Dedicated to Bright Nova! You're right – I do have a fascination with her legs! He does too!
This story helped out by the amazing Lavender Gaia. I miss you!
Un-betaed. Please email me with any mistakes. Thanks!
One-shot. Well, knowing my history, at least for now. (smiles)
"She's got legs! She knows how to use them…She's my baby/Yeah, it's alright!" – ZZ Top
She was six feet tall and there were days that he could swear that all of it was leg. Certainly the outfit did little to prevent that type of thought, what with the star spangled panties and the dominatrix boots that spelled out clearly that she was the type of woman who thrived on action and adventure.
After all, that was what being Wonder Woman was all about, action and adventure. And over the years, the entire Justice League had certainly had their share.
And he'd developed an overwhelming fascination with her legs.
He wasn't quite sure when it had started, whether it was at first glance when he'd seen the miles of shapely and smooth skin that had been exposed from the red boots that had clung to her calves all the way thigh high, or perhaps even when she'd ripped off the lower half of her dress in a ballroom in Paris, revealing the long, soft length that had played havoc with his mind and his dreams for weeks afterwards.
There were nights were all he could think about were those legs - the length, the shape, the way that they just seemed to lead his eyes higher and higher until finally he could take in the rest of her beauty as well. She had a form that was designed to let a man's eyes linger; to practically force a man to step back and take a second glance.
It wasn't in him to admit to either a fault or a weakness, but that didn't mean that he could control the dreams that shook him at night, the restless moments where he pondered all the what-ifs, all the questions and desires he had about those legs. He wanted them wrapped around his waist in a heated frenzy of desire, wanted them tangled up in his as they dozed on sun-warmed sheets, wanted them curled next to him as they sat in relative peace or flew the Javelin towards the next mission, intent on saving the world.
If he was honest with himself, he would admit that he wanted the whole package – the brains and beauty – but he was willing to content himself with fantasies about those legs.
He had analyzed it repeatedly, but he couldn't quite understand his fascination with her legs, except, perhaps, that they were always there, in view, in memory, just like her smile. She haunted his dreams in a way that no one had before and he wasn't sure that he was entirely ready to handle either his desires or the concept of introducing her to his preoccupation with her legs.
She was beauty incarnate and he was a man of the shadows, hiding in the darkness watching as she doused the world with her smile, drowning all those she met with her light and the goodness that was simply a part of not only the Wonder Woman mantle, but Diana herself.
Shaking himself from his reverie, he looked around the Watchtower and wondered where the time had gone, wondered how he had let himself get in such a state about her legs, about Diana, once again. He was supposed to be on Monitor Duty, but had somehow gotten sucked into his fantasy yet again, daydreaming like a lovesick puppy over his beautiful teammate.
He almost sneered at himself in disgust, but at the last second, managed to contain his lip from quivering, from releasing that movement and reverting away from his stoic façade, the typical and persistent face of the Batman to the world. Looking down at his hands, he was almost amazed to see the faint quiver that beguiled his hands, the desire that rode him to get out of the chair manning the station and head down the hall towards the personal quarters. To a specific personal quarter.
But he braced himself against the temptation and leaned back in the chair, eyes devouring the screens as he sought to center his focus and concentration on something other than Diana and her amazing legs.
And suddenly, there in his direct line of view were the legs that he had spent so many sweat soaked nights dreaming of, the skin unblemished and the curve of her knee and calf practically begging his hands to reach out and skim the length.
Clenching his fists so tightly he could feel the blood slowly draining from his fingers, he slowly allowed his eyes to glide up the figure and form of Diana, Wonder Woman, until he met amused blue eyes gazing back at him, obviously wondering where his mind had been wondering as he'd sought to meet her look.
"Am I interrupting?" she asked quietly with both patience and expectance in her voice, a small smile budding on her lips and a bemused look in her eyes.
"Analyzing a situation," he answered harshly, hoping that she would question him no further. He wasn't in the mood for explanations and he certainly wasn't in the mood for her distracting presence. Of course, he should have realized that the Amazon Princess backed down to no man, no matter the rudeness of his tone.
"Mind some company?" she inquired, not waiting for an answer, but immediately taking a seat and looking at him with a gleam of expectation in her eyes, as if she thought he would question her audacious movements.
If she wanted a fight, he would gladly oblige.
"Yes," he returned tightly. "I'm in the middle of something here, Princess." He deliberately used the nickname because he knew that it would aggravate her, possibly even irritate her enough to leave.
Once again, he underestimated the patience and persistence of the Amazons.
"I'll be quiet," she responded, giving him an innocent look out of those pretty blue eyes that just begged him to try and chase her out of the room if she wasn't willing to go.
He stubbornly remained silent, just to see what trick she'd try next, to try and catch some glimmer as to why she was invading his space and driving his brain into drooling mode by crossing those legs and sipping calmly at the iced mocha in her hand.
