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She swore that normal girls‘ booty calls weren’t that exhausting and time consuming. In the freezing Gotham City night, she hauled herself up onto the Wayne Tower rooftop. By now she knew well enough he liked to come here when on patrol, always at about two o’clock at night. Probably his halfway mark. He came, looked down onto this dumpster fire of a city, allowing himself to take a breather for a few minutes.
And sometimes, she just happened to come by, as well.
Oops, what a coincidence.
Sometimes, they ended up teasing each other and fighting for fun.
Sometimes, she’d done something bad the days before and he was still angry and they fought for real.
Sometimes, they just sat there for ten minutes in silence, more often than not with her arm drawing his big head down to rest on her shoulder.
Sometimes, they just talked. Yeah, he could talk. He even was funny. Well, on the rare days he felt like conversing.
Sometimes, he let her tease him enough to make him shut her up with a kiss. Maybe her flirting was bad? But as long as it worked this well, she wouldn’t bother to improve it.
She sauntered across the wet roof, towards where a dark silhouette hovered next to a granite gargoyle. The boy was such a walking cliché!
Sometimes, she just showed up and looked at him from hungry eyes. And he looked back at her from hungry eyes. Then they’d wordlessly lunge at each other and do it like rabbits. She loved that for a myriad of reasons – that went past having his huge, juicy dick deep inside her. She loved it because this was the only time she ever saw him lose control, just be human, accept pleasure. She loved that she got to know that beautiful body of his, all its details, all its scars. She loved that he trusted her enough to be vulnerable with her, in a physical way. She could hurt him, if she wanted to. Of course she didn’t. Quite the contrary. But the thought that she could was kind of satisfying.
And sometimes, she approached almost noiselessly, cocking an elegant hip and leaning causally against the next gargoyle to his right, looking damn good considering that she’d just scaled a skyscraper in 36 degrees and a light drizzle, and he didn’t even look up to simply say: “No.”
There was something irrationally intense in being rejected like that. For a beat, she looked hurt. Of course, he used that moment to turn his head and look at her. A bit surprised, he smiled.
She raised one eyebrow. She had that gesture down to a T, she prided herself. And indeed, his rare smile stayed on.
“I can’t. I’ve got – an appointment down at the harbor in about ten minutes.”
She huffed. “An appointment, yes?”
“It’s not the pleasant kind of appointment, believe me.”
“Yeah, I do. You’re not too eager about pleasure”, she purred, sarcastically.
“You’re wrong about that”, he said matter-of-factly and then looked at her in a way that made her knees get all wobbly.
“Hm”, she said idiotically, and her voice sounded a little too high-pitched when she did. Also, why was she grinning so stupidly?
Fighting for the proper composure, she said airily: “Well, wouldn’t dare to keep you from a nice brawl. Must be important.”
“It is.”
“It always is.” She stepped towards him, put her hand on his shoulder and looked down onto the city with him. “Well, it’s probably not the best weather for – a date anyway.”
Now it was on him to raise an eyebrow. “A date?”
“Two people meet at a certain time at a certain place. That’s a date, honey.”
He just hummed at that.
“Well, I assume that place doesn’t always have to be a rooftop?”
“As if you’d let me take you home with me”, she smirked at the idea of the big Bat meeting Isis and the strays, stomping around her smallish girl apartment.
“I rather doubt you’d actually let me”, he replied good-humoredly. “I might come back when I have questions about some missing jewels.”
“You’d have to think about some good ways to extort any information from me”, she purred.
“As if I wouldn't know very well how to…”
“Oh, shut up, Bats. You can’t get a girl all riled up and then just leave to beat someone up.” Annoyed, she turned away. “I’d say: Call me when you’re done fighting, but none of us are cell phone people, I guess.”
She saw it on his face then: Even if they had been people who could simply exchange numbers, he felt it would be a step too far to be on an actual booty-call-basis with her. She was still an adversary, after all.
“Not handing out your number to any chick in a tight black catsuit, eh? Get it. Have fun punching your thugs!” She managed a frosty smirk, then turned and jumped across the abyss between the buildings onto the next rooftop, quickly vanishing in the dark.
***
Well, of course she had a phone. A private one. Purple. Strictly a Selina Kyle phone. She might even have an Instagram account. A strictly private one consisting mostly of cat videos. She also had another phone, though, grey and ugly, secured in any way possible, allegedly untraceable, unhackable, every contact saved under a code name. It was a hassle to use, but a necessary one. Only her underworld buddies who had a reason to have it knew the number.
