This is a stand alone one shot completely unrelated to anything else I've done in the Batman universe. Not sure how I feel about this one, to be honest. I'm trying to work on a longer BatCat piece with a plot and everything (it's more than "...and then they fuck" which is weird for me.)
Anyway. I hope you don't hate this.
It's SMUT - under 18 folks, don't even bother.
Don't own the characters, etc.
It didn't matter who started it. It, whatever it was, had been going on since the moment they'd met. It finally came to a head on that hot, humid August night. They'd kissed - his idea, her idea, didn't matter - they'd touched, they'd forgotten everything except each other. There on the roof, clad in their costumes, he pulled her zipper low, freed her breasts from the confining cups of her bra, lips searching out skin until, finally -
"Let's get you out of this, handsome." Fingers groping near the armor protecting him. Springing free, hard and firm, as her suit started sliding off her hips. He grabbed her arm, breath coming fast, ragged.
"Wait. Protection. I don't -" she silenced him with fingers on his lips. Then she was on her knees, his hardness invading her mouth. She sucked and licked and bobbed until his body tensed and he finished with a deep moan. After, after she'd swallowed every drop and wiped the corner of her mouth with the pad of her thumb, she rose to her feet.
"I always knew you'd taste good," she purred before kissing him again. When she pulled away she nipped his bottom lip with her teeth. "See you later, lover." Then she was gone.
He watched as she floated through the crowd in five inch stilettos, her mask firmly in place, her black satin gown moving rhythmically with the pronounced sway of her hips. He appreciated her as a man appreciates a woman; the shimmer of light off her dress, her tantalizing waist, the skin of her bare shoulders and upper back glowing like honey under the soft lights. He could almost forget everything, almost forget the times he'd pulled some extravagant jewel or fat wad of cash from her diamond-tipped fingers.
Briefly, he allowed himself to indulge in the memories of her hands on his chest, the heated kisses, the times he pushed his body against hers, hot and fevered in the dark. Racy, sexy, hot - and they'd done it all with their clothes on. Until the last time. The night they both snapped, lost in some broken reality where nothing mattered except getting the costumes off. Lack of protection kept him from taking her, taking her hard and rough and frantic, just like he wanted to do right now in this ballroom, all these people be damned.
None of it mattered. He pushed everything aside and forced himself to focus. She was crashing Gotham's annual Halloween Masquerade Ball. Catwoman didn't crash a party without a motive. Batman had a job to do.
Giving chase, he walked calmly though the crowd, his eyes glued to her. She had a natural knack for movement. He always forgot how well she moved, how she bubbled with the grace of a prima ballerina. He knew he moved well. But Selina, Selina flowed like water.
She walked purposely, cutting through the dance floor and weaving around the drunken party guests. Out the door and down a hallway as he followed as closely as he could, grateful for his ability to be light on his feet and silent when needed. She slipped into a small room, shutting the door behind her. He counted to five before following.
The safe in the small utility room was wide open. She chewed on her lip as she stared at the contents. Nothing but manilla envelopes and file folders. Nothing sparkly, nothing shiny, nothing Selina would be interested in.
"They knew you were coming," he said as he leaned against the door. She stiffened then relaxed. She recognized his voice.
"Did a little bat tip them off?" She turned to face him, her lips parting when she saw him sans costume. The mask he wore covered the same area as his cowl, save for his hair and eyes.
"Didn't have to. Even Veronica Vreeland is smart enough to know she shouldn't leave an eight million dollar necklace in her safe when throwing a party for over 500 people."
"I hate when they smarten up," she sighed, shutting the safe. She glanced at him from beneath dark lashes and smiled that wicked smile that reduced him to animalistic lust.
"You look good in a suit. Though I miss the cape," she said, her eyes taking him in, caressing him, sending shivers down his spine. He watched her raspberry lips move and he was back on that roof; her on her knees before him, her lips wrapped around him, hands gripping his hips as she moved.
It had been good. One of the best he'd ever had. But the encounter had been one-sided. Her pleasure hadn't been considered. As Bruce Wayne he often played the role of a thoughtless and selfish lover. But as Bruce, the man somewhere between The Batman and Bruce Wayne, he tried his hardest to make sure his bedmates enjoyed themselves as much as he did. All the women he'd had as Bruce - Talia, Vicky, Silver - had been throughly satisfied. Except Selina. The Batman has no desire outside his driving need for revenge. Selina stirs the yearning ache in his chest, the ache that reminds Bruce he's still human. It's Bruce who pushes her against the wall and kisses her like a man lost. Though they hadn't had penetrative sex, not reciprocating was unacceptable. His pride wouldn't stand for it.
