Chapter Text
The last time you had seen Bruce so fatigued was just before Bane crushed his body and determination. The memory of a physically and mentally broken Bruce made you shudder.
Sleepless nights and exhausting days were normal. You knew Gotham needed Batman like Bruce needed the cowl. The problem was that you had fallen in love with Bruce. Not Brucie, not Batman. Bruce. The man who held so much love in his heart - collecting orphans like trading cards and donating more money to good causes than others earned their entire lives - but just couldn't articulate his feelings. More than once you had wondered if Bruce was just one of many masks and you didn't even know his true self. Whether the real Bruce had died alongside the boy in the alley, leaving only Batman behind.
Your relationship was not perfect. Far from it. You'd known him for over ten years now, and rarely did a week go by without you two arguing about his night time activities. You were proud of him, his work as Batman, but you would never apologize for being worried for his life. There was no doubting his abilities, rather common sense that Bruce Wayne was only human. Mortal.
Your relationship had ended more than once over the years, but in the end you always found your way back into each other's arms. You were both poison and antidote for each other. Every person close to you could confirm that your relationship always ended in shards, hurting both sides. And yet you couldn't leave each other's space. Orbited each other like planets.
He had never cheated on you, never flirted with women while you were together, but the second after your inevitable break up, he was warming himself in another woman's bed. You weren't interested in his sexual liasions as Brucie. But the women at Batman's side - seductive Selina, beautiful Talia - he had truly loved them. Maybe still did, in a twisted way. Sometimes it was hard to forget that you weren't the only woman in his life. But it would be hypocritical to demonize him for it, since you also had other lovers during your pauses.
But when you were together, everything felt magical. You loved this man with all his quirks and flaws. And he loved you.
For that very reason, you granted yourself the right to force him to take breaks from work. You had fought for this right after the incident with Bane. In the end, you had reached an agreement. As long as the world wasn't about to be destroyed, at least two other vigilantes were patrolling the streets of Gotham, and no family members or friends needed help, you were allowed to keep him from his work. At least if he was awake for more than 30 hours at a time. Like today.
Bruce sat in front of the giant screens in the Batcave and didn't even seem to notice your arrival. But appearances were deceiving. You were sure he heard your footsteps and simply didn't react. He was expecting your words even before you spoke them, just like you were expecting his arguments. It was a familiar conversation, but it still tired you out every time.
But when you reached his chair, you stood silently behind the high backrest and looked over his shoulder. You didn't even try to understand the various texts and images on the screens. This was not your world, it was Batman's. Gently, you put a hand on his shoulder, unable to feel his otherwise comfortable body heat through the thick material of his armor.
"How long have you been back?" His answer was quick. "About fifteen minutes."
He had said he would come straight to bed after his usual patrol. Had taken your hands in his, looked you straight in the eye and promised. It was like he didn’t care for your concern about his lack of sleep. You knew if you hadn't come into the Batcave, he would have gotten back in his car and stayed gone until the wee hours of the morning. You would have woken up in a cold bed and another argument would have broken out over breakfast.
Even now you felt the urge to confront him. With your hand, you squeezed his shoulder a little tighter, feeling the unyielding muscles between your fingertips. Bruce knew what you were thinking. He knew you well enough. Yet he didn't even have the decency to look guilty.
The thing was, if you would make him choose - you or the mantle - Bruce would always choose the latter. He loved you, but Gotham was his mistress. That knowledge should hurt you, but it didn't. He fought to protect the people who weren't strong enough themselves. Protected his family with everything he could give, even if it was his own life. That's why you would never make him choose, always support him, be an anchor so he wouldn't forget his own humanity.
There was nothing more important to you than him, Alfred, and the children you loved like your own flesh and blood. No matter what Bruce and your relationship status was at any given time, they were your family.
"Look at me," you demanded quietly, letting go of Bruce's shoulder so he could turn around to face you. Even seated, he was huge, but with you between his parted legs, he had to tilt his head back to meet your gaze.
