Black Velvet

A slap on the rear made her yelp. Hands clasped at her round cheeks, pulling them apart, and then his thumb pressed against her ass. She inhaled a sharp breath, clutching at the sheets while his finger pushed and probed at her, sinking deep. The feeling was intense, so much so that it didn't even take the subsequent speeding up of his thrusts to send her tumbling into another orgasm.

She writhed and trembled, quivered and quaked, a delirious "Yes, yes, yes!" spilling from her pretty lips. The thick erection inside of her carried her to familiar but no less sublime heights, filling her so wonderfully, pleasing her so well it was as if he had a manual for her body. He rained smacks upon her ass, colored her red with his handprints, squeezing her flesh, rubbing in circles as if soothing her. He made her so wet it was almost embarrassing, but there was little thought worth considering other than the next sweet release building up inside of her, getting ready to force its way up from the heated throbbing of her loins.

The world had both stopped and ended all at once. Gotham City, frozen as in a photograph, universes collapsing, folding in. She knew nothing but him and he her, and when she came again, so swiftly after the previous orgasm that her vision wavered, Bruce came with her.

Savage but fulfilling, their coupling ended with a passionate roar from him and an overstimulated sob from her. His essence spilled into her, creamy, hot to match her insides. Afterwards, tired and weak, she flopped onto her stomach then rolled over onto her back, panting, a hand raised to her forehead. Bruce's massive form laid beside her, warm and comforting.

"If you don't want me to steal the Batmobile," she said after a time, "you're doing a poor job of showing it."

"You admit it then," he smiled. A statement, not a question.

"God, yes." Selina scooted towards him, head resting within the crook of his shoulder. "I got exactly what I wanted."

"You usually do."

"Mhmm," she yawned.

He pulled her close and she closed her eyes, feeling a lot more tired than she had an hour ago. A weight shifted atop the bed and she opened one of her eyes, greeting the disturbance with a smile.

"Hello, Isis. You little voyeur."

The cat blinked and skulked towards them, settling near Bruce's leg. Like her, they had a history together.

Content in his arms and listening to the thump of his heart and the faint hum of music, she allowed the alluring pull of sleep to ferry her away.

***

Selina woke hours later.

Five minutes after that, she opened her eyes and glanced at the clock on her nightstand.

11:38

Yawning, groaning and smiling all at once, she stretched like a starfish, finding her bed disappointingly empty of a particular Bat. This wasn't unusual for either of them, but this time, at least, she could sense his presence in her apartment.

So, mustering her resolve, she swung out of bed, naked, her sex sticky and tender from last night's romp. Finger-combing her hair and yawning again, she moved towards the open door of her bedroom, noticing the removal of her discarded garments from the floor and the enticing smell of breakfast teasing her grumbling stomach.

Bruce was in the kitchen, finishing up cooking while a crowd of hopeful cats--including Isis--gathered round. He noticed her immediately, wearing a plain white shirt that seemed as if it would come apart if he flexed once and a pair of blue boxer shorts, looking every bit as delicious as the breakfast he was making smelled. Apparently he had found some old clothes that he had left at her place on some other occasion.

"Good morning." His voice was rich, unfairly sensual with just the right amount of consideration in it.

Her loins flared with heat and her pussy squeezed.

Calm down Selina, you just woke up.

"G'morning," she mumbled back, voice huskier than usual from the clinging remnants of sleep.

Sitting on a barstool, she observed him plating her meal: scrambled eggs, sausage and half a grapefruit. He had turned on the news, although it was muted, and her previously unfinished bowl of ice cream lay cleaned and drying upon a dish rack.

They ate in silence, sharing knowing glances and enjoying the warm measure of each other's nearness. He admired her. Selina was still dirty from the night before, ruddy, disheveled, confidently naked, still glowing. Lushly endowed, her breasts were full, topped by nubs of pale pink. Her eyes gleamed with life, her abs firm and made tighter every time she leaned forward to take a bite of her meal. Cats meowed at her feet. Simple and mundane. A moment of immodesty shared between comfortable lovers, as if her nakedness was no more unusual than him in his clothes or a bare ankle.

They finished eating. It was cold. He warmed her up, deep and satisfying, right on the kitchen counter. She received his nourishment and then led him to the couch, straddling him and riding him to release, biting into his carved shoulder as she came. Afterwards, they showered, taking far longer than usual. His hair smelled of her citrusy conditioner, making her laugh at the idea of the big bad Batman smelling like fruit.

Back in the bedroom, it was a little past 2:00 p.m. when Bruce's phone rang, angry and urgent. He took it, conversing with an unknown caller. She listened, nosy but unashamed, as if it was just as much her business as it was his.

"Which little bird is that?"

Bruce hesitated, then turned the phone away from him before answering.

"Barbara."

"Ah. Good kid."

He nodded and returned to his conversation, that serious edge in his voice normally reserved for when he was playing the role of Batman returning. When he was finished he sat at the edge of the bed, pulling his too-small shirt over his head. He was leaving.

She frowned and moved closer, draping herself over him from behind and whispering in his ear.

"Come back and play, daddy."

It wouldn't work, she knew, but hey, couldn't blame a girl for trying.

His hand encompassed hers, lightly, but firm enough to peel her away from him.

"I can't. Promised Barbara I'd help her with this."

"This?"

"A drug bust."

"Sounds fun. I'll drive."

He paused and gave her an odd look, one leg through his trousers.

"What?" she asked from the opposite side of the bed, donning a pair of red lace panties and matching bra. "Cat not allowed to come?"

"No, you can come."

"So then what's with the look?"

"I'm driving."

Selina sniffed.

"You don't trust me to drive?"

"I trust you with my life."

"So?"

"...But not with my car.

"Ugh. Fine." She picked up one of his gloves and threw it at him. "Asshole." Despite her words, she grinned at him.

They dressed, he in his bullet ridden Batsuit and she in her catsuit, all leather and latex and belted at the waist with accessories. The suit clung to her skin, emphasizing her curves and all the muscles beneath her softness, an intoxicating mix of jiggle and firmness. Her wide-eyed mask, thin and feline with two little ears at the top, framed a pair of intelligent green eyes set beneath goggles resting atop her head. A purposefully placed strand of hair peeked out of her mask across her brow.

After ensuring her cats would be ok in her absence, they ventured out onto the balcony and were greeted by the crisp afternoon air, chill yet refreshing. Located forty-three floors up, they reigned over Gotham like a pair of monarchs, the daytime painting a picture of a city steeped in cold, its thousands of buildings and windows festooned by frost. His city; her city.

"Remind me, what was it you called me last night?" she asked, zipping her suit up all the way and hiding her cleavage.

"A brat?" he answered immediately.

"Not that one," she said, ignoring the bait.

"Perfect?"

"That's the one," she purred, wrapping her arms around him and clinging tight.

He pulled her close and then they were off, jumping, gliding, the rumbling of tires on pavement carrying them into the city.

***

Any errors or criticism, lemme know. Thanks.