Her leather snug around her athletic body, Selina alighted onto the roof of the Gotham Natural History Museum precisely at the strike of moonlight. As she'd expected, the Bat was waiting for her in the shadow of a turret, back turned, the moonlight only displaying the tips of his horns and the furl of his cape.
Selina crept up on him, boots winding silently across the gravel of the rooftop in a testament to her skill. In a few seconds, she was upon him.
She'd actually done it. She'd actually snuck up on the Batman. Lips curved in a smile, she sunk her claws into his shoulder as her mouth warmly licked where his ear would be beneath the cowl. "Hello lover," she whispered, now sucking half on his neck, half on the border of his armor.
He stood there as if stricken, groaning gently. She clapped her hands down on his muscular thighs, then trailed them up, up, up until she was rubbing at his codpiece. Not as big as usual. Either he'd just had a run-in with Mr. Freeze or he'd stopped padding his trunks. Either way, Selina gave the hard lump her fondest regards.
"I knew you'd be here. It's fine if you like fucking crazy bitches, but Harley and Ivy are downright
sane
compared to me."
Getting a good, firm grip, Selina kept rubbing as she ran her other hand up the usual abs, as she licked wildly at cowl and skin. Until her hand felt something a lot bigger—a lot softer—than the expected pectoral.
Selina spun the figure around, into the light, to find the wrong Bat facing her. "You're not Batman!" she said, somewhat unnecessarily, but hell, she was a sneak thief. Dialogue wasn't a forte when speaking at all meant you'd been caught.
"No," Batwoman replied, breathing a little heavy for Selina's tastes. "But that doesn't mean we have to
stop.
"
Just like Bruce to skip a date. Probably needed to test whether he could do jumping jacks on a bed of nails, or something equally torturous.
***
Harley's body was flushed, her sweat burnishing it, her breath working like an old car trying to hit 80. She laid on the back, trapped in Bruce Wayne's embrace like an iron maiden. His left arm was a steel band around her breasts, while his right hand was locked between her legs. She could feel his cock through his pajamas bottoms, denting her pert ass. Its hardness continued the metallurgical theme. No matter how she moaned and squirmed, she wasn't allowed to move. Just spread her legs wider.
"I'm gonna come! Brucie, I'm really gonna come!"
"No, Harley." Tauntingly, his thick, callused fingers continued their deep motion within her cunt. They were as cool and implacable as his voice. "Not until I say you can."
Harley groaned in abject frustration. She'd been pulling at Bruce's arm over her tits, trying to deal with her stingingly hard nipples, but she couldn't budge him. All she could do was throw her arms back and feel Bruce's back muscles as he held her tight.
"Brucie... Mistah Bee...
please.
It's been five whole minutes!"
Bruce was cold to her pleas of mercy. All he did was vary the routine, pulling his wet fingers out to rub over her smooth slit. Harley trilled as they approached her clit. She'd tried to touch it before, but Bruce had caught her wrist and twisted it painfully—that had almost been as good.
The cool enamel of Bruce's fingernails ran over Harley's clit, sending an electric shock through her, before his fingers abruptly reversed direction. Harley groaned aloud, close to tears.
It wasn't fair that he could make her feel so good, so fast. Ivy could do that—almost—but she usually had to be begged and cajoled into fucking Harley, and then she used the vines to get Harley off quick, so she could get back to 'more pressing matters'. Bruce took his time with her. He drew things out. It sucked.
As Bruce whispered softly, soothingly in her ear, his hand slipped down to Harley's perineum, where her juices had flowed from his inexhaustible efforts. He massaged the space gently as Harley begged for his fingers in whichever hole he wanted.
"Shh... shh..." Bruce rasped into her disarrayed hair, where his face was set. "I'll make you come. All in due time."
"Please, Brucie! You're my husband! It's your job to make me come!"
"The divorce rate would be much lower if that were the case." He left her sex all together, moving to her right thigh to tenderly massage it. Harley sniffled. Bruce rubbed at her other thigh, the intimate contact keeping her on the brink, but taking her no further. "What do you want, Harley?"
"Wanna come!" she whined, infantile with need.
"How?"
"You rubbin' my clit..." Harley's hands ran up Bruce's back to nestle in his hair and rub the back of his neck. "Please, Brucie? It's right there. Even a guy could see it."
Bruce could see it. It was practically begging for attention, engorged with hot blood, just waiting to be touched and rubbed and stroked until the end came. Bruce idly brought his hand to it and gave it a tiny flick, leaving Harley with a long, low groan to blow out her mouth.
"And why..." he asked, with a soft kiss to her bared throat, "would I do that?"
Harley hummed in disappointment, kicked her feet in frustration, her eyes pinched shut. She'd given in, wasn't even trying to fight, but that wasn't good enough. Bruce took his left arm off her cleavage, the sudden impact of the room's charged air with her bee-stung nipples making the blonde shudder. He brought his left hand to her face, gently tilting it up so his next kiss landed on her lips.
Harley moaned into it, a surprisingly deep sound. She was staring into his eyes as his freed hand rolled lovingly over her belly and dipped between her legs. It rubbed, gently but insistently, at her clit as his right hand entered her cunt with three fingers.
Harley gasped her way right to the cusp of orgasm. He'd been giving her two before, and three of his thick fingers stretched her small pussy to an almost painful degree. Bruce had come to suspect that one of Ivy's enhancements to Harley was that her vagina never loosened for long. No matter what Ivy stuffed into it—and Bruce had some suspicions on that as well—it always returned to an almost virginally tight state.
Harley seemed to greatly enjoy the reversal of that process, her cream flowing freely to ease the way, her legs spreading to the width of an acrobat, stretching from one side of the bed to the other. She squirmed, rubbing her ass against his crotch, trying to suck his fingers into her.
"Why?" he asked again. "Why am I doing this?"
Harley's eyes were tightly shut, girded against the pleasure of the dual assault. "I dunno! Fuck! I don't care!"
"Answer me and I'll let you come."