"Aren't you tired?" you asked when his undivided attention was on you. The answer was obvious. His cowl lay behind him on the desk, allowing you to look at his face. Bruce was pale, paler than usual. His bright blue eyes were bloodshot and the lack of sleep manifested itself in dark circles under his eyes.
He could be lying, but knew you would see right through him. He could be telling the truth and had to expect you to drag him to bed immediately. So he decided to dodge your question. "I have work to do."
Sighing, you stroked his cheek and it warmed your heart when he pressed his face against the inside of your palm. "There's always something for you to do. The question is whether it's something important."
"You know very well that these tasks are always important." Of course he was right, and yet he knew perfectly well that you meant something else entirely. So you ignored his answer. "Who is active in Gotham right now?"
"Red Hood, Batgirl, and Batwoman. Spoiler as well." All the little birds had spread their wings and flew to other parts of the world, and yet there were enough trustworthy vigilantes on the streets so Batman could find a few hours of sleep.
"And you've been active for well over 30 hours," you noted in a calm voice, and your fingers continued to wander upward, stroking through his wild black hair. "Come to bed, Bruce. Your family will call if they need help."
Tired, Bruce closed his eyes. Perhaps in surrender. He was definitely too exhausted to argue your demand. Gently, you grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. Without his help, you couldn't have moved him an inch. But he stood, followed you out of the cave, and allowed you to guide him.
Your hand traveled down his arm to his hand, where your fingers laced with his, before you led him to the bedroom you two shared.
Bruce was a light sleeper. The slightest noise or movement could jolt him out of his dreamless rest. The result of relentless training and constant paranoia about being attacked unexpectedly.
But with your warm body next to him, he let himself fall. Your touch was familiar. He had grown accustomed to you moving in your sleep, robbing him of his blanket, and pressing yourself to his side.
He couldn't remember the last time he had been awakened so tenderly. Waking up to the smell of unsweetened tea and the feeling of loving kisses against his temple, slowly moving down his cheek to the tip of his nose. You had brought him breakfast - generously prepared by Alfred - and kissed him awake.
After a cup of black tea and two bread rolls with cold cuts later, you had sent him to the shower. No matter how hard he had tried to convince you to join him - lewd promises about him kneeling between your legs or him pressing you against the cold tiles - you had stayed strong. Instead, you had ordered him to wash himself thoroughly.
And watching the dominant Bruce Wayne figuratively flee into the adjoining bathroom to hide the hint of a blush was an adrenaline rush you couldn't compare to anything else. If you would ask him about it later, he would deny all accusations with a familiar grunt or don’t acknowledge your teasing at all. It didn't change the fact that you had seen it.
While Bruce was in the bathroom complying with your demand, you were preparing the bedroom. The chance to play the dominant role inside your bedroom didn’t arise often. While Bruce was very open in his sexual preferences, he was reluctant to relinquish control. Like everything else in your relationship, you had to fight for that right. Only after countless conversations about boundaries and preferences did he trust you enough to let you tie him to the bed. Quite literally. And it was amazing, even though you knew that no knot you could tie was able to stop Batman.
But that was exactly what you liked about it. Bruce, under you, because he allowed you to - because he wanted to.
Just as you had finished your preparations Bruce came out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist, hair still slightly damp. Unabashedly, you let your gaze wander over his broad chest, down his perfect eight-pack, and lingered for a while on the vee-shaped above his hips before snapping back up, returning his gaze.
Bruce remained silent, seemingly waiting for something. With a smile, you pointed to the bed. "Go ahead and lie down."
His gaze followed your hand gesture and without hesitation he dropped the towel. His whole posture shifted from controlled to relaxed. The change from dominant businessman Mr. Wayne to your willfully submitting partner Bruce was seamless. That Bruce trusted you so much, relinquishing control when you asked for it - that was the greatest show of trust he could offer you.
This time, you shamelessly looked at his tight ass. There was no part of this man that was untrained. No surprise here. Bruce spent more time at his personal gym than at your side. Well, today he was yours. He wouldn’t leave this room until you were done with him.
