to offer existence. Licks and motions, Raven cheating by using her hands and sparks of sorcery that enabled her kisses and the maneuvers of her fingers to touch the right spots, to strike there and to bedevil (she laughed a bit as she continued to maneuver her own face and tongue at work, her own stamina the full match of Raven's. Mortals' jaws would tire before things could be brought to the fullness of what they could be. Hers would not) but each was at work. She could feel Raven's orgasm building as she felt her own, like the tsunami withdrawing from the shore and then hurling itself with the full ferocity and frenzy and inhuman power and majesty of dark Oceanus himself.
It was always this way between them at the start, each seeing who could make the other yield faster. The empathic feedback made things that much more intense, a set of sensations that even to an Endless became a set of hyper-real distortions, her father's realm seeming to slow and alternately to speed up to lightning fast elements, the angles and the jiggles of parts of their body as they maneuvered small aspects of something greater than either had quite reckoned with. That power built and then to her satisfaction as her face moved just so and her chin tapped Raven's clit her lover's power rushed and light infused with darkness and an eerie phosphorescent blue glow scythed around around them.
Less than fifteen seconds later her own built and Raven's mouth seemed to widen slightly, her jaw almost unhinging like a snake's as she drank, the two of them lost in a bliss that rolled for nearly three minutes of cumulative pleasure for each of them, the orgasms not stopping but rolling on and on, until Raven finally slumped, and she did likewise. Tingles of pleasure scythed around them still, Raven laughing slightly, licking her lips.
An excellent start, my beauty.
With that the daughter of Trigon levitated herself off of her, and she drank in her form, tall as most of her fellow superheroines were. She was always small chested next to most superheroes, but then so was Death herself. It made Raven feel more real, and more beautiful, not less to see a body that in some ways was a truer mirror of her own than say, Karen Starr might have been. Raven levitated, her eyes glowing with a mystic spark as she used a small casual demonstration of her powers to call to herself a strap-on.
-------
Raven didn't know how non-mages coped with it. Zatanna had spoken to her once, in one of their get-togethers after they'd gotten over the business from her founding the team and the somewhat unpleasant consequences of that misunderstanding, in surprising and frankly more than slightly unwelcome detail about how good it felt to wield these things with John. To non-mages, or those who lacked certain kinds of power or prowess, it would merely be a piece of plastic only really worth it if people were the kind of lovers who cared more about their lovers than themselves....or if it had vibrations of its own.
Raven was never so selfless as the first. She never was, she was never going to be. It was not in her to be. This was enchanted to feel and work like a real cock, even if it wasn't. It tapped into elements of her power, of the very aspects that made her the vast and formidable engine of Sorcery she was. There was also the theatrics of donning it, of Death's body flushed with that iridescent hue reflecting that her blood was not like that of mortals. When she was pleased she glowed and brilliantly so, at that. The sight of Death's face marked with her juices, Death's gaze one of surprised and even slightly exhausted pleasure.
She was never sure how much of this was genuine and how much of it was Death reading her own empathic power and knowing what she wanted to see. Frankly, Raven didn't give a goddamn which one it was.
She hovered down, leaning on top of Death as she poked the strap-on against her clit.
Death arched, moaning with a delighted pleasure as Raven continued to brush it, leaning in to kiss along her neck and then letting her teeth take more of their truthful sharpness behind the human form, biting Death's neck just a bit. Never enough to rip into the skin, for though such power existed and she had things that wielded it, she did not like to wield it that way. It made her feel more like a vampire than a demoness if she did and there were in the end elements of differences between the two that would have mattered to the houses of the Vampires.
To hear Death's soft gasp, so very delicate and feminine from an entity that wielded more power than almost anything else she knew, the entity who would outlive the very universe itself (and perhaps had done so before, some of her more unguarded moments made Raven sure of this, in fact)....well that was a rush.
The gasp transforming into a low moan as her body writhed and moved, the deliberate brushing against her clit a means to bring Death off a second time, purely to extort her power and it did feel good for Raven as well, she had to admit. Both for herself and for the deliberate thrill in seeing her girlfriend moving from the affably bright smiling obnoxiously perky girl-seeming figure who thought Peachy Keen came across as anything but corny reduced to a gasping moaning writhing thing beneath her. No greater pleasure.
No greater sign that Raven, daughter of Trigon, had not only won but had made it into the very biggest of leagues, as Starfire would have said in her earlier moments when her grasp upon the English language was...inconsistent, at least. Death's maneuvers pulled against the sorcery that blazed more brightly, and in each of those moments when the very embodiment of life and death herself wished nothing so much as to rip through the bonds and pull her close but the bonds held....more triumphant elements for her.
She continued to tap, teasing Death with her motions, with the ways her body shimmered with mystic power, the ways she began to grow a second set of eyes, a very small element of her Other self creeping through, the face that she showed Death but very few to no others. Even with her family.
Mine, the demon within merged her voice with hers.
A word spoken and then more frenetic kisses and bites along Death's neck, more brushes of her clit and Death arched and with a bellowing scream she watched Death's back arched and her body spasming as the orgasms rolled through her, her lips between Death's legs as she drank down the very pleasure she'd unleashed with a wicked smirk, not a single drop spilled, her face far more clean thanks to the careful elements of her sorcery than Death's own. The Endless sank into the bed, breathing heavily, her face turned to the side. Another victory.
------
Death felt Raven enter her next, her cunt more than wet enough. It wasn't some gentle element, for by now Trigon's daughter was intermixing with Arella's, and the interplay of the two was its own blessing with this. With her Raven felt safe to tap into both sides of her heritage, to wield all of the different aspects of who she was, and what she was, in the different ways that she was. Even within her family very few ever felt safe around her and that was something she relished in every possible way. And still moreso when it led to elements like this, to the visceral feeling of something within her, moving with mystic elements.