It lit up when she had just made herself a cup of peppermint tea to wind down. Curious, she went and checked the message. An unknown number.
“Should take about two hours. Still awake then? Could come by.”
While laughing out loud, she cursed the bat-eared bastard. There was no plausible way he could have gotten her number. And it didn’t look as if her address was a mystery to him, either. Smooth fucker. Probably had known everything about her for years.
Well, the message was a peace offering. She had his number now. And he obviously wanted to make up for his blatant display of skepticism towards their – whatever their thing was.
“You actually know people who sleep at night?”, she wrote back. “Feel free to drop by, but no bloody boots on my carpet!”
Then she maniacally started to clean up. He didn’t need to know how chaotic she was on his first visit. Also, there were a few trinkets lying around he might recognize from various museum showcases or police posters. She wasn’t eager for that kind of conversation tonight.
Isis lay on the back of the couch, watching her with interest. “Girl, you wouldn’t understand!”, she murmured. And then giggled a little.
***
The two hours had passed. No sign of him. Impatient, she stepped out onto the balcony for a cigarette. It was then that the Bat Signal lit up in the sky. Goddam, couldn’t a girl get laid like ever in this freaking city?
She was still in costume, so she might as well check out what was going to be the next thing on his platter tonight. Slightly annoyed, she put out her cigarette, grabbed her whip and swung from the balcony onto the next building, and from there went on one of her usual reckless courses across the city, towards the GCPD headquarters. Fittingly, an ugly block of concrete. On its roof they’d installed the massive Bat Signal ages ago. She melted into the shadows noiselessly and watched as Gordon stepped out, looking at the sky and then at his wristwatch.
A rustle. A gust of air. Then, footsteps on the pebbles. “Ah, Batman”, Gordon said, relieved. And then stopped in his tracks.
She craned her neck a little and saw why: It wasn’t him. It was his little bird – Robin.
“I’m sorry, Commissioner”, the boy said. “Batman seems to be – busy. At least we can’t reach him via his comms. We’re a bit worried.”
He sounded more than a bit worried. And that was sort of contagious. Suddenly, there was an unpleasant feeling in her gut. (Also, she wondered who “we” was.)
“That’s not good”, Gordon murmured, also sounding uneasy. “And just now there’s a bank robbery on 57th street. I could have used assistance with that.”
“I’ll see if I can help your men at the bank”, Robin said. “Oracle is trying to make sense of his tracker data right now, anyway. There’s not much I can do until I get more intel from her.”
“How common is it that you can’t contact Batman?”, the Commissioner inquired.
“Well, he usually takes a break during patrol when he switches it off. It’s like ten minutes every night. But otherwise – never, really. It’s too important.”
In the shadows, a broad grin spread across her face. How considerate of him. To her – and also to his friends. There’d been a few times that would have been quite traumatizing to listen to. But she also liked the fact that he wanted their casual chatting nights to be private, as well.
Right now, when she was getting all warm and fuzzy thinking of him, he had to disappear! Just her luck.
She didn’t consciously step forward. She only ever noticed that she’d done it after the fact. But there she stood, just steps across from her two archenemies, and said: “He wanted to go to the harbor. Called it ‘an appointment’. Seemed serious and important to him.”
The boy and the cop stared at her.
“How do you know that?”, Robin asked.
She should have expected that question. Well, she hadn’t. Trying not to blush, she mumbled something about having encountered him tonight by chance.
There was innocent confusion in the boy’s gaze, and surprised realization in the Commissioner’s.
“He estimated it would take him two hours, whatever it was. Which were over about half an hour ago.”
Robin didn’t look any less confused. “Why should he tell you that?” His wrinkled his adorable little brow.
She sighed. “Let’s say he wanted to – arrest me, but this thing at the harbor was more important to him.”
Did Gordon actually snort at that? She could have sworn the policeman had snorted as if stifling a stupid little policeman laugh. How dared he!
Robin at least seemed to buy the explanation. It made sense in his righteous little boy brain. “Fine. Is that all he said?”
“Yeah. Sorry. Listen, kid, I’ve got no plans tonight and I’m – feeling kind of repentant for my criminal activity, so I’ll go down to the harbor and look around, okay?”
Gordon eyed her. He had clever, small eyes.
“Wait”, he said. The he went inside and returned a minute later with two walkie-talkies. He gave one to Robin and one to her.
“That’s the GCPD’s take on technology?”, she asked, frowning. “No wonder I’m still walking free.”