You stood beside the bed and looked down at Bruce, giving him a small smile, which he didn't return. But his eyes lit up. Was it anticipation or affection? You weren't sure, but either was fine. Tenderly, you let your fingers wander through his black curls, still damp from the shower.
"We're not doing something out of the ordinary today. No pain, no punishments. Just a scene where we focus solely on you." Your fingers stroked over his prominent cheekbones, toward his full lips. "Tell me your word."
As he opened his mouth to speak, his lips brushed against your fingers. Warm breath rolled over your knuckles as he replied, "September."
You nodded in content. You were convinced that there was no need for a safeword today, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. On the nightstand next to the bed, you had already prepared all the toys for the scene and picked up a leather blindfold. High quality leather lined with soft velvet and several buckles on the back, so that nothing moved around during your playtime. Only the finest of toys for your sub.
"Lift your head for me." He followed the instruction and you fastened the blindfold before checking his sense of sight, making sure he really couldn't see anything. Bruce didn't respond to your movements, so you rose from the edge of the bed and took some steps back. He followed your every move, tilting his face in your direction as if he could see you. It was hard to surprise a man with superior hearing.
Well, you were sure he had seen every toy on the nightstand. He knew what was coming. Your detective was too smart for his own good. The blindfold was just to keep him focused on the sensation.
On a dresser at the other side of the room stood a soundbar. You connected it to your phone and started a playlist you had created for these kinds of occasions. Quiet background music for the right mood.
Then you sat down at his feet on the bed. The mattress moved under your weight and you placed your hands on his toned thighs. Then you gave his hip a playful pat on the side, near his butt. "Turn over on your stomach for me."
Bruce followed your instruction and turned. You leaned back so he wouldn't accidentally smack you with his legs in the process. When he stilled on his stomach, you rewarded him with a chaste kiss on the small of his back before crawling over him and reaching toward the nightstand.
The first item you took was a small bottle of massage oil. You took a seat on Bruce's butt, then warmed a generous amount of oil in your palms. "Make yourself comfortable."
Immediately his position changed, he pulled his arms under his head and rested his chin on the forearms, his face tilted slightly to one side so he could continue to breathe.
As he stopped moving, you pressed your hands against his shoulders and began to massage his sore muscles with strong, circular movements. Slowly, you worked your way up and down his upper arms, only to return to his shoulders.
With each of his even breaths, his entire upper body moved. Bruce was always tense and you were sure that even a professional masseur couldn't change that. His tensions ran deep - psychological stress from years of worrying about family, friends and people he didn't even know.
But knowing didn't stop you from trying. You couldn't stand by his side at night, so you tried to support him as much as you could during the day.
Your hands traveled down his back and with each inch, Bruce seemed to relax further. Every now and then you spread little kisses over his shoulder blades or helped yourself to the little bottle of massage oil. When you reached the lower part of his back, you shifted down, kneeling between his legs.
You leaned your entire weight on his back and rubbed the balls of both hands along his spine. For the first time that evening, a dark, satisfied rumble escaped Bruce’s lips. It was like a reward for your work and you wanted more.
You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his neck, whispering, "I want to hear you. Don't hold back."
With great satisfaction, you could feel him shiver beneath you. You nibbled on his earlobe, then slid back down his spine. Shamelessly, you took his ass in your hands, spreading the cheeks, and pressing a thumb against his twitching entrance.
Bruce trembled and spread his legs in an inviting gesture. From this position, you could see everything. His cock was twitching between his thighs, slowly hardening as your thumb rubbed small circles over his hole. But instead of pushing forward, you withdrew the finger and gave his taut ass a slap. Bruce's soft gasp made you smile.
Slowly, you crawled between his legs and knelt on the mattress. You stroked his thighs, then, with both hands, you began to massage the muscles in his left leg. You took your time, not giving Bruce what you both craved. From this point on, your massage was both: stimulating foreplay and a test of patience.
After you finished with one leg, you turned your attention to the other. Skillful fingers pressed into sore muscles, rubbing over soft skin. With every silent groan from Bruce, you put in more effort.
With the last notes from a song playing in the background, you gave his butt another little slap, breaking the silence. "Turn over on your back."
