A Bond is Insatiable
Humming a quiet tune to yourself, you worked your fingers against the latch of the locked window, your diamond claws easily breaking through the harsh metal and popping open the window silently, your lips unfurling into a pleased smile. The black latex clinging to your body makes minimal noise with your movements as you slid through the slight opening provided into a room you were extremely familiar with. You roll your shoulders and breathe in deeply, taking in the spicy musk of the man you knew all too well. He was probably on his way now because of the ‘breach’ in his superior security. Hell, he’d probably send his little asshole of a child instead to deal with whatever occurred at the manor while he stayed out on patrol-
Or not .
“I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s you,” The husky growl emitted behind you sends a shiver down your spine and you turn your head to the side to speak back at him, your grin turning simply feral.”You know, there is a front door.”
“Now where would be the fun in that, Bats? Did you come all the way home to play with lil’ ol’ me?” You tease, reaching up to press a claw against your lower lip. Slowly, your lips part for your tongue to gently run against the tip of the nail and you can tell that there is a distinct effect, by the way his breathing hitches.
“You’ve got to stop breaking in like a criminal. Next time I won’t be so easy on you.” His response elicits a different response than what he expected when you turn your head to peer at him completely, meeting his gaze through both his mask and yours. He’s still decked out in his Batman suit, his cape slightly billowing from the still open window. Even without the ability to see every inch of his face, your perfect memory can still see it now and how handsome Bruce Wayne truly is.
“Bats, I thought you and I talked about this.” You whine and playfully poke out your lower lip, reaching your arms back and upward to feel for the zipper to the latex suit; when you locate it, you begin to zip it down, “I am a criminal. I’ve simply taken a sabbatical from the life of play since you’ve made it clear you won’t allow me to have fun if I want any part of you.” The impromptu deal has no contract, merely a verbal agreement done while his mouth found purchase against your throat for the first time and his hands bound yours together, leaving you defenseless to his touch. You swore while in the throes of passion to give up your fancy for diamonds if you wanted him to sink every inch of himself into you like the first time. You could still picture it, those blue eyes staring down at each and every one of your expressions, forcing the pleasure out of you in waves. So you compromise; you take Batman to bed whenever you please and leave Gotham to its devices for a while. It’s not like you’ve been eyeing that wee little diamond in the museum the past few weeks. If it happened to disappear, you could claim your good behavior as a reason you wouldn’t dare take it (not that he’d believe you anyway).
Silence meets you and you get the sense that he’s merely watching you, scrutinizing each of your movements as you pull your arms from the sleeps of the suit, your bare skin visible from the full moon’s light glaring from the rest of the expansive window. You discard the gloves before you peel away your clothing inch by inch, no modesty left when you rest your hands on your bare hips. Your red, satin panties cling to your flesh and the only thing covering up your breasts are a sticky adhesive pressed against your nipples. How else would you get the sleek look if you wore any more? The only other thing on your body is a bandage carefully wrapped around your right forearm for protection. Beneath it in small, bold writing is the name of the man you both love and abhor at the same time. Bruce Wayne is an awful Bonded and yet you still protect the mark claiming you to belong to him.
“Are you going to stand there all night in that costume, Bats? Or are you gonna come and play with me?” You are forward and brazen from your profession outside of the costume, passionate from your lifestyle as a thief, and dripping wet from the thought of what Bruce Wayne has in store for you. He makes a move after surveying your figure, finally easing out of the layers and casting them aside as if he had all the time in the world. He’d never voice it, but he knew it riled you up the longer he took. Standing there in his boxers, Bruce easily tears away a bandage against his chiseled abdomen and the sight of your name prettily scrawled against his chest like a brand is enough to leave you light headed. It’s not every day that you get to see a beautiful man in all his glory and that beautiful man happens to be yours, sort of.
“I’m beginning to think you only come here for one thing,” He stated as he stalked forward; you can’t help the way you reach out for him, fingers curling and relaxing in the most needy of ways. He complies with your childish antics and easily picks you up in his bulking arms and you curl your arms around his shoulders, licking your lips at the delicious contact of flesh meeting flesh.
“Oh, don’t be silly, Bruce. I’m here for that charming wit, too.” You snark with a teasing smile, stroking dainty fingers down his back as he carries you over to the king sized bed; they are the same hands that have touched some of the richest jewels in the world and yet you can’t help but touch Bruce as much as possible, finding this moment to truly take him in even more exhilarating than stealing a crown. Perhaps he can tell as you grow docile in his grasp while he carries you with ease, stopping at the foot of the bed to gently place you down. Even when you are a sobbing mess in the sheets from overstimulation, Bruce refuses to bruise you, to mark you up the way you wish he would. Maybe it would be crossing a boundary neither of you want.
Or maybe it is just a boundary yet to be crossed.
Bruce is larger than life, both in and out of his Batman persona and that is still true in this instance from the way he towers over you, making you feel impossibly smaller. He leans in, forcing you back as he presses a knee onto the silk sheets to leverage himself onto the bed, his face close to yours.
“What, cat got your tongue? Isn’t this what you wanted?” His voice is even deeper than before, low, raspy, and challenging. You’d be a fool not to obey the obvious command, your chin turning up in seek of his jaw, pressing a flurry of kisses against it to get a taste of his skin again. You are addicted, pure and simple. You are enamored by this man that is and is not yours. Your kisses grow desperate and a small keen escapes the back of your throat as his chest presses down against yours, trapping you against sheets you’d dreamed of as a child when you had nothing. You’d always wanted a lifestyle like this, rich, luxury, coming home to a man who would do anything for you. And here you are with most, if not all of those things. When Bruce’s hand seeks out your own, you think, yes, you are lucky.
Bruce Wayne would surely take a bullet for you, for this contact; his bond tattoo scalds your skin where the two meet, a reminder that this moment is yours, outside of yourself and whatever motivations he thinks you have and no matter what he tried to shield, you could feel his emotions through the tentative Bond formed between the two of you. And it would be something to remember, forever.
Even when you are back to your old ways, running across the tops of buildings with a certain bat in hot pursuit.