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Beneath the covers, Selina stirred, vaguely aware that something was off. There were no arms around her, no chest pressed to her back, no legs tangled with hers – hell, even the bare minimum, she had both of her hands free since someone wasn’t holding at least one of them. It was wrong.
It was never a good thing when Selina woke up without Bruce because it usually meant he never made it to bed in the first place, and she could always tell because of how they slept together: some part of him was always touching her. The stubborn ass would never admit to it, nor would he call it cuddling himself, but Selina was prone to ignore his opinion on the matter because he was touch starved, socially inept, and regularly denied himself what he truly wanted (she was working on all three with Alfred’s guidance). Selina decided it was cuddling, so cuddling it was. And Bruce loved it. At first she’d been resistant – it felt like a trap to her, him constantly touching her to perhaps keep tabs on her person (and what was or wasn’t in her pockets because ulterior motives weren’t foreign to Batman), but the more they'd slept together, the more she’d realized he was just like that.
Bruce’s desire for cuddling came out the strongest at night, and Selina had definitely worked on him enough so it no longer felt like he was caging her in. Originally she wasn’t able to escape his hold at night (because sneaking out of bed to freak out about what the fuck she was doing fucking Batman of all people, who was actually billionaire Bruce Wayne, had been a favorite pastime of hers in the early days), but now there was only one particular case where she couldn’t move freely at night. So when she woke up without Bruce spooning her, the norm when he got to bed after she’d fallen asleep, or beneath her head (his chest made the perfect pillow), even her mostly asleep mind knew something was not right.
There was a range of reasons why Bruce wouldn’t be in bed with Selina when she woke up. The best case scenario happened when he was too absorbed with investigating something for a case and spent the night in the Batcave, a nastily unhealthy habit Selina was breaking him from with assurances from Alfred that she’d made great headway in. The next best scenario, which was only a good reason because of the ultimate outcome, were the nights he got scooped up for unplanned Justice League missions and came back in worse shape than going a few rounds with Croc. Being Batman also came with normal nightly risks, the middle grounds which Selina considered okay nights at their best, like the times where he physically couldn’t make it back to bed for various reasons – if Ivy has him in her thrall (rare occurrences given Bruce’s asexuality and ability to predict when she might be upset enough at something to make Batman a target), passed out in some Gotham alleyway or rooftop, or times when he made it back to the cave and called Alfred for medical assistance he couldn’t adequately do himself.
The bad scenarios where Bruce wasn’t wrapped up with her under the sheets were the times Selina woke up and found him sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into space, or standing by the window with a vacant expression. He was unresponsive on those nights until she made herself too hard to ignore, and something inside her always died a little the more she had to coax him into a fitful sleep with his head in her lap and her fingers combing through his hair. The worst case scenarios were when she woke up, barely able to breathe, pressed into the mattress by his usually delicious weight in a protective hold for long enough that her body couldn’t take it much longer. His body was present, but much like the bad nights, Bruce’s mind remained elsewhere, lost in whatever horrors he’d seen (or hallucinated, thanks to Scarecrow). Bruce was a bear to wake up under normal circumstances, but on those nights, Selina had to wake him up twice – once to get him to move, and once to pull him out of the past that trapped and bound him.
As Selina’s arm reached out in front of her, patting nothing but cool sheets in search of a body she already knew wouldn’t be there, she was completely unaware of the subconscious rolodex her mind went through to try and figure out why he might be missing. All she knew was no human heater. Wrong. Not even a warm indent left in the sheets. Wrong. No presence around her at all. Something’s wrong.
Sluggishly, Selina sat up, rubbing at her eyes as much as the unease building behind them. The room was dark, unfamiliar, and felt far smaller than usual with blank, nondescript walls pressing in. The door, far closer than it should be if she were at Wayne Manor, stood slightly ajar, but no light trickled in. Selina’s eyes quickly adjusted to the weak moonlight coming in from the window, and as she remembered it was the first night of the vacation she’d dragged Bruce to, she registered the sound of running water. It was too far away to be coming from the adjoined bathroom, which meant he was in the kitchenette of their cabin. Definitely not a good thing for him to forgo sleep when that was the thing he was supposed to be getting a surplus of on (an admittedly imposed) vacation, and Bruce in any kitchen, no matter how small and how few appliances it had, wasn’t exactly a good thing either.
