I don't own these characters, and I don't make money off of them.
I'll try to explain why I wrote this below. It's probably the "steamiest" thing I have written, but it is still most definitely a T, and they are married, and it doesn't even go that far, if you know what I mean. : )
Thank you super-beta KN-MKBK. I know I normally send BCBW/BS your way, but today, I give you HC. HA!
As always, please review. Even if it's critical (especially if it's critical), I still love to hear from you all. Thanks!
More than a Machine
Clickety. Clack. Click. Clackety.
The sound of Bruce's fingers flying robotically over the keyboard filled the cavernous basement. Every once in a while, one of the cave's nocturnal inhabitants would make itself known by emitting a high pitched screech. Both noises were accompanied by the whirring of the Cray supercomputers that powered the gigantic screen that dominated the Batcave.
Oblivious to the monotonous symphony being conducted around him, the figure sat nearly motionless before the computer. Having slipped the cowl off his face, his skin took on a greenish tint from the glow of the monitor. So intent on his work, he had not noticed Alfred walk up behind him.
"Sir, she wishes to see you upstairs."
He continued typing, not sparing the old man a glance or responding to his words in the slightest.
The butler raised an eyebrow and remarked more to himself than to anyone else in the room, "I'll send her down, sir."
The first thing the man noticed was the sweet fragrance that met his nostrils. Fingers stilled over the keys, eyes closed to shut of all his senses, save one. His nose tickled from the spiciness of the cinnamon and ginger. He inhaled more deeply, recognizing the soft vanilla that enhanced and underscored the other aromas.
He could name the molecules that were sending the impulses to his brain (cinnamaldehye, zingiberene, vanillin), but science was left behind as images of her and Christmas flooded his mind.
He was certain there was one more scent he had yet to identify, but he stopped searching for it when two gentle hands from behind him covered his eyes. One of the hands fell away, but the one that remained quickly covered what was left exposed by the absence of the other. He couldn't hear her walk, so he assumed that she flew around and was hovering in front or over him. He couldn't quite tell, but for once he didn't try to dissect the mystery.
After she repositioned herself, she moved her other hand back to his face, forming a mask over his eyes. He raised his hands to touch hers and silently cursed the synthetic barrier surrounding his hands. She soon took care of that, removing his gloves, as he, in good faith, did not open his eyes. His calloused palms rubbed against the smooth skin which covered the various bones and muscles of her hands. The silky texture was only broken up by the sharp edges of the ring on her hand. The ring he had given her that night she had consented to be his. He began to slowly move his hands up her arms, and he felt the small dots that had suddenly risen over her flesh. The goosebumps spelled out her reaction, and he pictured all those other times he had read her skin. In cold, in heat, in love. Before he could move past her elbows, the air crackled with the sound of her voice. "Stop." He listened.
His legs grew heavier, weighed down by the body she had settled in his lap. As she made herself comfortable, the material of her nightgown rustled against the Kevlar of his uniform, making a soft brushing sound. He heard the satin that clothed her body. She moved in closer, exhaling against his ear.
"Keep your eyes closed," she whispered.
He slowly nodded his head, and the gentle pressure on his face was removed.
Her hair brushed against his cheek as she moved her head against his. She began humming a happy tune, as her fingers played across his cheeks. Then her touch was gone. Seconds later, it resurfaced on his brows. She continued this game of hide-and-seek over the rest of his facial features. He tried to guess where he would find her next, though without much success. Eyelids, forehead, nose, temples, jaw. He opened his mouth to speak, but a firm finger halted the air that would have carried his voice. With his breath, the sensation also disappeared. She replaced it with her lips, retracing the path her fingers had etched upon his face. When she had thoroughly canvassed the skin there, she moved down to his neck. Her mouth came to rest near his Adam's apple, and he only realized she had stopped humming when she murmured, "Speak."
"Diana." Speaking her name had summoned all the other times she had forced the word from his mouth, whether in exasperation, passion, mirth, anger, love. His voice was low and dark, as if he were issuing a warning. But she didn't stop. Her lips located his carotid artery, indenting his neck, causing him to feel the blood coursing just below the surface. Then her lips disappeared.
Only to reappear on his mouth. She laid them lightly against his, moving them slowly until they were in perfect alignment, achieving the greatest amount of contact. Satisfied that she had found the right spot, her lips parted against his, and her tongue moistened his now opened mouth. Her hand traveled down his chest, so that it now rested over his heart. The tempo increased with the ferocity of her kisses, the crescendo of their passion causing the cardiac muscles to contract and relax as if he were sprinting.
His lungs began to sting, craving oxygen. She finally broke contact. Her loud, unsteady breaths covered his face, mingled with his own sharp exhalations, as he observed, "Someone's been eating strawberries." Her favorite fruit; the taste he enjoyed most.
The "mmm hmm" she uttered vibrated against his lips. And then the torturous oscillations stopped. His legs grew lighter as her weight was transferred to the floor. He listened to her bare feet pad across the cold floor, and a second later, a "click" resounded in the air.
Even closed, his eyes could sense the room had become dimmer. As the monitor had been turned off, the only light now came from the fixtures in the ceiling high above them.
He heard her feet approaching, but this time he felt her legs touching the outsides of his thighs, as she straddled his seated form. Her two hands framed his face as she kissed his eyelids, granting permission for them to be opened. The shaft of brightness hit her hair, causing it to gleam in the dark. The spotlight brought her smile into focus as her image was engraved on his retinas, on his soul. Her own eyes danced with laughter as she looked down on him, their color having been brightened by the gray of her negligee, one of the many he had given her since that first night together. This one just happened to be his favorite.
He tried to move up so he could kiss her, but she had him pinned down. Her face hovered at least five inches above his, taunting him with its beauty and joy. She slowly tilted her head to the side, causing an ebony curtain to fall across his face. Centimeter by centimeter, she lowered her face until finally it was within his reach. Their mouths met briefly. Too briefly. Her face floated further away as she moved to land beside his chair.
He rose from his chair so that that now he was standing with her.
All the teasing was gone. Her eyes locked with his, and her voice was laden with adoration and desire. "I want you to come to bed with me."
"I have one last thing I need to finish down here."
Diana looked at him, disappointed that he had chosen his work over her presence, though there was still hope in her words: "Don't stay up too much longer."
"Sorry, Princess, but it looks like it's going to be a late night."
Her shoulders slumped and she murmured, "Goodnight, Bruce," then turned to walk away.
She hadn't even taken one step when two strong arms forced her back into the chair that had so recently held him captive.
His towering figure loomed large over her, covering her in shadow. "I promise you, Diana; it's going to be a very good night."
She smiled up at him as he leaned over her, caressing her cheek tenderly.
"Now close your eyes."
When I first started writing this, it was just going to be an exploration of Bruce's five senses. But then as I kept writing, I thought of how a lot of the time he is perceived as only a machine, so I was writing against that idea. He has feelings, he has likes/dislikes, he has favorites, he has compassion, he has Diana. I am also writing against the idea that humans are only their bodies. Every touch between him and Diana is laced with some kind of memory he has had with her before.
Have you ever wondered why touch can be more than a physical and temporal event? Like when you've been upset, and a friend comes up and hugs you. That hug is more than just two arms wrapped around you for a brief period of time. It's also comfort, understanding, love, hope, whatever. It's because we are body and soul, and both parts are involved in any kind of communication. So...I was trying to explore that as well, though it got lost a bit in the middle. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, regardless of what philosophies you come to the table with.