Black Velvet

Selina knew they knew it, but her assessment of her own worth in comparison to the rest of Gotham differed slightly. To her, she was only the second most attractive person in Gotham.

Her hands were all over him, everywhere at once, touching, grabbing, holding, feeling the weight of him beneath her. She kissed at his broad chest, brushing the light forest of hair atop it, and flicked her tongue teasingly over one of his nipples. He let loose a guttural groan akin to a growl and she swallowed, one of her legs hooked around his, her sex wet against his skin. Selina rose up, admiring him while he did the same to her. His hand moved and a moment later fingers stroked at the small of her back, gliding up along her spine. She shivered, back arching instinctively into him, her hands roaming along his skin, slowly, feeling at a museum of scars and battle wounds that far outnumbered her own.

Nothing new, thankfully.

There was, however, a slash of intimately familiar claw marks across his chest. She stared up at him as she traced her fingers over them, her sharp green eyes meeting his steely blues. They had rehearsed this moment countless times in the past, but a small part of her still felt that familiar sting of guilt. And yet, in a way it was a symbol of their violent beginning turned loving present. Sure, she felt bad for scratching his perfect, deliciously chiseled body, but another part of her took a certain amount of pride in it; it was a literal reflection of herself carved into him, after all. She wasn't exactly sure how to feel about that, but it was kind of romantic.

His fingers were suddenly running through her hair, parting her raven-black tresses and teasing at her scalp. By instinct, she pressed herself against his hand, nuzzling into it and looking up at him, an impish gleam in her eyes. Her heart sped--raced faster than the Batmobile at full blast, nitro and all the other little enhancements be damned. Bruce Wayne had no business being so rich and so handsome: a symmetrical face, manly yet with an almost childish innocence and eyes that had captured her at first glance. He was hard, cold, haunted at times, but oh, during moments like these he could be so playful, so expressive. His jaw, like sculpted marble, was furnished with the beginnings of stubble. Unusual for him, but not at all unattractive.

The dim light of the room cast shadows about his face, but the man she knew was still there, every line and contour etched into her heart like an immutable engraving. She knew him utterly.

A crippling, enraging inadequacy clawed at her, made her want to flee his arms, to retreat, for his sake, but it was impossible. Those blue eyes, experienced yet somehow boyishly innocent...

Bruce's face drew closer to hers, from her own movement or his she wasn't quite sure, but her breasts pressed against his chest, covering the scar she had left upon him years prior. His heart beat as hers did, as if racing it, and her trepidation suddenly fled. No matter how calm he seemed, his heart told a different story; he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

Her breath caught and then his lips were on hers, claiming her mouth with his own. Murmuring happily, she snaked her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer, seeking the drowning comfort that he brought while he did the same with her. The emotions running through her were overwhelming, but she embraced them just as she embraced him, playfully biting his lip and grinning up at him, exploring his hair with her hands and planting soft pecks across his lips and the rest of his face.

She wanted to devour this man--to be devoured by him, to feel nothing but him and her.

Her lips trailed down from his jaw to his neck, kissing near his collarbone and then licking all the way back up. She seized his face between both hands and met his lips with a deep kiss, melting into the warmth of his mouth and tongue for a time until his hand began to slide down the long muscles of her back, coming to rest upon one of her plump cheeks. She pressed her brow against his and grinned, a hint of laughter in her voice as she spoke:

"Eager, are we?"

A toothy smile tugged at his lips. She lived for those smiles. They were each as rare and valuable as any diamond she had stolen.

"Very," he rumbled, leaning in to kiss her.

Selina pulled away, her lips just out of reach, a smirk on her face.

"Mmn... Poor boy. You're going to have to earn it though, I'm afraid."

"Earn it, huh?"

"Mhm."

Eyes never leaving hers, he rolled her over onto her back, gently, and then kissed her again before sinking down between her legs. His awareness of things, of her, was extraordinary. The bedroom was dark, windowless, but not without light. From beyond its walls and barely ajar door the whisper of snow, the melody of a song he vaguely recognized as Tom Jones' "She's a Lady," and the contented purring of cats. Sheets shifted. Selina's body was flush, warm against the cool air. Her eyes, pleading emeralds. He spread her thighs further, felt her shiver as his lips and stubble brushed against them, and then dove deeper.