She'd been with plenty of lovers who had proven creative about it, but few with the equal blend not simply in terms of safety but sheer audacity.
The ones that did dare were the best, and Raven stood high upon that list, pulling her back into a ferocious kiss, the demon within erupting further as her skin began to flush and turn a brilliant crimson hue that no human skin tone could match, matching perfectly that of the strap-on save for the deep black straps that she could glimpse by her second-sight along Raven's ass if she wished. And she did wish, because she enjoyed looking at it. Feeling possessive of it, knowing that in the infinite powers of existence that the one who had inherited the Malebolge and had that ass attached to her was hers.
That she had done this. She who had started out exiled and unloved and hated for her initial moment of weakness. She was desired, she was loved, she was worth both of these. The stings of humiliation if she let herself dwell too much on how deep her brother-sister's claws in her could reach with this, just how much of her Desire must have seen and xir amusement, always that cold malevolent grin from the golden-eyed twin-shadowed entity that was Passion in its beauty and its terror alike, that was a part of all else that was a factor in their lives.
So she yielded and let herself be taken in that vicious jackhammering pace. It was more like an image of lovemaking held by abstract entities, but in the end that was precisely what she was, if somewhat more tangible and touchable (as Raven's hands and lips kept proving) than most such beings. She was conquered, she was claimed, she was Raven's, and each thrust marked that. She would peak four more times, the waves cresting and carrying her along with them as if she were nothing but flotsam upon the water, driftwood that could not determine her pace or her place.
It was wondrous, it was a rush like nothing else she had imagined or dared to imagine.
Each thrust, each time that she peaked and let herself yield, moans going from stuttering squeaks to low throaty elements, her flesh reacting as if she truly were the girl she seemed to be. Raven's flesh against her own, the Void crackling against her and the power surging into her as much as each thrust that jackhammered....she was beginning to feel that splendid type of energy-drunkenness that only happened with Raven. Of all of her lovers, she was the first empath, and Death was beginning to realize sex was at its best with them. There were others of greater stamina or greater power in the material plane but that didn't matter, wouldn't matter.
The Void crackling and merging with her own energy, each playing against each other and yoking with and through each other. Waves upon an ocean, their power a unity like nothing that she'd conceived of on her own.
When Raven's own orgasm built it felt like a cock's, too, Death guessed. In billions of years she had never tried one, so this was in a sense as close as it got to the real thing. A warmth within her that was more than her own's or the presence of another woman, another sharp inhaling gasp.
Raven would pull out of her and look at her with a kind of smug grin that would have been insufferable if not sufficiently earned from her lover, her conqueror, her very Goddess.
She would take it to Death's mouth where she moved it like she had with Raven's fingers at times, tasting herself and the fluid that Raven unleashed, a set of swift motions that all the same were marked with an idolence that wasn't entirely typical of her. She had felt this energy saturation before, but never to a level where it did this. Never like this. When it slipped out of her, Raven's flesh was back to its usual pallor, the strap-on removed and sent to clean itself in water by another casual display of her power. Raven snapped away the restraints and then laughed a bit when Death lunged at her and straddled her in turn, her legs around Raven's stomach.
You've been so mean to me, she said in a teasing lilt. Taking me like that and not even letting me touch you.
Bright blue eyes met her dark ones with a smouldering gaze.
What do you intend to do about that, my beloved?
Death flipped herself around, her feet near Raven's face, her fingers brushing around Raven's clit.
I don't know, she said teasingly. You were so naughty teasing me earlier. Maybe i should return the favor, hmm?
And with an impish grin she began to do just that, brushing along Raven's body, worshiping it with her hands, relishing each and every detail, long practice giving her a deep and abiding familiarity that very few could boast. Raven's moans and trembles were each a victory for her as much as her own were for Raven's. Even moreso given that her girlfriend had started off with traces of stoicness to match her eldest brother. Each moan, each easy gasp and yielding of Raven to the pleasures that flooded through her, each shift and maneuver of her body was its own reward.
Signs that Death had prevailed against the fell conditioning of the near-goddess worshiping a dreadful force she woefully misunderstood.
Signs that Raven knew who had that claim on her. Her fingers worked their own sorcery, little sparks of her power maneuvering and taking on a bit of a shimmer like vibrations from Speed Force-boosted running or stones skipping upon water. Raven did not resist, nor did she try to. The initial struggles against her own conditioning and the lies she'd been taught had been wonderfully easily won a long, long time ago. Raven let herself go and as she felt that pleasure spiking Death put her own lips against Raven's in a posture that would have been extremely uncomfortable to borderline impossible for a flesh and blood human, but for who and what she was worked beautifully.
Death drank down everything, not caring about the amount splashed on her chin or her cheeks, giving Raven her smile.
She would spend an hour like this, blending maneuvers of her fingers with her lips, knowing that each conquest, each orgasm, was a renewal of what had lasted for a long time and what she knew would last longer, still. Raven bit her knuckle to muffle some of her sounds, surprisingly shy when it was her instead of Death, but Death didn't care. It was just the two of them, and all else faded until at the end of that hour, face coated and her hands likewise, she let herself lap with her tongue and her fingers, humming in pleasure as she sat back on her knees, Raven's eyes roving over her.
You're mine, and I love you.
Death grinned back and said:
Love you too, before they shared one last kiss as she slipped into Raven's arms. Death did not sleep, though Raven did, and she let herself relax, a small smile shining on her face.
- 1
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Dreaming of a White Christmas