Selina yawned, slowly coming to terms with the fact she’d have to leave the warm bed to find and coax her missing partner back to bed where he belonged. The cobwebs on her brain were still very present, but they were almost blown away in one fell swoop when she swung her bare legs out from under the sheets. Selina hissed as she immediately started losing body heat, her nightwear of a (stolen) pajama top and not much else unable to protect her from the frigid air permeating the cabin. Slipping silently from the bed on far slower and heavier limbs than she normally would, she crossed the few feet to the bedroom door to pull it completely open before her teeth started chattering.
Just like the bedroom, all the lights within the rest of the cabin were off, even in the pitch black of a winter night in a state park, but it didn’t surprise her. Selina never turned on lights at night when she woke up, and she’d found out Bruce was the same way once their nightly meet ups turned into sleepovers and she learned what the face beneath the graphite mask looked like. It had been disconcerting the first time, since he moved as silently as he thought he did on the rooftops without a cape dragging behind him, and he looked every bit as much of a vampire as the rumors claimed when his pale form ghosted behind her in the bathroom mirror on the way to the toilet. Two half asleep minds of Gotham nighttime people do not react the same way to surprise as normal people – surprised at night got them killed, so both had come out swinging instead of screaming at the fright. Selina ended up with bruises on the back of her ass from a forceful shove into the counter and Bruce with new cat scratches on his cheek, but it was a part of learning what it meant for them to have a relationship, which was a bumpier road than either of them initially expected for far different reasons than anticipated.
Cognizant of the potential threat of surprising Bruce, half lidded eyes spotted a large, dark shadow, and Selina padded his way with her arms already raising so when she reached him, they immediately slipped around his waist with ease. Her face found the space between his moving shoulder blades, and Selina let out a contented sigh from the immediate warmth his back provided her. Bruce hadn’t reacted at all to her arms appearing around him, meaning he’d thankfully heard her approach, but he did lean back into her embrace momentarily to acknowledge her presence.
“What are you doing up?” His low voice rumbled up from his chest, and Selina smiled, pressing an ear to his back instead of her face. It was worth the sacrifice of warmth to hear his voice echo through his body.
“Come back to bed, Bruce,” she murmured in favor of ignoring his question, slipping her hands beneath his cotton shirt to steal more warmth from him. The icy touch from her hands caused his muscles to tense and jump, and Selina smirked, wondering what the reaction would be if her hands went lower to a different part of his body. But at the moment, her brain was far more focused on warmth to combat the chill seeping into her skin. His solid body provided a nice support for her to lean against and rest, with the added bonus that heat he exuded felt divine against her gooseflesh covered skin. A win-win scenario as far as she was concerned for the moment, digging her nails in slightly and causing his muscles to tense again.
“I won’t be much longer. Go back without me.” As Bruce’s voice rose up his torso, a purr curled up Selina’s. Growing more and more content with each passing second, between leaning against him as he washed the dishes and spoke, her mind started shutting down again, but her hands wandered, as was their wont. Because, well, there were other activities that would happen to warm her up, and all of them involved keeping his very solid and nice body pressed tightly to hers. She dragged her nails lightly across his skin, leaving twitches in her wake, both hands moving up Bruce’s torso in an achingly slow path through his chest hair and over the scars dancing across his flesh. Rising up to her toes, Selina pressed a kiss to the back of his neck before starting an open-mouthed path to get as close to his ear as she could, grazing her teeth across his neck when her hands finally reached their destination and her nails sank into the familiar squish of his unflexed pecs. It sent a familiar hum through her body, warming the parts not touching his.