She watched, enthralled, as his lips met hers in a different way this time, planting kisses upon her slit and parting her folds with his tongue. Eager to taste her, eager to please her, his mouth worked against her, licking and sucking in such a way that she couldn't help but moan.

"Bruce..." She breathed his name, the words escaping her mouth like a summer breeze, warm yet delicate, and she reached to stroke at his dark hair, raking her teeth over her bottom lip and sighing as he continued to eke pleasure from her loins.

His mouth made room for his hand and his palm glossed over the tiny, neatly trimmed patch of fur adorning her sex. Excitedly, he slipped his forefinger between her folds and into the heated abysm of her depths, causing her to squirm and clutch at the sheets. His other hand laid itself upon her toned stomach, pinning her, and then his mouth was upon her again, sucking at the swollen nub of her clit while his finger explored the strict confines of her womanhood.

"Fuck, Bruce!" She repeated his name, crying out like a storm this time, and his name on her lips was like a word of Power, making him double his efforts. Tender, careful, making love as if he had never done it before, yet madly skilled to the point where her heart was battering against her ribcage and her breathing was like the chuff of an engine. He tended to her, wanting her to be satisfied, wanting her to want him. Another finger slipped inside her, curling up and joining the first in rubbing at her most sensitive of spots.

Selina half-moaned, half-whimpered, squirming beneath the hand holding her firm against the bed. She wasn't just wet, she was completely soaked, allowing his fingers to touch and feel at every nook and crevice, owning her pleasure like she belonged to him. Like her juices, her moans flowed freely, unable and unwilling to be held in as Bruce did his best to wrench an orgasm from her atop her bed.

Wet and sweet to his tongue, he alternated between licking and fingering at her clit, swapping roles between finger and mouth while Selina gyrated, bucked, and undulated her hips into him. The softness of her folds yielded to him, and he spread her wide, pleasured her, made the budding tension inside of her rise to a boil.

She moaned, voice sweet and husky. She gasped for air, breathing fast and anticipatory. Unable to sit still, her hands moved independently, one running through her cool black hair while the other clasped at the masculine hand pressed against her belly. Her back arched and the swell of her breasts rose, each topped by erect crowns of beautiful pink. Bruce was good--as she would tell people, he was the best at anything he put his mind to--and this was no different. She struggled against the growing tension within, resisting it with all of her being in a hopeless battle to keep him between her legs for eternity, to feel his tongue and finger against her and the ineffable pleasure they brought, but it was futile. She could no more resist her impending climax than the sands of a beach resist the waves, and, her defiance fading, she rode those waves with an appreciative cry.

Selina's head thrashed and her body jerked in a wet rush of bliss, tumbling with her release, her vision and mind blank for the tiniest of wonderful moments.

Bruce kept her pinned beneath his hand as she came, but his finger didn't quit and his mouth continued to suckle at her nub, wringing every ounce of delightful pleasure from her until she lightly shoved him away, smiling fondly. Her sex was misted wet, slick with her orgasm, her pale skin flushed cherry red with arousal. It had been amazing. The best. She wanted more.

Selina was needy. Perhaps it was selfish, but she couldn't help it around him. And besides, he was needy too.

"Come here, rich boy."

Beckoning him with a curled finger, she sat up and tucked her legs to the side. He climbed up the bed to her, taking her in his arms, and for a few lasting seconds they shared in one another. Hungry, their lips met, and then, made even hungrier afterwards, unmet with a light popping sound. She nuzzled into his neck, licked and kissed him there as if trying to leave a permanent reminder of her, and then he did the same to her, one hand on her nape, firm, possessive. He whispered something in her ear and she smiled, watching him as he rose upon the bed, kneeling, his heavy tool greeting her.

Thick but not too thick, long but not too long; a perfectly curved, silky smooth tower of enticing white skin that never failed to please her. She licked her lips, shooting him a melting glance before helping herself to the rock-hard treat before her.

