With one arm wrapping up Zinda from armpit to armpit, Bruce ascended the ladder to the Batwing's cockpit. He slung her over the side of the canopy and reached down to access the jet's emergency crash kit--taking out the folded warmth blanket and unquartering it to wrap around himself and Zinda as he settled back into the pilot's seat. Without his hard armor in the way, the gel-cushioned seat was surprisingly comfortable, as any chair would be when it was designed to cradle the body, protecting it in the event of a crash. He laid his head back on the headrest, Zinda ensnared in his arms. Then Bruce was surprised to feel Zinda pushing against his broad chest.
She unsnared herself from his arms and shifted down into the cockpit's copious legroom, settling her weight against one of his legs. From there, she looked at his limp, glistening prick. Reaching out her hand, she curled her fingers around his heavy balls, weighting them as if to see how much more cum there could possibly be after all he'd spilled inside of her.
"Don't think you'll be able to do much with that," Bruce told her.
"Don't worry. Just putting myself where I belong."
She opened her mouth and took his soft endowment into it--sucking and slurping and even gurgling as she tasted and consumed all of their joined fluids. Her fingers worked at his balls, squeezing them gently to be sure his last ejaculation had fully emptied Bruce of all he had to give. When she finally let go of his prick, it was half-hard and coated only in her saliva.
Eyes lidded, Zinda studied his dangling length, the fat bellend that topped it. It looked beautiful to her. Her body stirred with the memories of how much pleasure it had given her. There were other cocks in the world--a lot worse and maybe some better. But then and there, Zinda decided she wouldn't be letting go of Bruce's.
She popped it into her mouth again, no longer sucking it, but holding it sheathed between her lips as she leaned her head against his thigh. Her eyes closed. Her nostrils grew and diminished as she breathed through them. Bruce felt the steady warmth of her mouth around him, the pulse of her living body holding his manhood instead of something comfortingly inanimate like his boxers or bedsheets.
He rumbled with amusement, thinking how strange it was that this struck playboy Bruce Wayne as so exotic. True, it was an unusual way to catch forty winks, but from the number of women who'd kill to go to sleep this way, you'd think he'd be more familiar with this sort of thing. Bruce decided he'd been remiss in not taking full advantage of Gotham City's lust for him, as both Bruce Wayne and the Dark Knight.
From now on, he'd be sure that women like Zinda Blake felt free to service him. And, folding his hands behind his head, he went to sleep. Resting more comfortably than he ever had before with the faint pulses of soothing pleasure from where his cock was suckled, minute after minute, by the loving attention of Lady Blackhawk. A woman who fully appreciated how lucky she was to have caught Bruce Wayne's eyes.
***
Zinda awoke before Bruce. She'd been battered into submission by him, overwhelmed by the taxing pleasure he'd inflicted on her, but she hadn't been truly drained as Bruce had been. Exhausted from both the usual toll of the Batman's athleticism and the new demands of satisfying so many women, he was truly comatose. Or would've been, if he were anywhere close to an ordinary man. His flagging system had revived quickly, in the trance-like state of Bruce's deep, healing slumber. Now his muscles fairly crackled with energy--potent power flowing through them with each breath.
Zinda noticed immediately the faint hum of strength that animated Bruce's body, even asleep. Like some pagan idol filled with chthonic energy. She'd seen enough of the world to know that cold stone could hold vast supernatural power. Bruce was no metahuman, she knew. But the sight of him struck her the same way. His chiseled physique, as striking as it was, wasn't equal to the impression of vast power she got from him.
She knew the pantherish speed and agility he'd be capable of the moment those closed eyes open. And Zinda knew the brutal delight he'd demand from her body, forcing her to both fulfill his cravings and fully experience her own urges satiated. She'd gone to bed with men as well-formed as any bodybuilder, men with world-shattering power, and it still didn't quite compare to the potency that radiated from Bruce. Just lying there, set back in the pilot's seat, he aroused her.