He quickly averted his eyes and returned his attention to the screen in front of him, to the mass of stars gathered just outside the Watchtower window, twinkling and teasing him with the semblance of romance and the illusion of nighttime that they provided. Nighttime meant bed, and right now, any ideas of bed were quickly shunted out of his mind so that he could remember the task at hand and not the woman seated at his side.
Not that she was doing anything specific to distract him. Apparently her presence was enough. She sat there, obviously lost in thought, her pink tongue darting out to lick the rim of the mocha cup and he practically groaned, wondering once again why her gods had decided to torture him in this manner and when she would finally either leave or tell him what she was doing in the Monitor Womb.
Focused on the screen just in front of him, he tried not to notice her, but still wasn't quite sure if he was succeeding or failing miserably. Or perhaps he was more comfortable not thinking about his obvious failure, until he heard her sigh.
Looking over, he saw an expression of abject misery on Diana's face and his desires were lost with one glance at that look.
"Something wrong, Princess?" he asked, using the same moniker but with a bit more gentleness to it this time.
"A little uncertain of how to handle a problem," she answered quietly, iced mocha forgotten in her lax hand and her head hanging down, hair shielding his view of her face. "It's nothing, really."
Disregarding the jolt that shot through him, reminding him that he wasn't here to help, he leaned over in a tender gesture atypical for him and tucked the loose strands of hair blocking his gaze behind her ear.
"Princess," he said, assuming that emotionally brusque tone once again, "I'm not the one that you're supposed to go to in these situations." Letting his fingers trail down her jaw for just a second, he turned away from her, adding, "Talk to J'onn or something."
"I think I'm in love," she whispered and his gaze immediately shot over to her, to the empty mocha, to the beauty that had once held the promise of dreams and possibilities, to the legs that haunted his dreams and wondered what to say, how to handle this potential bombshell of a situation with some levity and tact, traits he wasn't exactly known for.
Then recognizing that he simply couldn't face this particular situation with those abilities, he fell back on his usual conversational skills instead.
"Hmm?" he murmured, trying not to glance out of the corners of his eyes at the ebony locks that skimmed her face, at the olive skin that beckoned and tempted, at the crossed legs that made him want to swallow in desperation, at the need to touch and take.
So he remained stationary, totally still in the wake of her pronouncement.
"I don't know what to do," she said, finally looking at him, putting her hand on his knee in an absent gesture that spoke of the ease and camaraderie between them, the trust that had been developed throughout the years almost without him realizing it.
"He's a good man," she continued, "but I don't think that he'll let himself love me in return."
He almost snorted. It was hard to imagine any red-blooded male not wanting to prove himself worthy of Diana, not wanting to get lost in that body, peel back the layers of her personality bit by bit until all of Diana was finally revealed in all her light and perfection.
Reigning in his wild thoughts, he looked fiercely down at the hand on his knee, wondering how he was going to be able to give up those fantasies, those possibilities that he evoked in him. He wasn't a man for happy endings, but some part of him still craved that elusive quality in his life, that contentment that so many others seemed to possess with such ease.
Some little slice of his heart wondered if that contentment would be so elusive with Diana in his life, at his side.
He brushed that aside and looked over at the Amazon Princess staring at him with a question in her eyes and lips currently being worriedly nibbled on. And decided for once to lead with his emotions and just answer her concerns, regardless of the possibilities it would end in himself, in his mind and his dreams.
Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, he spoke quietly, but with a surprising ease: "What man could resist a woman like you?"
Smiling quickly and almost blinding him with the beam of her happiness, she stood, body almost trembling as she told him, "Thank you."
Walking to the door of the Monitor Womb, she turned back for a moment, brushing her hair behind her shoulders and asking with a sly smile, "After your Monitor Duty is done, could you stop by my quarters?"
He was slightly confused by the request, but hid that from her shining visage, turning back to the computer screen and the stars, his mind ferociously trying to determine the identity of her mystery man and simultaneously wondering how he was going to rid himself of the emotions that she flooded him with every time they were together.
"If time permits," was all that he would let himself answer, knowing that he had commitments in Gotham and that he was going to have to find a way to give up even the possibility of Diana and that elusive contentment he'd been chasing for years now, ever since he had lost his parents because of a movie and a madman.
And from the doorway, she stared at the back of his head, noting the rigid tension that locked his body, no matter how he sought to hide it, and practically glowed in response, a smile lighting her lips and filling her eyes.
"There's something I need to tell you," she stated coyly, and as his head whipped around, he caught nothing but the echo of her footsteps and the swing of her hair as she walked down the hall towards the personal quarters in the Watchtower.
Then she stopped, turned around, and boldly winked at him, her expression filled with joy and audacity, before heading once again towards her room, leaving him with the sight of her legs and the possibilities she could bring to his life.
This plot bunny has been in my mind for awhile. Hope you liked it!
Plus, I haven't quite decided what to do next with Come Cryin' so this was my escape from it for a little bit!