“Selina—” Bruce's voice caught in his throat, strung almost as tight as his body felt when she found the tender spot by his ear and bit down lightly before sucking on his skin. While marking her territory, Selina’s right hand started to drift back down when a soapy hand caught her elbow in protest before she could reach her intended destination that was rising to greet her. It wasn’t a heavy touch – in fact, she barely felt the fingers wrapping around her elbow, but it was enough for her hand to go back up to his chest and her mouth to release his neck. She chuckled, pressing a chaste kiss to soothe his heated skin before sinking back down to her heels to return to her previous position with her own ear pressed to his back
Selina wasn’t in the business of pushing him when he didn’t want to be pushed (on matters like these, at least), and Bruce had thankfully never been shy about telling her when to stop. Subtle, sure, but never shy. If he wanted to do something else, he let her know – like if he wanted to wash the dishes for whatever reason even though they’d decided earlier to do them in the morning, that was his business. But it also meant he wasn’t leaving until they were done. Neither one of them did things by halves, and Bruce especially couldn’t leave things unfinished (Selina’s toes curled and another purr erupted in her throat as memories simmered beneath her sleepy fog, nails unconsciously digging into his chest again).
“Tell me about soap. Explain washing dishes,” Selina said softly, curling into him the best she could. Both of them knew she wasn’t going to leave without him, both unconsciously aware of how many times she found him awake at night and couldn’t leave him to his own devices, and she decided to make the best of things since she was going to stand around while he washed dishes. Selina’s arms curled upwards, almost like the straps of a backpack on him, to help brace her body steadily against his, and she ducked her head to get as much of her face pressed to Bruce’s warmth as she could while also keeping an ear to his back. The two things she wanted were his warmth and to hear his voice vibrate around his chest, in tune with the steady beat of his heart, one of the most soothing sounds to her.
“Soap works because it breaks apart the phospholipid bilayer of grease and oils. Oil and water don’t mix, so…” Selina closed her eyes as Bruce explained how soap could break down the dirt and other grossness that accumulated on skin and dishes, giving him a light squeeze.
While it was a well known fact in Gotham that Bruce Wayne never went to formal high school, globe trotting instead of hitting the books, and widely assumed he either cheated or bought his way in to Yale when he came back from traveling (before dropping out after one semester), Bruce had an encyclopedic knowledge on just about anything. Biology had been one of his specialties even before the rise of Batman, because Selina had found old notebooks covered in childish scrawl full of human and animal biology. Alfred told her it was the phase Bruce went through when he was imitating his father and then brought out some of the cutest child photographs Selina had ever seen of Bruce traipsing about in Thomas’s clothes. A trait that the foppish Bruce Wayne cover that was true to Bruce’s nature was the natural ability to ramble about things he knew a lot about (or, when he was in society, things he knew “nothing” about), and asking him to explain how washing dishes worked was a surefire way to calm him as much as her if the reason he left bed was bad.
In actuality, though, Bruce didn’t need to be soothed. He’d left bed simply because he couldn’t sleep, unable to shut his brain off at a time it normally geared up to prevent crime. Something mundane as washing dishes could, by his estimation, be boring enough to shut him down, but he wouldn’t have left bed had he known it’d wake Selina up less than five minutes after he left. Bruce mentally cursed himself as he continued to explain how soap was effective where just water was not because of the polarity – he always woke up in the middle of the night if Selina left (which, he granted, might be because he acted like her blanket and/or pillow on every night he could), so it was stupid of him to assume she wouldn’t notice his absence.
Bruce adjusted his stance slightly, still explaining the duality of soap molecules and how they bonded with both grease and water, when he felt Selina lean more heavily into him. She didn’t weigh nearly enough to knock him off balance, even if she put her whole weight against him, but he felt it best to be prepared for anything, especially given her tendency to jump him (literally and figuratively) combined with her hands that had been wandering a scant few minutes before. Not that he minded. Selina respected physical boundaries far more than she did ones set on buildings attempting to keep her away from pretty things. The corner of Bruce’s lip curled upwards when she nuzzled deeper into his back, causing him to use his left arm less to not jostle her with his scapula. It was okay, though – he was on the last few pots, and since there the cabin came with a drying rack, he didn’t need to towel dry any of their dishes.
“Almost done, kitten,” Bruce said, interrupting her requested info dump when he felt the majority, if not all of, of her weight leaning into his back. Unable to see Selina’s face, he took it as a sign of impatience that respected his earlier wishes because that’s what she usually did (unless it was the wee morning hours in the cave and she was fed up with him refusing to go to bed – then she just flopped down into his lap in a way he couldn’t ignore).