“Don’t overdo it, Catwoman”, Gordon growled.
“Right, right.” She needed a cigarette, and soon. “I’m off. Will let you know if I see something.”
“I’m going to sort out the bank robbery and keep you up do date with Oracle’s intel”, Robin said eagerly.
And so they parted. Gordon staring after her, still looking weirdly surprised.
Whoever Oracle was, her intel turned out to be rather disconcerting. Batman’s tracker had done some weird things across the city. Until they realized thanks to traffic camera footage that his utility belt lay on the back of a dumpster truck, on top of a load of trash, that did his usual nightly tour throughout the Diamond District, tidying the streets for the rich folks.
She felt distinctly nauseous now. She knelt on top of an old warehouse. The Gotham harbor smelled even more of decay and dirt than the rest of the city, but it wasn’t the stink that made her stomach turn.
The streets appeared to be empty. Hell, if she at least had a hint as to where to look for him. But everything was dark and quiet. Until a truck came down from the city, ripping the silence with his roar. It was just a truck. But it was something, the only thing. She jumped across the roofs, roughly following it through the deserted streets. It stopped in front of a warehouse. Nothing special so far.
Two workers in boilersuits appeared and shoved a truck-sized gate open. The vehicle disappeared inside and all she saw from the roof across the street was a rusty looking crane move. Probably just poor night shifters doing their job, loading a truck.
Probably. But maybe it was something more nefarious.
“Boys, are you there?” She fiddled with the clunky walkie-talkie. “This place seems to be completely desolated and I’m getting a bit desperate. There’s a truck disappeared into a warehouse at Schmidlapp Avenue. I’m checking it out.”
“Copy”, was Robin’s dutiful reply. God, the boy was kind of heart-warming.
She leaped onto the warehouse, balancing across the gabled roof. The place wasn’t in the best shape, there was quite a substantial hole in the tiles. Nice. Kneeling down, she carefully spied inside.
At first glance, nothing seemed suspicious. Workers were indeed loading a container onto the truck. Some were chatting with the truck driver, smoking. She really would have liked to join them. Still hadn’t had that cigarette she deserved. But weren’t the guys chatting a little too animatedly? And then breaking out in a bout of rather mean laughter.
And then she saw Franco Bertinelli. Franco the Freighter. She knew he’d worked for both Penguin and Falcone. Probably still did. But more importantly: His name came up way too often when she was harboring a girl she’d picked up crying on the street, another one that had been forced into prostitution. Many told her it had been Bertinelli who had sleazed his way into their hearts, who had offered them a job bartending that turned out to not be bartending at all or who collected them at some drop-off point where they’d been brought by another set of bad guys, often after days in the back of a truck, originating from some south American country or another. Bertinelli was bad news. Bad, bad news.
Now she could imagine what that container held. Girls, probably. And maybe, she wondered, the Batman as well? Had they overpowered him? Was he alive? She suspected they’d insulated that container to make sure none of the poor girls could use her mobile phone if she’d managed against all odds to hide it on her body. It would probably also interfere with the Bat’s communication system, explaining his radio silence.
Taking a deep breath, she withdrew a few feet and called Gordon and Robin. She gave them the location and the truck’s license number, also told them about Franco the Freighter.
The Commissioner seemed honestly impressed. “Very good. I’ll send my men. Don’t do anything stupid until then!”
“I’ll come as well”, Robin chimed in. “I’ll bring Nightwing and Batgirl!”
“Woohoo”, she sighed sarcastically. “The whole swarm! What’s it called with bats? A cauldron?”
She could have sworn Gordon had snorted again.
Well, at least he valued her sense of humor.
Gracefully, she climbed back towards the hole in the roof. She really shouldn’t interfere on her own. They were – she counted fifteen. Most of them certainly armed. On the other hand, apart from Bertinelli they were probably just muscle. Maybe she could at least take out a few until the cops arrived?
Waiting for a good moment, she climbed inside, which turned out more tricky than she had anticipated. She swung from one wooden beam to the next like a monkey, until she noiselessly landed in a dark corner of the mostly empty warehouse. From there, she slowly sneaked up towards the crowd around the truck, inching her way forwards, pressed against the wall.
She felt for her gun. She hated firearms and hated using her own, but years ago she had with some surprise realized she was a ridiculously good shot. She hadn’t ever trained much. She just had a knack for it. Since then, she had perfected her weapon-knee-combo. Well, that’s what she called it. Shooting the gun out of an antagonist’s hand, then hitting him right above the knee, so walking was out of the question. She didn’t kill.
