* GOTHAM'S MYTH. ⁽ᵃᵖ⁾

❝ i’ve very briefly stepped foot in this one and the one superman is from – ah, and washington d.c.? but those are all experiences that i would hardly call good ones. ❞ her brows raise at his words – wilder than anything she’s encountered? she’s the queen of an underwater jail and a fabled city. he could try her. ❝ i feel like you’re talking the place up now. hopefully it lives up to all these expectations. ❞

Brown limbs did not yet unfurl, nor scarred arms which cradled her to his chest, but she did release a gentle sound, fingertips sinking into greying hair. If it were up to her, they would never have to leave the confines of one another’s embrace, this constant heat and the carnality which signified their love. Who would they be when they could not be here, alone, nothing more than who they were always meant to be? In languid movement soaked by climax she sat up, and gave a hot kiss to his lower lip.   “ Take me home, Bruce. “   She had accustomed herself to the knowledge quickly; he would have no other home than Gotham, and she would have none other than where ever he was too.   “ I think… I’m ready. “

@crimefright

    CALLOUSED  FINGERS  curl  dark  locks,     almost  idle,   as  his  eyes  close  to  bask  in  the  bliss  of  the  moment.    the  breeze  through  the  window,   salty  and  fresh,   the  feel  of  talia  pressed  against  him.    the  sheets  are  more  wrinkled  than  usual  and  he  likes  it,    the  warmth  under  crisp  white  linen  from  their  bodies  against  each  other,   unabashedly  nude.   the  fingers  halt  in  their  movements  when  she  speaks,   gaze  flicking  down  to  meet  hers  seriously.  

     home.   bruce  considers  that word,    knows  already what  she  means   but  realizes  it  anyway.     the  fingers  in  her  hair  move  to  tip  up  her  chin,   inclining her  to  look  at  him.    “are  you?”   he  asks,    not  a  trace  of  mockery  in  his  tone.   “i  will,   if  you’re  ready.   damian  will  be… enthused.” 

there’s  a  small  smile  at  that,  then.

getting out of new york had been more difficult than steve imagined.  but with his face circulating on the twenty four hour news cycle,  he couldn’t stay so close to home.  especially not when it would put his friends at risk.  gotham was an easy choice. one of natasha’s safehouses was already stationed there  &  no one was going to notice another criminal creeping into the city already full the the brim with crime.  no one,  of course,  but batman.  steve doesn’t even see him fully in the light before he reacts.  he’s a hulking figure —  looming in a dark corner of the room with the city lights cast over him.  his gut reaction is to lash out  &  throw something but his hands are empty.  he has long since lost this shield on his arm.  

instead steve roots himself where he stands in the hallway.  he doesn’t step any closer to him knowing he’s at a disadvantage.  he’s in civilian wear with no weaponry or tactical clothing to protect him.  all his has is his fists  (  &  a pair of heavy hiking boots.  )   but he has something else which batman might not be counting on.   he has absolutely nothing to lose. 

his brow lifts when he speaks.  steve is unconvinced.  ❝  says the man who broke in here,  ❞     he says,  still not stepping any closer to him.  even if he says he’s not there for a fight,  steve can feel one lurking around the corner. 

STARK  WHITE  LENSES  narrow  in  the  dark,   not  moving  a  muscle.    he  sees  rogers  tense,   ready  to  fight,   but  that  isn’t  what  he  came  to  do.    regardless,   if it  must  happen,   the  bat  is  always  prepared  for  a  brawl  of  some  kind.   the gaze  flicks  briefly  from  rogers’  features  to  his  hand  --  no  shine  of  metal  in the iron dark.   no  shield.  it  doesn’t  make steve  less  of  a  threat,   but  he  doesn’t  quite  anticipate  any  blunt  force  objects hurled  at  him  anytime  soon.   

“i  wanted  your  attention.”    the  bat  quips,    lips  a  thin  line   though  humored,   despite  himself.   he  advances  toward  him,   slow  and cautious,   as  if  approaching  a  wild  tiger,   hands  up.   an  illusion,  of  course,   because  even  the  gloves  are  weaponized  to  suit  his  needs  and,   even  without  the  suit,    a formidable  adversary  in  combat.