His insides warmed as Bruce smiled, wishing he could grip one of her hands in his own – he didn’t, though, on account of his shirt being a barrier between them, since her hands were still pressed to his upper chest, and because he was pretty sure Selina wouldn’t appreciate the cold, soapy feel of his hand stealing all of the warmth from her that she’d worked so hard to steal from him. Starting a relationship with Catwoman, notorious from her come ons to him, had made him nervous on the sex angle, but Selina respected his space far more than anyone else had that wanted a relationship with Bruce Wayne that wasn’t a billionaire playboy cover girl. “Far more” was an understatement, really, because she recognized subtle signs he didn’t even know he gave to say he wasn’t feeling it, and she always stopped without hesitation or resentment, unlike all of the few other women he’d attempted to let into his life.
“Almost done, kitten, almost done,” Bruce repeated softly, chest feeling like a hearth for her. Making quick work of the remaining dishes, he made sure to dry his hands fully before taking Selina’s elbows gently between his fingers, regretfully dragging her hands down his torso and out from under his shirt so he could turn and face her. Though he let go with his left hand, Bruce’s right slid down her forearm to tangle their fingers together as he turned to face her; the heat nearly bursting his chest open demanded it. In less time than it’d take him to blink, his fingers tightened on hers instinctively; Bruce’s body reacted faster than his mind as Selina started tipping one way, using the new grip he had to reel her into tipping into him instead of the floor. Selina’s chin jerked up, and she shook her head slightly, sniffing.
“Done? Bed?” She blinked blearily up at him, eyebrows furrowing as she tried to piece things together in a sleepy fog. Bruce blinked back, mouth slightly open, not quite sure he believed what must be true to have someone as surefooted as Selina askew. She gave a small growl when he didn’t respond immediately, folding back into him like she just had been, only her face pressed into his chest instead of his back; it seemed, to Bruce, that she didn’t want to carry her own weight. Not that he minded in the least.
“Done?” Selina asked again after about a minute of neither one of them moving. Bruce grunted in response, bringing a hand up to rub her back. Though he was pretty sure she understood his affirmation, she made no move to leave his personal bubble or to even stand on her own accord instead of using him as a prop. Feeling more and more useless with each passing second, Bruce looked down at her, wondering if she’d drifted off again.
“… Selina?”
“Stupid.”
Selina leaned back to shove lightly at his chest, far lighter than even the times when she was joking, and Bruce got the message. He bent down to wrap his arms around her, forearms becoming a seat for her as he hefted her up and brought her thighs around his waist. Selina normally jumped to assist him with the lift and then locked her ankles behind his back so she could help support herself on his hips, but Bruce wasn’t exactly surprised when neither one of those things happened. She draped herself over his torso, pressing a chaste kiss to the side of his neck before tucking her face closer, and her arms wrapped loosely around his neck – but nothing else that she usually did when he picked her up, not even her teasing wiggles against his front to arch anything of hers closer to his, happened. Once she was settled against him, though, Bruce adjusted his grip to palming her upper thighs to have better support should she start to move.
“Tired, hm?” Bruce chuckled, intentionally jostling her some; her weight felt comfortable to him, fingers digging into her muscles. Selina blew a raspberry into his neck as a response, too proud to justify herself with words. It had been a long drive, something Bruce knew she wasn’t fond of, after a long night where he fully knew he should’ve gone to bed with her far sooner than he did, too busy trying to prep the case files and patrol routes for Dick. He’d only relented to her wishes around five in the morning, and they’d hit the road at ten. He’d also definitely tuckered her out even more when they’d put off the dishes earlier for more filling activities after a couple hours on the trails. Bruce’s cheeks burned, wanting to eat his teasing words, as he came to the realization she hadn’t gotten more than seven hours of sleep in the past strenuous twenty-four hours because of him.
“Mm. Doesn’t help when you leave. ‘S cold. Move or else,” Selina mumbled, and though nothing came with her threat, Bruce took a few chastised steps towards the bedroom door she’d left wide open.
“You could wear more clothes. Just a thought,” he teased, wanting to change the subject, which earned him another raspberry blown into his neck. He’d heard enough about him being her personal furnace that he knew the argument was futile – it also made him vaguely curious at what she’d do in the summer now that she lived with him. They’d slept together during summer months before, but that was only after neither one of them had clothes on anymore. He supposed they’d cross that bridge when they got there, but he filed it away as something to think about to ease the transition and possibly have a plan of action for when summer came.