Almost as if you'd woken him from a trance, Bruce turned sluggishly. It took him two tries before he could twist his body into the requested position. You were still kneeling between his legs, tapping a finger against his knee. Bruce responded without hesitation to the silent demand, parting his thighs further for you. You rewarded him with a chaste kiss on his left hip.
At each bedpost you had attached some handcuffs. Soft black leather, connected to the bed frame with a silver metal chain. You started with his right ankle, then the left. In the end Bruce's legs were spread wide, fastened, with hardly any room left to wiggle.
For a few seconds you knelt silently between his legs while he pulled on the restraints. If anything was too tight, this would be the moment for him to announce any discomfort. But Bruce remained silent and stopped his wiggling. Even though you didn't indulge in this game often, he hadn't forgotten any of your rules and it filled you with great satisfaction that he remained so well-behaved.
Slowly, you crawled over his body. Hands traced his chest, shoulders, up his arms, while your knees rubbed against his thighs before coming to a stop next to his hips. Your most intimate part brushed over his arousal, before you sat on his stomach. Bruce shuddered and pressed his lush lips to a thin line, forcing himself to stay silent.
You pushed his left arm up to the head of the bed and secured it to the bed frame with the cuff. The right arm followed and again you waited patiently while Bruce pulled on the leather. No objections followed, so you leaned forward, took his face between your palms and pulled him into a deep kiss.
Slow, sensual, filthy. You moved your lips against his just like you wanted to. A perfectly coordinated, fiery dance. The kind of kiss a couple could only master after years of relationship. When Bruce opened his mouth to deepen the kiss further, you pulled back.
For a brief second Bruce leaned forward, tried to follow your lips, but seemed to think better of it and let himself sink back into the mattress. Instead he licked over his reddened lower lip and a soft sigh rolled over his tongue. Smirking, you kissed his shoulder then stretched for the bedside table once more, picking up the remaining objects.
A small bottle of lube and a slim vibrator in your favorite color. You placed the items on his chest, letting him know what your next move would be without telling him directly. Bruce inhaled deeply through his nose and you could swear you saw a slight shudder travel through his body.
Your eyes fell to his hips, wandering over the hard arousal between his legs, which rested on his taut stomach, twitching ever so slightly. You smirked, picked up the bottle of lube and dribbled the cold liquid onto his member without warming.
Bruce gasped, his hot cock twitched under the sudden change in temperature, and the steely muscles in his stomach tensed considerably. Only when he visibly relaxed did you dribble a few more drops onto his arousal and let them trickle down to his testicles.
Just before the first thick drops threatened to drip onto the bedspread did you reach out and spread the lube over his erect cock with your entire palm. A low moan split from his lips and echoed in the room. Bruce jerked his hips up against your touch.
"Greedy," you said with a calm but teasing voice and withdrew your hand. Bruce growled, otherwise he continued to remain silent. Why did a majority of men try to stifle their moans? There was nothing more arousing than a loud man beneath your body, quivering, begging for more. You tapped against his thigh and he spread his legs so you could sit between them. Then you drizzled some more lube on your already slippery hand.
A single finger drew lazy circles around his reddened tip, moved down the shaft, before you took his balls in your hand and gently rolled them between your fingers. Finally, another moan. The sound shot right through you, heating your body up. His muscular legs twitched around your waist as your fingers moved further down and pressed against his entrance.
Carefully you pushed in, feeling his walls flutter around your finger. There was next to no resistance. It had been a long time since you two had indulged together like this, but apparently he had not only cleaned himself up thoroughly in the shower, he'd prepared himself for you.
No sooner had you pressed your finger completely into him than you looked up and studied Bruce's face. No tension, no hint of pain or discomfort. For a few seconds you stopped moving, waiting for anything. The request for you to stop never came, so you continued. Carefully, you pressed another finger into him and began to scissor them inside.
Even though you chose a rather small vibrator and Bruce was already prepared rather well, you took your time to lube him up. You wanted Bruce to enjoy this scene without any discomfort whatsoever. Watching him gasp and twitch beneath you was definitely a plus though.