Well, maybe she wouldn’t have to use the gun. She always carried cable binders and tape. That might be enough, after all.
When she was close enough to one of the men, she wrapped her whip around his neck and pulled him close.
“Ssssht, honey”, she hissed quietly, and could effortlessly tie him up and cover his mouth with tape – he was completely stunned from surprise. Cute. But not all of them would go down as politely as him.
She managed to take out three more without causing a stir. Those were the ones that stood a little apart. If she wanted to get at any of the others, that wouldn’t go unnoticed. Was she in the mood for a confrontation?
Well, that wasn’t going to be her choice. Bertinelli, cigarette hanging from the corner of his weirdly small mouth, let his gaze roam idly around the warehouse. And somehow he saw the three guys lying in neat little heap in their dark corner. Those mean beady eyes had to be sharp as fuck. She sighed.
“What’s going on there?”, he shouted. “Guys. Careful. Someone’s here – someone who has no business to be.” With the facial expression of a movie villain, he looked around. Most of the men drew guns. Not good. She better made use of the little time she had until they inevitably discovered her hiding beside a thick wooden beam.
With a satisfied smirk, she grabbed her gun, aimed it at Bertinelli’s machine rifle and smashed it out of his hand with a bullet. The next one, not even a second later, hit him in the leg. Some of the thugs yelled and ran to his aid.
Four more men went down like that until one spotted the gleam of her gun in the dark and she was quickly apprehended by the whole gang.
“Easy, boys”, she purred, feeling various gun muzzles pressed against her scalp.
“Boss, it’s Catwoman!”
“What’s that bitch doing here?”
She narrowed her eyes at Bertinelli, who squirmed on the floor.
“Watch your language, dickhead! See, I might just have met one poor girl too many that you sent out onto the streets.”
“Mother Theresa, are you?”, the man sneered while he gingerly sat up, eyeing his bleeding leg. “You fucking shot me!”
“Relax, I’m good at that. It’s no artery and you’ll walk again in two weeks.”
“You want me to say thank you?!”
“No, it’s fine, you’re welcome.” She managed a grin and a naughty wink.
“Shall we kill her, Boss?”
Of course he’d say yes. There was no reason for them to keep her around. So, there was no reason for her to wait for his reply.
Instead, she made her escape into the only direction that was open to her: downwards.
She dropped to her knees, activated the claws in her gloves and grabbed two of the men heartily between the legs. It was mean, sure. It was also effective.
She could slide out of the circle of thugs, while some of them were dumb enough to immediately press the trigger as they sensed her moving. Thus ending up shooting each other – she saw bleeding ears, cheeks and shoulders. Idiots.
From behind, she kicked into backs and legs, making confused men stumble and fall. They yelled at each other and at her, were screamed at by Bertinelli, but if anything, that was counterproductive. The guys were rattled, confused, many were injured, and she was quick, mean and everywhere at once. Her claws did serious damage to some faces. And her whip and pointy heels did the rest. To Bertinelli’s absolute horror, she took down the whole gang, one after the other, single-handedly.
“You bitch!”
Looking as disgusted as she felt, she let her whip snap dangerously close to his face. “Told you to watch your filthy mouth, Bertie. One more slip-up, and it’s going to hurt!”
He did look suitably scared after that.
When she had made sure that everyone was securely tied up, she checked the time. Fifteen minutes had passed since she'd contacted Robin and Gordon. They sure took their sweet time.
Well, it didn’t matter now. She circled the container, trying to find out how to open the thing. As she climbed up and pulled a heavy, slightly rusty bolt aside, there was finally a noise behind her and she heard a stampede of people swarming in. The cops. The bats.
“Stick ‘em up!”
It was an older, chubbier cop that yelled at her, pointing his gun. As if she hadn’t had enough of that tonight. She sighed loudly.
“Are you serious?”
“Of course. Shut up. Hands up!”
Slowly, she did as she was told, looking extremely displeased. “I was just about to grant some poor women their freedom, but well.”
The whole scene was a buzzing mess, but finally, Gordon marched through the crowd and put his hand on the cop’s shoulder. “It’s fine, she’s not who we’re up against tonight. Check the men, collect all their weapons and secure Bertinelli.”
“Yes, Commissioner!”
For that, he’d earned himself a pleased grin and a wriggle of her hips as she turned around again to use all her body weight to yank open the heavy container door.