When they reached the door, Bruce kicked it shut behind them instead of jostling Selina again to free up a hand. A few strides took him to the bed where he deposited her carefully on her back in the spot she’d left with the covers shoved back. A ghost of a smirk immediately formed on her lips, and her hands that had previously been slipping from his shoulders to fall at her sides stopped, gripping his shirt to keep him leaned over her.
“Thought we weren’t pitching tents since we’ve got a cabin,” Selina said, voice lower than before as she tugged on his shirt. Bruce followed the tug even though he could’ve prevented it, forearms forming a barricade around Selina’s head to hold his weight as he leaned over her, feet still on the cabin floor. She met him halfway, soft lips melting against his and immediately coaxing them open; she still tasted faintly of toothpaste even though it had been a few hours since they’d been in the bathroom. Bruce inhaled sharply when her left hand moved to grip the hair at the back of his neck and her teeth sank into his bottom lip, causing the tension in his abdomen to tighten. He pulled back, ready to give Selina's neck a mark that matched the one on his own, when he noticed her half lidded eyes. They were soft when, usually, even on the most languid of times, they were alert and followed him closely. She hadn’t even chased his face as he leaned back or pulled on his hair to bring him back down to her. Bruce bit his lip, hands forming biting fists as he leaned forward to rest his forehead on hers.
“Selina?” Bruce looked deeply into her eyes – or, rather, he attempted to. Selina’s eyes were on the verge of closing, and she breathed deeply, her grip on his hair loosening. His heart beat a rapid tango in his chest, and he willed it to even out and stop pumping so much blood to places he didn’t need it to.
“Hmm?” Her voice was still low, but he could recognize it now – it wasn’t the voice she used to intentionally rile him up, and whatever word she said lacked enough enunciation to sound like anything other than a grunt. Bruce closed his eyes, chest feeling like a concave lens as he steeled himself for the rare time where he had to contain himself when Selina wasn’t in the mood (or, in this case, too tired to be an active, consenting participant).
“Go to sleep. I won’t leave this time.” He leaned away enough to press a kiss to her forehead before removing himself completely, straightening up beside the bed to her soft protests and even weaker attempts to keep her fists on his person.
“Ravish me,” she pouted as her arms fell to her sides limply, palms facing upwards as if to welcome him in. Her wish was usually his command; Bruce delighted in causing her pleasure. Selina always stole his breath away, especially clad as she was in the matching button down for the pajama pants he wore. In setting her down, the bottom edges had ridden up, revealing a tantalizing amount of upper thigh, and his fingers itched to run along her bronze skin, to feel the sinewy beauty again. She was a work of art he could stare at all day and worship when the itch came (or when she scratched enough for it to come when he wasn’t opposed), but he couldn’t very well appreciate her heady pleasure if she wasn’t fully awake.
With great effort, Bruce moved his gaze from caressing Selina’s strong, welcoming thighs to higher ground, following the hills and plateaus his overly large, bunched up shirt made across her abdomen, the abdomen his lips paid homage to on a regular basis. His gaze didn’t linger at the hints of skin between the buttons, skin his fingers begged to make featherlight touches on as they either moved up or down, whichever way he’d be inclined in moving based on the directions he received – but he wouldn’t be told where to go, not now when she wasn’t even reaching for his hips despite the open invitation to show his adoration for her. Bruce’s abdomen tightened again, painfully, when he noticed the slight shadows that told him the goosebumps peppering Selina's skin weren’t the only visible sign she still felt cold. He took a breath to brace himself when he got past her slim neck to her face where her eyes weren’t even watching him with her usual hunger, an ironic smile worming itself onto his lips.