Sparing no introduction, she kissed it and then took it in both hands, twisting, wringing, squeezing, reveling in its rigid firmness and the way he tensed around her. She kissed it again, but this time she truly tasted him, flicking at his tip with her tongue and catching the first pearly bead of his early delight. She caught his eye. His expression, pleading as she had been, needy as she still was, made her smile. Another kiss, but this time her lips traveled further, smothering him within her warm mouth. He was delicious--his manhood, the man--all of him, and she slid her lips over his length with a profound desire of her own. She wanted to taste more of him, to draw out his release, and so she worked at him with languorous bobs of the head, her full lips dragging back and forth along his impressive length.

He was hers now, they both knew, and she treated him sweetly, mouth moving in long reaches, throating him while her hands caressed him, cupping his balls, grabbing his ass and touching at his thighs. Slow, steady, she sucked, tongue whirling about, shining him with an indecency of saliva. He moaned, body rumbling as if expelling all of the tension he had accumulated since their last experience together. Selina smiled and hummed, happy to help him cut loose, for the man certainly needed it.

Minutes. The song had changed again. Shania Twain singing about rocket scientists and Brad Pitt now, though she could barely hear it over her own murmurs and suckling. An emergency siren wailed, shrill but muffled, and Bruce stiffened reflexively. That wouldn't do.

"Relax, baby." She rubbed her cheek against his tool, one hand fondling at his sac, and then took him back into her mouth, licking from root to tip before doing so.

He apologized and she smiled again. For all of his hard and stolid exterior, he could be such a fool sometimes, but a lovable one at that.

Fast, deep, she worked magic against him, suppressing her gag reflex and taking him entirely, her tongue wiggling beneath his healthy manhood. Her fever rose, hot and forceful, as if the very air of the room had changed to precipitate the intensity of their love making. Selina wanted him badly, enjoyed the feeling of him in her mouth, the taut muscles of his body against her fingers, and her movements hastened, taking on a desperate quality to them. Her saliva stirred and squelched, loud within the quiet of the bedroom, and the two of them moaned in songlike conversation. She was sucking off Bruce Wayne--the goddamn Batman--and even after over half a decade that thought set her off like fireworks, made her just as wet as she had been their first time together.

Suddenly, she slowed, anticipating his release from the way his member pulsed and throbbed with life, his labored groans emboldening her like fuel upon a fire. She savored every stroke and allowed him to do the same, head tilting this way and that, covering new ground every time she dove forward, her well-defined cheeks turning concave as her suction increased. He whispered her name, voice hoarse, his hand moving to the top of her head to pet at her inky black hair, and she purred, twirling her tongue around the bulbous girth of his cushiony head. Sensitive, so sensitive. His hips bucked against her and his fingers grabbed at her hair, tight but not too tight. A curse followed by a groan of release and his balls served their purpose, filling her mouth with his sticky batter.

Selina encouraged him with the fond touch of her fingers and the pull of her mouth, still sucking upon his twitching cock and coaxing him with her lips. She received his stress, swallowed it, hummed around him. The taste was strange but not unpleasant. During this, their eyes never broke contact, piercing green on soothing blue, and when his eruption ended she cleaned him thoroughly, marking him with the gleam of her saliva. Bruce panted, temporarily spent, and she rose up to embrace him.

For a short time they molded together, clutching lovingly, but then he gripped her hard and forced her to spin around so that her back was to him. She resisted, barely--cried out--and then his hand was around her throat, not taking no for an answer. Something poked against her backside, wet and dribbling, and oh, God, but she couldn't help herself. She pushed back against him, wanting him to use her any which way he pleased.

"Cat."

His voice came from directly above her, calm yet powerful and commanding. She trembled, her breath caught, and that wonderful squeezing tension within her blossomed again from that one simple word. Despite the winter cold, she felt scorchingly hot.

"Yes, Bruce?" Selina's voice came out weaker than she had intended, barely a whisper.

Ever so slightly, the hand around her throat tightened and then untightened, indenting her pale flesh.

"You didn't answer my question."

It took her a second to realize what he was talking about. The Batmobile.

"I told you," she said, forcing a delectable yet unconvincing amount of defiance into her voice, "figure it out yourself."

She couldn't see, but she was sure that he was smiling.

"I did." His breath was like hot steam against her ear now. "I want to hear you say it."