“Girls?”, she said, voice softer than usual. “You can come out. You’re safe.”
She saw wide eyes in the dark, heard quiet whisper. She repeated what she’d said in Spanish.
“Are you telling the truth? What about the men?”, one woman replied in Spanish, sounding just as sceptical as she would have felt in her position.
“Right now the police deals with them. They are going to jail. I promise you you’re safe.”
The woman who’d spoken up spoke quietly to the others, then they slowly climbed out, one after the other. When the last one was about to jump off the truck, she nodded her head back towards the container.
“There’s still a man in there. He wanted to save us, but they bound him and threw him in there.”
“I thought so.” She gave the woman, a small one with dark curls and a very pretty, intelligent face, a reassuring smile and hoisted herself up into the container. It smelled rank inside. The air was thick and tasted of fear. The women must have been in here, in complete darkness, for days. She shivered.
In the far corner, he crouched. Bound and gagged, bleeding from one side of his mouth. Her face melted with worry and compassion. Quickly, she knelt down in front of him, cut the rope around his wrists and ankles with her claws and got rid of his gag. Her nose was very close to his. Her hand was cupping his cheek, her thumb gently rubbing away the blood.
“Are you okay?”
He looked her deep in the eyes. Cleared his throat laboriously. And then said: “One inappropriate message, and you immediately hasten to my rescue? Seems urgent.”
His lips quivered. He could hardly contain his laughter.
She had to take a deep breath to not scream at him.
“You want another slap in that stupid face of yours, do you?”, she yelled, and added a heartfelt groan for good measure. “I was worried sick, and your …”
Just as she wanted to mention his poor little bird, Robin actually appeared. “Batman!”
At least he had the decency to blush a little.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. It was just bad luck. When I came here, there were just four guys watching over the container. I had them rounded up, all was well. And then Bertinelli came in with the others. Hadn’t expected that.”
“What? You couldn’t deal with a measly fifteen men?”, she snorted.
“She actually did”, Robin said, awkwardly, pointing his elbow towards her. “She’d taken them all down when we arrived.”
Impressed, he looked her over. She could swear he silently mouthed “urgent”. Fucker.
“Always happy to help”, she murmured.
She stepped outside and felt almost sullied by her good deed. What had she been thinking? Doing this hero bullshit?
Gordon stood around, sucking on a cigar, observing the scene.
Batgirl and Nightwing had joined Robin in the container. They looked after their hero and probably debriefed.
With a wary side-eye, she joined the Commissioner and fumbled at her belt for a cigarette. She’d earned that. “You got a lighter?”
He just nodded and held one out for her. “So the police is good for something, after all”, she mumbled, lit her cigarette and gave it back.
“How long?”, Gordon finally asked.
Ah, it was late. She was tired. She giggled.
“Timewise”, he said sternly.
“Hm”, she murmured, trying for seriousness. “I guess about a year now?”
The Commissioner huffed. “He does appear to be a little more well-adjusted recently.”
She didn’t crack any of the jokes she could have cracked, just smiled fondly instead. “He’s a good guy. Just a little bonkers.”
“Yeah, that would have been my assessment as well.” He blew thick, sweet cigar smoke into the cold air. “I’m surprised, though. Didn’t take him for someone who … allows himself to go for … an antagonist.”
“Well, from my perspective, you guys are the antagonists”, she growled. And then shrugged. “He struggles. But I can be pretty convincing.”
“I don’t doubt that.” Gordon smirked into his cigar stump. “Well, for what it’s worth, as long as it’s doing him some good, I approve.”
“I definitely don’t need you to”, she said curtly, but then relaxed into a tired smile. “But I guess it’s nice of you anyway.”
***
With all the hullaballoo and about a million people swarming around the scene, there was no way in hell she could get him alone. So, she took off pretty quickly and tried to do what she’d tried to avoid all night: go to sleep.
***
A noise awoke her. Rustling and clattering. She opened one eye. There, in the half-darkness of her bedroom, stood a nearly naked Batman. Just the cowl was still in place. She opened the second eye as well and gave him a slow once-over.
It looked kind of hot, but also kind of ridiculous.
“Tell me we’re going to at least work towards getting rid of the cowl some day.”
“If I ask you to lay back and keep your eyes closed, would you promise me to keep them closed?”
She smirked. “Whatever floats your boat, honey.”
Lazily, she kicked off the duvet, stretched gracefully and presented him with her completely naked body. It was gratifying to hear him swallow hard.
“Eyes closed!”
“Fine, fine.”