“Only when you can keep your eyes open for more than five seconds,” Bruce sighed, physically scooting Selina over, with very little resistance, so he had room to climb onto the mattress beside her. She didn’t even wait for him to pull the covers up over both of them before curling into his side, tucking her head against his chest since he lay on his back - he could’ve sworn she muttered another, “Stupid,” as she did so, causing his smile to turn genuine. A small shiver passed through her body, but not due to excitement of any kind. He made sure the blankets were pulled up to her chin before tangling his fingers in her hair, shifting her to hold her close as he could to his body with his other arm. He stroked Selina’s curls, and the hearth-like heat bloomed in his chest again as he looked down at her, taking care to slow his breathing and heartbeat to lull her back to sleep quickly. He felt lucky, so stupidly lucky, to have her in all of her oddly grumpy glory, cuddled up with one arm thrown over his waist and one leg over his thighs, heel digging into his calf. Bruce wasn’t sure what he did to deserve Selina or the feelings she brought him, but he dwelled on them and his slow breathing to eventually fall asleep himself, dreams full of rooftops hundreds of miles away and a cat burglar safely wrapped up in his arms.
Slowly, the light leaking into the room turned from a silvery blue to a weak gray as the sun began to rise, warming up through hues of pinks and purples to settle on a soft marigold. Selina was ruefully awake to see the beautiful color change, woken up by fitful twists that her pillow slash partner made in his sleep. Selina brushed her knuckles against Bruce’s temple, all too aware of what waking him from a nightmare would produce – bruises and apologies and brooding, none of which she wanted on a vacation. So she kept her distance mentally to not be affected by the ways his face twisted, instead focusing on trying to soothe his body enough for him to wake on his own quickly while keeping her eyes trained on his thickly corded arms for any sign of movement.
To his credit, Bruce awoke with a start not long after Selina started gently dragging her fingers through his hair, eyes racing around the room almost as quickly as his heartbeat to take in his surroundings until a hand pushed into his chest. Though his mind still collected pieces to place where he was, because he so very rarely woke up in an unfamiliar place, his body recognized the hand and followed its directions, stiffly laying back down.
“Morning, handsome,” Selina said as his head hit the pillow again. Bruce looked over at her, laying on her side with a soft smile and tired eyes, and frowned. The painful thumping in his chest slowly returned to a normal pace, but the blinding fragments of his nightmare didn’t leave until she scooted closer, using the hand on his chest as leverage to be able to press their foreheads together. Those green eyes of her stared past his walls and into his soul like they always did, reminding him he was safe from the ghosts, at least for the time being. Bruce’s heart nearly stilled, and he looked away from her, frown deepening to a scowl as his ears burned.
“I’m—”
“Stupid? Yes.”
She grinned. He glared.
Selina ended their stalemate by stealing a chaste kiss, taking advantage of her position above Bruce. When she leaned away to roll onto her back to lay beside him, Bruce sighed, accepting his defeat for the time being. He’d never won any of the arguments about waking her up with his nightmares, not really. Not in the long run. And he didn’t want to start that argument either, even though there was a gnawing in his belly he couldn’t shake off.
“What time is it?” He asked, turning away from Selina to reach for his phone in an attempt to distract himself. He felt her weight shift and the blankets twist as she stretched, making criminally soft sounds of satisfaction; he chose to ignore her and focus on his phone screen. He didn’t have any notifications, but he also didn’t have service. Cursing under his breath at both the lack of communication available and the God awful time of 7:38 AM, Bruce set his phone back down on the bedside table with more force than necessary.
“Too early, huh?”
Bruce didn’t have to turn to face Selina to know she wore a grin with far too many teeth showing; he could hear it in her voice. He grunted again, unwilling to say anything and give her more ammo to needle him with (though, truth be told, at least one of them was enjoying the early morning before caffeine). He could try going back to sleep. That’d help some with the tension building behind his eyes. But… he glanced over at Selina; she looked a bit too wriggly to sleep, having been up for longer than he had. She caught his look, though, and rolled her eyes, completely misinterpreting it.
“You got something near six consecutive hours of sleep, and you woke up almost immediately for once during a nightmare. I’m calling that a win-win, which means I get to be grossly happy at this shit hour. So tell your broody angst to shove off,” Selina said, voice clipped, and she turned to slap his chest twice when she said “shove off” for emphasis. Bruce caught her hand before she could pull it away, bringing her palm to his lips to press an apology kiss to it. He couldn’t tell his “broody angst” to shove off, because he didn’t enjoy waking Selina up earlier than she presumably would, especially after a long 24 hours mostly filled with things she wasn’t fond of. It made bile churn in his stomach again remembering the string of events he’d inadvertently put her through, but the way her gaze sharpened on his face as his breath warmed her hand gave him an idea.
