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He can’t remember the last time he had seen her arms bare (yes he can, it was on the rooftop of the club as she had balanced on the ledge in those ridiculously high heels) or the skin of her chest below the hollow of her throat (yes he can, it was when she bleeding out on the stretcher as she was rushed through the hospital with a bullet hole in her stomach). Her skin looks soft from his vantage point perching on the edge of the narrow bed and his fingers twitch as he resists the urge to reach out and touch without invitation.
The winter had been hard in No Man’s Land. The only source of power in the green zone was at the GCPD - hot showers had been rationed and short. Clothes had not been removed unless necessary and Bruce couldn’t remember the last time he had touched Selina without a pair of gloves on.
Spring had hit with a sweet vengeance and as the power used to heat the building had been reduced the hot water allowances had increased.
He had never thought Selina as vain, but had agreed easily when she had asked for a chunk of his hot water time. She had bustled off half an hour ago and now she stood in the middle of her small room (their small room, he hadn’t slept anywhere else for months), feet bare, hair wet and smelling of his soap.
She’s rifling through a bag, bent over slightly and the tiny base layer vest she’s wearing is riding up the small of her back. Maybe he makes a noise at the sight of her skin, he’s not sure, but she looks over her shoulder at him with a raised eyebrow and the corner of her mouth quirked. She looks younger with no makeup on and her hair a long wavy curtain rather than tight curls.
“What?” Selina straightens as she turns to look at him. The fabric of the vest dips into a low v-neck between curves of her breasts. His eyes dance between the freckles and beauty marks that litter the skin there and the lace of her bra peeking out of the low neckline. Bruce meets her gaze, finally, with a small smirk and she scoffs.
“Teenagers,” she mutters with an eye roll. She steps into the space between his legs, her hand reaching to cup his jaw and angle it upwards. Her fingers are cool against his overheated skin and a fingernail scratches against the dusting of dark stubble absentmindedly. “My eyes are up here, kid.”
“I am aware,” Bruce answers quietly. His hands move and bracket around her hips for moment, squeezing slightly before sliding up to the waistband of her trousers and finally coming into contact with her cool skin. It feels as soft as it had looked beneath his calloused hands and her back ripples beneath his hold as he pulls her closer. Selina huffs out a small laugh, feathlight against his skin, before pressing her lips against his.
He curls one of his arms around her waist, the wool of his sweater scratching against her skin as his fingers wrap around her ribs. His other hand skims over her backside before gripping behind her knee and hoisting her into his lap. Selina laughs again, twisting the fingers of one hand into the hair at the nape of Bruce’s neck.
“You smell like me,” Bruce murmurs, pressing a (not so) chaste kiss against the curve of her left breast. He peers up at her through his lashes as she tilts her head to meet his gaze. Her fingers pull at his roots and her eyebrows quirk. “Yeah, yeah, I know where your eyes are.” His hand slides from her knee, back to the curve of her hip. He smiles against the skin of her sternum and kisses a beauty mark there. “It’s not your eyes I’m interested in.”
“Bruce…” Her nails are sharp pin pricks on his neck. It’s not a moan that works its way up from her chest, but a happy sigh as his mouth and teeth and tongue work a path to her neck, the curve of her shoulder, the underside of her jaw.
Selina’s hand moves to the hem of his sweater, twisting in the wool as his teeth scrape against her collarbone. Her hips twist against his, the thick material of their trousers scraping together, and he groans a hot sound into her skin.
“Cat!” They jump as a fist bangs loudly on the door. Selina reels back, Bruce’s arms are still tightly wrapped around her and are the only thing stopping her from falling to the floor. Bullock’s voice calls out again. “Jim needs you to go see Barbara! Get your skates on!”
“Alright, alright,” Selina yells back, turning her head so she doesn’t burst Bruce’s ear drum. She rolls her eyes at him as she moves her hands back to the more neutral areas of his body. “Calm down old man!”
She leans down, crowding into Bruce’s space one final time, to press a soft kiss against his lips. Nimbly, she untangles her legs from around his waist and steps onto the cold floor. Her steady legs don’t betray the fluttering she feels in her stomach as she glances at Bruce over her shoulder. She smiles to herself as he flops back onto the sheets with a sigh, a forearm covering his eyes.
She finishes dressing quickly, pulls her still damp hair into a messy knot and sits on the edge of the bed to shove her feet back into her boots. Bruce peeks at her from underneath his arm, his lips a thin line and his brows furrowed.
Her hand reaches out before she can stop it, her fingertips drumming against his cheekbone and her thumb tracing below his mouth. She scrapes her thumbnail against his bottom lip and he shudders. She smirks at him.
“We’ll finish this later.”