After several minutes, you withdrew your two fingers and wiped them on your pants before picking up the toy on Bruce's chest. As expected, he tried to keep his reactions to a minimum. But you knew Bruce, saw through his every emotion. The way his eyebrows moved, his fingers twitched or his lips curled. He felt the thrill of anticipation.
"Every night you fight for this city," you said quietly, pressing a button on the vibrator. The toy came to life. You pressed the soft head against Bruce's right nipple. He wasn't particularly sensitive there, but that didn't stop you from making him wait a little longer. Fueling that anticipation.
"Risking your life without anyone thanking you for it." Bruce tensed. You had thrown these or similar words at him so many times before. It was a double-edged sword. No matter how proud you were of his work as Batman, you cared for the man behind the mask. Him dying on the streets without you knowing was your greatest fear. But this time your goal was not to provoke an argument with your words.
"You are so selfless Bruce. Giving everything and more to protect Gotham from itself." He clenched his jaw and you circled his nipple with the vibrator, then the other before dragging the toy down his chest, over his stomach. He remained silent.
Stopping at his crotch, you pressed the vibrator against his balls. Bruce rewarded you with a long, strained moan. A deep rumble that sent pleasant shivers down your spine. For a few seconds you held the toy in place, watching Bruce tremble beneath you, then you withdrew the vibrator and bent over him. With one hand you propped yourself up on his chest, with the other you smeared some more lube on the vibrator.
He was so much bigger than you, you had to stretch so you could whisper against his ear, "But you don't have to do all this alone. You have family, you have me. "
Carefully you pushed the vibrator between his asscheeks and against his fluttering hole. It slipped in without any problems, yet you kept your peace slow. Your work was rewarded with a deep moan. While nibbling on his neck, you could feel his pulse throb under your lips.
"Let me show you how good you are. For Gotham. For me," you whispered against his skin, pushing the vibrator further into him inch by inch. You weren't sure if he was responding to your words or the vibrations, but Bruce was moaning for you and that was all you wanted right now.
When the toy was finally all the way inside, you started with small, circular motions of your wrist. Not for a second did you take your eyes off Bruce's face, savoring all the little reactions. It was so hard to break Bruce storic expression, so seeing him part his lips and whisper your name beneath his hitching breath was everything.
You kissed his neck, up to his jaw. Every once in a while, without a pattern, you pressed your teeth into his flesh, or sucked dark marks into his skin. All the while, you moved the toy inside him, changing the angles. Looking for his sweet spot.
Bruce squirmed, spreading his legs for you, offering more room to play willingly. You lay half on his chest, one hand stroking his belly, the other moving rhythmically back and forth. "You look so good, Bruce. Tell me where it feels good, B."
"A little to the right," he murmured in response. His voice was so dark, trembling slightly as he spoke the words. The music almost drowned him out, yet each syllable shot between your legs like liquid fire. You pressed the vibrator further to the right and he moaned for you. Apparently you had found what you were looking for.
You pressed mercilessly against his prostate, moving the vibrator tantalizingly over it. Everything in Bruce's posture told you that he was nearing his climax. He rolled his hips against the toy, tensed his stomach and moaned your name. He was still trying to keep his reactions as small as possible, but he was getting louder with every thrust.
You licked over his salty skin and just nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck as you looked down, watching the toy disappear inside him and his cock twitching against his belly. Maybe he had waited long enough to be touched there.
With your second hand, you grasped his cock and began to stroke it up and down. Your touches were gentle, barely enough pressure to make him come. You wanted him to succumb to the vibrations, to come for you because the feel of hard silicone pushed him there.
"Don't hold back. Moan for me, love," you murmured in his ear and Bruce shuddered, no longer holding back. His moans grew louder, deeper. You worried your own lower lip between your teeth. Bruce was a sight to behold. Like a Greek god submitting to a mere mortal.
His thighs trembled, pressed together around your wrist while you pressed the vibrator mercilessly against his prostate. With your other hand you massaged his arousal, stroking his tip with your thumb, spreading the first drops of precome over the hard flesh glistening with lube.
