Author: Kat Lee
Challenge/Prompt: beattheblackdog 103: Detail
Word Count: 1,477
Date Written: 19 March 2018
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to DC Comics, not the author, and are used without permission.
She’s planned every detail of this meeting in her mind since even before she realized that returning to Gotham was inevitable. She’s planned and schemed over every touch, every caress, every kiss. But even her wildest imaginings have yet again failed to prepare her for the actual event.
Selina throws her head back as Bruce pushes gently against her mask. She’s purring now, and doing so without even thinking about it. Her back arches as her hips welcome the bulge in his tight, spandex pants. The thought that there is something to be said for spandex after all is fleeting, but she knows it doesn’t matter what he’s wearing. It never matters whatever he’s wearing. The cutest of outfits or tightest of uniforms is just the frosting on the cake, and that cake is bursting with catnip, catnip that, if she’s not careful, will one night yet prove to be fatal to her.
How many times have they danced this same, old dance? She has no idea. She can’t begin to count them. But it doesn’t matter how many times they have done it or how many times they will still do it. She’s never going to be over this man. She’s never going to be able to put her brain in control of her emotions where he’s concerned. She’s never going to be able to win against him.
She moans against his lips as he deepens their kiss, his hot, eager tongue pushing even further down into her mouth. She knew she shouldn’t have come back to Gotham, but she’d had little choice. Not all of her babies had come when she’d called them before having to leave. She’d had to return for them, if nothing else, if no one else.
But she had been so careful. She’d even made certain that the Penguin was unleashing one of his quacked capers before entering the city itself. She’d felt for certain that the Batman would be distracted. She should have been able to get in and out of the city without the Bat noticing, but she hadn’t counted on his sidekicks finally becoming so adept at helping him.
She most certainly hadn’t counted on melting at one touch from him, but that’s all it had taken to crumple all of her carefully constructed defenses -- a single touch, a single brush of his gauntleted hand against her own, a single look from those piercing, blue eyes. The man can read her better than anybody else. He’s the only man who can read her, and it’s quite possible, Selina has been forced to realize, that he understands her perhaps even better than she understands herself.
They haven’t wasted any words tonight. They haven’t needed any. She can tell in his every touch how much he’s missed her and wants her to stay, how sorry he is for every time he’s arrested her, every time he’s hurt her, every time he’s betrayed her . . . She’s never once hesitated about pulling away from anybody else who has ever hurt her, so what is it about this man that makes him so very different?
She tries to claw her way to a conscious level of thinking. She knows she’s losing this battle, and she doesn’t want to lose it. If she continues losing the fights, she might one night lose the war and allow him to change her. No man changes the Catwoman! And yet . . . Yet this man already has.
She’s told herself every fact and lie she could think of to make herself stay away from him throughout the nights she’s been away. She knows all the facts. She knows every time he’s lied to her. She can always tell when a man is lying to her, even when he’s speaking a lie no matter how much he doesn’t want to lie to her. And no matter how much he doesn’t want to lie to her, he still does. He always will. He can’t help it. It’s his nature, as a hero, to always try to stop her.
But she’s not the villain he thinks she is. Her ways are simply different than his, but she does much of the same things he does. She protects innocents, only she’s more careful in selecting which innocents she benefits. He donates large sums of money to charitable causes. She didn’t inherit any wealth, being a parentless orphan, but she does inherit wealth quite regularly through other causes and keeps little of it herself, preferring instead to give large sums of it to those who need it worse than she does. He takes children underneath his proverbial wings. She takes furry children underneath her care, as well as the occasional, human orphan.
They both fight for a better world. They’ve both carved a chunk out of this one to make a place for themselves, and they both use it to fight for a better world and better lives for those who can not fight for themselves. Yes, they are very much the same, and yet also very, very different. The Devil, as they say, is in the details.
Bruce lifts his unmasked head and breathes huskily against her swelling lips. “Selina,” he speaks the first words either of them has spoken all night, “stop thinking.”
“Really?” Her back arches as her eyebrows rise. She gives him a hissing image but doesn’t actually voice the sound. “That’s some command coming from the man who’s the reason why we never work out.”
“Then leave me,” he challenges, withdrawing his arms from around her and instantaneously making her feel cold and lonely inside, “if you want to.” It’s as if a part of her own self has been taking as he pulls away from her, but then his fingers reach out and gently grip her elbow.
The small, simple touch seems to awaken the fire that is always inside of her whenever he’s near. Her body doesn’t feel like it’s on fire. It’s something deeper, more primal, more private. It feels like a fire has been started in the very veins beneath her flesh beneath the costume he’s touching. It starts there, but it sweeps all throughout her body. She arches again, and this time, a small hiss of protest does emit from her snarling lips.
“Really?” Bruce smiles; she wants to scratch that smug, self-confident smile from his lips. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
He’d known she would all along, she thinks, but she can’t help it. He’s the only man in the world who is like the deadliest, most potent catnip to her. She can’t tell him no. She can’t pull away from him. She yearns for his touch far too badly, and when he pulls away from her as he just did, she wants to whimper. She almost wants to even beg for him to return and keep touching her, keep caressing her, keep loving her.
Even now, Selina’s mind hisses at her that he can not be trusted and that he does not love her and never will. She knows not only that her belief that he will never love her is right but also that it is the most important detail of this, or any, of their encounters. He does not, can not love her, but yet, despite herself, she loves him. That’s what makes her weak for him. That’s why she feels that fire for which she always aches for more. That’s what truly gives him power over her.
And yet she can not help it. She needs him! She loves him, and, damn the details, she always will! His lips touch hers again. She opens beneath him,letting him in not just to her mouth and her body but to her heart and her very soul. He’s already there anyway, no matter what she does or says, no matter what lies she may tell even to herself in the dead of night, no matter how much she knows that all of this is just yet another mistake in a long line of them that will bring her more pain and suffering. She loves him, and for one more night, she gives in to the fire, in to the longing, in to the love that will never last for him but always will for her, in to the love that ultimately condemns her and makes herself her own worst enemy.
A flutter of wings is heard as bats flee the rooftop. Cats meow and prowl, some prowling after the bats and others hesitating nearby, just in case and for when their rescuer will need them. And on the humid, night air, a purr loud enough to fill Gotham is heard as facts are yet again denied and a love greater than anything anyone else in the whole of the city has ever known persists again for one more night.