She’d given an option that he couldn’t follow through with last night, after all, and he loathed leaving things open ended.
Bruce pressed another kiss to her palm, lingering just long enough for Selina’s eyebrows to furrow slightly in interest; it was enough of a sign for him since he’d spent years analyzing her microexpressions behind a mask. He moved to her wrist, exposed through gravity dragging the baggy sleeve down her arm, lips finding her pulse point for a kiss where his teeth could graze her skin. Bruce smiled at the sharp breath she took through her nose, taking it as another sign that his method of apologizing for waking her so early would work. He so very rarely actually said the words, not that Selina would even let him say them for something like this, but he could make his actions speak louder than his words. He could make this work. He could get the itch going again now that she’d be a conscious participant.
Knowing he wouldn’t make much headway down her arm thanks to the long sleeves, Bruce released Selina’s hand in favor of propping himself up on his side, reaching across her so he could support himself as he leaned into her personal space. He ghosted little open mouthed kisses along her jaw, drinking in the sight of her eyes following him with rapt attention like a wayward desert traveler stumbling upon an oasis. Selina tilted her head, giving him unfettered access to her neck, but Bruce ignored the invitation, delighted by the way her nose scrunched slightly coupled with a little pout that almost short-circuited his plan. She did that far too easily, all the time, so he ripped his gaze from Selina’s face to not come undone, focusing it on her proffered neck as he rolled on top of her. Though he kept most of his weight balanced on his forearms, an involuntary gasp escaped Selina at the new pressure his body provided her, and Bruce took that opportunity to press his knees to open a gap between her thighs for him to slide down into. His body sang, coming alive, when she shifted to accommodate his legs, widening so his hips could press more securely against hers; she even aided gravity by bending her knees and tucking her feet between his calves, trapping him.
“What are you doing?” Selina asked, voice low and slow; her eyes narrowed as Bruce smirked before peppering kisses along the line of her high cheekbone to her temple. She giggled, turning her face away from him, but he followed her, not letting her escape even when her hands came up to cup his face to try and physically stop him from bombarding every inch of her face, except her lips, with chaste kisses.
“What are you doing? Even you’re not normally this affectionate,” Selina repeated, trying to sound threatening, but Bruce could see her mirth in the way her eyes crinkled. Warmth flooded him when he turned his face to kiss her palm again, letting more of his weight press her into the mattress; Selina’s thighs tightened on his hips in response, rolling hers in a way that made his eyes close and forget where he was for a second. Bruce nearly groaned; she wanted control, and he couldn’t have that. Not when this was supposed to be solely about her. So he changed tactics, moving to her neck with the fervor of a starving man, claiming her pulse point as his own with bruising precision that made her gasp and shift her hands from his face to form fists in his hair. Bruce soothed the red spot on her neck with his tongue before leaning back, doing his damnedest to look innocent while knowing it wouldn’t work.
“I’m doing what you told me to,” he said, tone conveying that he expected her to know in an attempt to rouse her ire. Selina took the bait; he knew it at soon as her eyes widened almost imperceptibly and her thighs tightened around him. It made his hands burn to touch her, but Bruce held steady.
“Ohh?” Selina asked, drawing out the word in a way that made his abdomen tighten, “And what was that?” Bruce smirked, a brief showing of teeth on one side, before leaning in towards her head where his lips were close enough to brush the outer shell of her ear.
“Ravish you. Until you tell me otherwise,” Bruce ground out in a coarse voice, one he knew made her toes curl; he wanted her reduced to a writhing ball of pleasure by any and every means necessary, which meant going after all of her senses. A breathless exhale, caught somewhere between a laugh and a gasp, tickled the side of his head, and he let the sweet pain of Selina pulling his hair guide him back to her lips. A well timed rock against her hips immediately got her mouth open under his, allowing Bruce to explore her mouth with the practiced ease of a painter sitting down to paint their favorite scene. He took his time, slowing the frantic pace Selina wanted, drawing out his time with her because she was his favorite scene – every part of her, from the tops of her short curls, to the calloused bottoms of her feet, was a scene he needed to memorize during every emotion she felt. Unable to resist the bursting in his chest, Bruce let her take most of his weight and shifted all of his balance to his left forearm to bring his right hand to her head, thumb caressing her cheek.