He was getting close and you wanted him to come. His pulse beneath your lips raced. "You're so good for me. Tell me how it feels."
Several times Bruce opened his lips, trying to answer, but each time you pushed the vibrator a little deeper, a little meaner, eliciting a moan instead. His lips twisted into a frustrated pout and it was almost adorable to watch. You had to hold back your laughter.
Instead, you pressed your lips against his ear and demanded with a whisper, "Be good. Tell me."
Bruce whimpered. It was an incredible sound that only spurred you on more. Immediately Bruce pressed his lips together, trying to swallow each next gasp, but you began to stroke his heavy cock up and down faster. You wanted - needed - to hear him, to see him crumble and fall under your efforts.
He pulsed in your palm, thrusting his hips up against your movements, against the toy inside him. You knew he was close. A little push of a button stopped the vibrations and you withdrew your hand on his arousal. A deep, shuddering inhale.
"Don't worry. I'll make you come, you just have to answer me, handsome."
If he wasn't wearing a blindfold, he would be staring at you now. Probably an adorable amalgamation of anger, desperation and desire. Three emotions you loved to see on his handsome face. It would be so easy for him to free himself of the cuffs and just take what his body was craving. Yet he didn't.
It was tempting to change the scene, forcing a response from him. To bring him to his limit, only to deny him his orgasm. Torturing him with pleasure until he would beg for his release and answer your every question. With every bit of restraint you could muster, you stuck to your original plan.
"You don't want to answer me? Fine, I'll tell you then."
You lay down next to him, nestled your cheek against his broad chest. Another press of the button and the toy came to life again. You grasped his cock and started to stroke like you never stopped.
"Soft silicone pressing relentlessly against your prostate. Vibrations that travel through your body like lightning strikes. You want me to stop and at the same time you can't get enough." You continued to press little kisses against his chest.
"And the way my hand is gripping your rock hard cock. I can barely wrap my fingers around you. So thick, so hard. Wet with lube, barely enough friction to make you come. But it's good, isn't it? You want more. You'd love to feel my wet, tight pussy pulsing around you, wouldn't you B? But I want you to come in my hand. Over these hot abs. Maybe I'll lick you clean after. Maybe I'll make you do it."
A loud and filthy moan split from Bruce’s lips and his chest vibrated beneath you. Delighted, you nibbled on one of his nipples. "Yeah, I bet you would like that. You look so good, Bruce. And I love your moans. Are you finally going to cum for me? I want to watch you."
Bruce tilted his hips, thrusting toward both, your hand and the vibrator. The deep moan faded into a silent scream as he parted his lips and arched his back in a curve you wouldn't think possible if you hadn’t seen it. Hot cum splattered over your fingers and dripped onto his stomach. Exhausted, he slumped back into the mattress and you couldn't help but stare at him, transfixed. Bruce was stunning when he came.
A light layer of sweat covered his skin. A dusting of lovely red on his cheeks. The heavy rise and fall of his chest. The twitching of muscles that Bruce couldn't control during his orgasm.
You only withdrew the toy when Bruce began to wriggle. The vibrations obviously too much after such a strong climax. You tossed the vibrator aside and pulled the blindfold off his face. Bruce's pupils were dilated, almost swallowing the lovely ring of blue whole. He blinked several times before his gaze focused on you. You rewarded him with a smile, then raised your cum-stained hand to his mouth and pressed your fingers against his lips.
For a few seconds he just returned your gaze, then he opened his mouth and his tongue darted out. Bruce licked you clean, taking his time, never breaking eye contact.
" God, Bruce," you groand, unable to take your eyes off him. It wasn't until your hand was clean, glistening only with his saliva, that you reached up and kissed him deeply. He tasted salty and bitter, but that didn't bother you. Not when his tongue danced greedily around yours, as if that kiss was all that kept him alive.
"Allow me to lick you," he said after you ended the kiss. In any other scene, you would punish him for this demand disguised as a question. If he wanted something from you, he should beg for it - but this time you would turn a blind eye. You had promised that you would focus only on him.
"How could I say no?"