His other hand palmed at her breast, setting her atingle, and then he pinched at the little pink nub of her nipple, twisting it and finding that sweet spot between pain and pleasure. Oh yes, she liked that. And she liked it even more when his hand trailed downward, breathing life into her skin then cupping her slick mound and slipping two fingers inside.

Selina gasped, an uneven quiver in her breathing, and she bent her right arm back to feel at his shoulder, at the hair on the back of his head. His fingers were finger-fucking her to the rhythm that he knew she loved, his palm rubbing against her poor clit.

"I wanted you to come over," she finally admitted, pushing against him, greedy for more.

Bruce's hand squeezed gently around her neck and his tongue traced the outer shell of her ear. "Why?"

She said nothing, but looked up at him, his face looming over hers, and offered him a gluttonous smile that made his eyes glimmer with a complicated depth of emotions: excitement, anger, love.

His hands left her, and then in the blink of an eye she was pushed onto her hands and knees.

"You're a brat, Selina."

"What?"

Searing heat bloomed upon her ass, followed by the grabbing and kneading of her round cheek. She yelped unexpectedly and glanced back at him.

"You heard me. You steal. You leech, you use my credit cards."

Her pussy trembled with every word upon his lips. Dripping wet. So needy, so hungry.

"So? What's your point, Bat?"

"You know why I let you?"

Bruce spanked her again and she had to bite her lip to refrain from yelping a second time. He was leaning over her now, a hand pulling at her silky short hair, rough in all the right ways.

"W-why?"

"Because you're priceless."

He thrust into her, burying himself inside of her hot wetness with a single stroke. From the thrust of his cock or the bite of his words she wasn't sure, but she cried out like the neediest woman in the world.

"Oh, God! Bruce!"

He pulled back and then took her again, hitting the back of her pussy and emphasizing it with another stinging slap against her backside. It was only the second stroke but she came hard, body shaking and her womanhood contracting around his member as she groaned with a sudden magnitude of pleasure. It had been so easy for him, just two pumps of the pelvis and she was crashing, falling onto her forearms while her body yielded to him, gushing with a powerful orgasm that trickled down her thighs. And all the while Bruce kept fucking her, his hips slapping against the fullness of her ass, the womanly softness of her flesh, the jiggle of her thighs; his masculine grunts, so near to her ear, making her mind go dizzy.

Through it all, the savage groans and heated growls, he whispered her name, a barely audible mote of air that rustled her like a strong breeze. She turned her head to look at him and then the hand that was still threaded through her hair pulled her in. They kissed, tongues meeting, his heavy body looming over hers and caging her in as he continued to work the clutching confines of her pussy. Hot and wet for him, Selina lost what little control she had left, shuddering and sucking on his tongue, her crotch throbbing with every measured stroke into it. Bruce stretched her, molded her, used her, but his lips were tender and sweet. She moaned into him until she couldn't take anymore and then broke away from the kiss, panting, sharing the same breath with him. Sweaty, disheveled, and on the cusp of another orgasm, she just smiled, unable to find her words.

His lips feathered her cheek, then her neck, and then his hand trailed from her nape all the way down the curve of her spine, making her shiver and inhale. He grasped at her hips and backside, their toned majesty capped by just the right amount fat, and then admired her. Selina was luminous, shining with pleasure and sweat, her body a very real figment of his desire. Every part of her was perfect: her muscles, flexing and unflexing, her pale skin, glowing in the weak light of her bedroom; the hypnotic sway of her full breasts, just barely visible behind that slender back that she never sees but he has gazed at for so many long, intimate hours. Her words, her noises, ranging from soft purrs to ecstatic shrieks. Her body drew him in, clung to him, wouldn't let him go, but the woman herself, who she really was--an intelligent, cunning equal that was different in so many ways and yet alike in so many others--made him want all of her, to consume her, to fuck her and fuck her and fuck her until the world caved in around them.

"So perfect," he groaned.

Selina preened at the compliment, arching and stretching like a cat for him, her ass put up like an offering. She knew that he meant what he said, and she knew through many years of teasing what kind of effect her ass, clad in leather and latex, had on the man. Naked, and the effect was even more profound.