"If we're done, I have places to be," she said as she approached the door. His fingers on her upper arm stopped her in her tracks.
"I owe you something."
"Let me guess - a pair of matching silver bracelets and a trip to see your friend Gordon? Or something better?" she purred, her green eyes blazing. He took a slow pull of breath through his teeth. In all his life, of all the places he'd traveled, he'd never known a woman who burned like Selina. He kissed her. She kissed him back and arched against him. His hands ran roughshod over her ass and her bare back as they kissed hard and long. Her hands moved towards his head. He realized his mistake. She was headed for his mask. He grabbed her wrists.
"Don't even think about it," he breathed.
"You don't want me to use my hands? Just my mouth?" she said, low and sultry. She was playing with him. She wouldn't get the upper hand tonight. Not this time. He untied his tie and pulled it off.
"Kinky," she said as he used the tie to tie her hands to an old pipe running above her head. She stood before him, arms tied above her head, her breasts almost out of her dress. For her part, she was amused. "Now what?" She gasped as he bit her throat. He should stop, grab his control back and get out before it went farther. He couldn't. He was gone the moment he followed her through the crowd.
"Tell me you want this, Selina." Hands on her, hands running up and down her sides, coming closer and closer to her breasts.
"If I don't?" she asked, her head falling back against the wall as his lips tormented her glorious neck. She wrapped a leg around his hips.
"Then I stop and this never happened," he managed as she ground her crotch against his. He thrust against her lightly, letting her feel him, letting her feel how god damned hard she made him.
"Consider this my enthusiastic consent," she said, capturing his lips. His tongue slid between her teeth as he pulled the top of her dress down, her breasts filling his hands. He brushed her hardened nipples with his thumbs. She shivered against him. He chuckled as he pulled away from her lips. He worked his way down, nipping and licking and kissing until he took a nipple into his mouth. She moaned as he lathed her with his tongue. Her sensitive nipples were a welcome surprise. He kissed and kneaded her breasts until she quivered beneath his touch.
Lifting his head, he kissed her again. Pulling back slowly, he looked into those green, green eyes and gave her his best imitation of her wicked smile before dropping to his knees. He massaged her smooth skin, reveling in her long, muscular legs. Her legs were muscular because they did things - they jumped off rooftops and propelled her body through the air. He loved it. He loved the way they felt, the taut flesh on her calves, the steel of her thighs beneath her supple skin. Pushing her dress up around her waist, he mouthed her inner thigh as his fingers traveled higher, brushing her center through her purple lace panties. Gooseflesh broke out across her skin as her hips bucked.
He pulled her panties down, kissing her legs as he went. He could smell her arousal, the musky uniquely feminine scent driving him on, making him want her more. He pulled one leg over his shoulder and kissed her, slowly and purposely, on her moist center.
"Oh God..." she whispered. He spread her open with his fingers and licked her slowly from bottom to top. She shook, her leg tightening on his shoulder. He threw himself into it, alternating between the flat part of his tongue and the tip, speeding up only to slow down and prolong her pleasure.
When she was close, he inserted one finger inside her and fucked her slowly. He added another finger and sucked at her clit.
"Don't stop, please don't stop..." she gasped as his fingers curled inside her one final time and she came, moaning herself hoarse. Her body sagged, her knees trembling as he took her leg from his shoulder and smoothed her dress down. He wiped his face on his handkerchief before rising to his feet.
Her face was flushed, her eyes glassy, satisfaction written on her lips. A smirk crossed his face and he kissed her, letting her taste herself on his lips.
"Your turn, handsome," she whispered, glancing toward her bound hands. Shaking his head, he pulled the top of her dress back up. Her lips parted in confusion and she tugged at the restrictive knot. She'd slip it in minutes if she tried, per his design.
"Now we're even," he whispered, biting her earlobe. "...Lover." Then he was gone, her purple panties tucked into his pants pocket.
Outside, the Bat Signal lit up the autumn sky. Gotham needed her protector and Batman had a job to do.