She heard more rummaging, then felt him climb onto the bed. The Batman was actually in her apartment. In her bed. It was completely ridiculous. But, well, she had saved his ass tonight, he might as well show a little gratefulness.
When his tongue made contact with her clit, she squeaked with surprise. If this was his kind of gratefulness, she was here for it!
She felt him laugh quietly into her most intimate parts while he proceeded to eat her out languidly, with all the appropriate devotion. God, he was good at that. It didn’t take long until she was squirming and groaning, and when he started to gently bite and suck, she came with a helpless yell, deliciously convulsing beneath him.
But now she needed more. Damn, she needed him inside her, as deep as anatomically possible, and quickly. Her hands reached down to awkwardly pat his head and pull him up towards her, and her fingers touched – hair.
“Oh”, she said. Eyes closed. She got it now.
“The cowl would have gotten in the way”, he said, as if apologizing. He really was strange.
She heard him put it on again. A pity, but at least now she could look at him again.
“I touched your hair”, she said, and smiled stupidly. He grinned, surprised. “Okay, and – was it good?”
“Yeah. After all, it seems even harder to get at than your dick!”
“Let me assure you, for most people both are equally impossible to ‘get at’.”
Under these circumstances she’d never be able to get rid of her stupid smile.
“Should I feel privileged, then?”
“Are you?”
“Kind of?”
His mouth came down upon her breasts. Warm lips hovered over the tender skin, causing gooseflesh to spread. Teeth started to play with her nipples. This was the one thing that drove her seriously mad very quickly.
“Honey, inside. Now.”
“I assumed now that we’re not out in the cold and limited to ten minutes, we could take it a bit slower?”
Delicious pain spread from the nerves of her nipples to absolutely every other nerve in her body, making her pussy yearn for attention.
“Now!”
“So it’s that urgent, yes? I knew it.” He smirked.
“Oh, you’re such a nuisance!”
He bit just a tiny bit harder and she moaned like someone with no self-control.
“Am I?”
“Bats”, she looked up at him from desperately hungry green eyes. “Please fuck me with that beautiful dick of yours. Now.”
He kissed her mouth at that, fiercely, and did as he was asked. Rather impatiently, his warm, thick penis was shoved inside her, making her groan and sigh happily with every inch of progress. They found a pleasant, gentle rhythm at first, more gliding than thrusting, but soon that wasn’t enough anymore.
She shifted onto all fours, presenting him with her impeccable ass, and had him hammer into her doggy-style. Which he seemed to like quite a bit – his fingers on her hips involuntarily pressed harder and harder into her skin.
She loved to feel him so deep, his balls slamming against her clit at each thrust, she loved the passion intertwined with viciousness. And she came, breathlessly screaming, pressing herself so hard back against him with the last move she was capable of that not even a hair’s breadth of his dick was left outside her. He groaned helplessly and came as well, his hot cum shooting into her. An utterly delicious feeling.
They laid beside each other for a while, breathing heavily, not talking.
“Well, so all of tonight’s hassle was worth it, after all”, she finally said, smiling very contentedly.
He laughed. “I can’t imagine I’m the only guy who’s willing to – help you out?”
“You’re the only one I would let – help out”, she said, her pride piqued a little. She knew he’d meant it as a compliment, but, damn it, she was a picky girl. He needed to know that.
“The only one?”
“M-hm.”
He was silent for a while. “Do you think this is more than just, you know, a thing between us?”
“Honey, I’m not going to scare you off until we’ve found out if you’re interested in a second round. Tonight, this is whatever the hell you want it to be.”
“Hm.” He hummed into her shoulder blade as he hugged her from behind. “I think I'd like it to be a much more regular thing, at least.”
She turned her head to kiss him. “You say that now while I haven’t nicked the Alawarian ambassador’s jewels yet. Let’s talk again after.” She grinned into his mouth.
“You’re not going to do that.”
“Oh Bats, I definitely will.”
“Well, I won’t let you”, he growled. She giggled.
“That will be fun, but you won't be able to stop me.” She winked at him. “But how about some precautious punishment?” He could slap her ass any time.
“I feel like the adequate punishment would be for me to go home”, he said, smirking maliciously, and swung one leg out of the bed. She didn’t manage to keep her facial expression in check. Damn it. He straight up laughed out loud at her look of horror.
“Seems like that’d be too hard on you”, he murmured gleefully, pulling his leg back under the cover. “So … what’s your proposition?”
Well, she certainly had some ideas to discuss with him.