Slowly, Bruce picked up the pace, drawing Selina’s lower lip between his teeth, and his hand slipped from her cheek down her neck to the start of her chest where the first of the five buttons lay. Being a man of many disciplines, he’d developed the ability to work buttons with one hand very early on in life, through necessity from hand injuries while training and developing the playboy Brucie Wayne cover, but he’d never quite appreciated it until Selina when he learned sex didn’t have to be a job, that it could be a fun activity. So his hand deftly made quick work of the buttons between them, pushing the two halves away from each other to expose the beautiful expanse of skin beneath him. He knew there wouldn’t be a bra for him to remove since she never intentionally slept in one, and Bruce sighed into her mouth when she pressed her bare chest into his and dug her nails into his scalp.
His hands hummed with a need only her touch knew the repose to. Instead of immediately silencing the song in his hands, Bruce leaned back, her hands falling from his hair, and shifted so he knelt before his alter, squinting softly as his eyes roved over her exposed torso. Though Selina didn’t have as many as he did, she did have scars creating a roadmap of her life dappled across her body – a stab wound on her ribs from her stopping a rapist, a slash near her collar bone from when she’d first learned how to use a whip, a small caliber gunshot wound in her side from a mugging gone wrong… He knew all the stories, had paid his respects to each memory in the way she’d taught him how with gentle fingers and an even gentler mouth. Bruce’s hands found Selina's bare thighs, still wrapped around his hips in an unrelenting death grip, rubbing with a slight pressure along the lines of her flexed muscles. He momentarily forgot his mission, letting the warmth bleed into his chest as he watched her breathe, unable to help the subtle upwards curve of his lips. She made his bleeding heart hurt in the sweetest way, and he had to reflect on that sometimes, the hard panes of his face softening only for her.
“If you’re only interested in scenery, we should just hit the trails. See some of those mountains outside up close and personal,” Selina said, eyes twinkling; feigning disinterest, she stretched with her arms above her head, spine curving in a way that highlighted to very different parts of her body for him, perfectly bisecting his attention. Bruce’s hands stilled on her thighs, and his fingers dug into them as his heady gaze zeroed in on one of those body parts, the only mountains he cared about getting up close and personal with at the moment. Keeping his kneeling position, he used both hands to grasp her sides, thumbs brushing against her chest, to keep Selina’s back arched off of the mattress. It gave him easier access to dive in, her soft giggles from her ticklish sides turning into faint mewls that were music to his ears as his mouth meandered from the hollow of her throat to his favorite valley and peaks. Selina’s hands found his back beneath his shirt, nails carving gratifying paths into his skin during his ministrations that caused his hips to buck against her.
When his lower back started to complain from the elongated time spent bending over her, Bruce started shifting his body lower without removing his praying mouth from her skin; his hands released her ribs, trailing heated paths down her sides to her thighs. He coaxed them widen, releasing his hips, with delicate touches. Selina’s abdomen muscles tightened immediately when Bruce intentionally made eye contact with her, drawing her lower lip between her teeth. With his left hand still on her thigh, his right came up, ghosting down the center of her torso, following the taut center line of her flexed abs down to her belly button and then to the line of hair beneath it that disappeared into the waistband of her boy shorts. Selina’s breath quickened exponentially when Bruce’s pointer and middle fingers hooked onto her waistband, dipping into that heady warmth.
“I am only interested in the scenery, as you know,” Bruce said, breath warming the lower swell of her chest now decorated with signs of his interest. He gave a final nip before moving down the same path his hand had, a mixture of lips, teeth, and tongue, trying to maintain eye contact the best he could. As he moved down, Selina’s hands had to leave his back, and they found his hair again, grip much tighter than before, sending a clear message to him. He stopped shy of the destination she wanted, though, mouth hovering over her waistband and hands ready to help position her thighs comfortably over his shoulders. With a wicked grin and heavy eye contact, Bruce kissed the path that would lead him to his favorite scenic overlook.
“As the saying goes, happy trails.”