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The thought of his hand wrapping around your neck to force the truth out of you sent chills down your spine and made you wet enough to feel it against your thigh; merely thinking about him could do that to you.

Your confessions of undying love could be found all around Arkham City, each one signed in your blood, because what was a little blood if it meant Bruce might finally read one?

The bigger question was how everyone else had failed to figure out who Batman really was. His eyes gave him away first, followed by the arms that so effortlessly knocked out the thugs beneath your window and, last but not least, his voice.

Fuck… his voice was to die for. So low, so rough, with that growl slipping out every time he became frustrated.

Was it normal for you to touch yourself in your bathroom? Was it normal to ease three fingers into your pussy, stretching yourself in case you ever got lucky enough to have Bruce fuck you stupid against a wall?

Maybe it was, maybe it was not.

If your calculations were right, either the Riddler or the Joker would do something stupid tonight. All you had to do was sit pretty on top of one of the rooftops and track him down.

You had spent months tracking his movements, learning his patterns and studying him as if he were your very own religion. Tonight, you finally saw him, all big and handsome as he chased after those idiots who did not have half a brain between them, let alone enough to figure out how to take him out.

At the sight of him, your pussy grew wetter and clenched around nothing until the emptiness started to ache. You could already imagine the taste of his cum, how heavy Bruce’s cock would feel against your tongue, how it would twitch and throb when it hit the back of your throat, and whether he would moan when you let him fuck your throat just to help him relax.

Your daydreaming was interrupted by a low voice behind you.

“Move. Now. It is dangerous here.”

Your mind struggled to catch up with what was happening. Batman was right beside you, one arm across your chest to protect you while the Joker’s thugs surrounded you both. At least twenty weapons—knives, guns and electrified metal rods—were pointing in your direction.

“Oh, this is fun,” you squeaked in excitement before Bruce fired his grapnel gun and pulled you both from the roof.

Bruce locked one arm around your waist, holding you against him while carrying you across Arkham City towards a safer rooftop. Cold air scraped over your skin and slipped beneath your clothes, making the wetness between your legs impossible to ignore, while the scent trapped beneath his suit—leather, smoke and warm skin—filled your lungs whenever you turned towards his neck.

You turned your face and bit the exposed line of his jaw, directly beneath the edge of his cowl.

“What the—”

That was all Bruce managed before he landed with you near one of the highest points in the city.

He set you on top of a ventilation unit, one gloved hand steadying your waist while the other began checking you for injuries. His hands moved from your arms to your ribs, searching for blood or broken bones while you sat there trying not to moan from the attention alone.

You had spent months dreaming about those hands, and now he was touching you only to make sure none of the Joker’s idiots had put a knife through you.

When Bruce reached your palm, his thumb stopped over the newest cut. His eyes moved from the faded lines to your face before returning to your hand, but you could not tell whether he had connected them to the declarations written across Arkham City.

He continued checking your pupils, the back of your head and the side of your neck without saying anything. Once he was satisfied that you had escaped without an injury, he lowered his hands and looked towards the next rooftop, already deciding where he needed to go.

The idea of losing him after waiting so long made you grab the front of his suit and pull yourself against him. You slipped one leg around his thigh until the hard armour pressed directly against the soaked fabric between your legs, then rolled your hips over it before he could react.

Bruce’s hands clamped around your waist before you could move a second time.

You looked down at the wet streak already shining across the black material and smiled. You had touched yourself to thoughts of him more times than you could count, and now Batman had your arousal smeared across his thigh.

Even that single drag against him had made your pussy ache for more.

“Please,” you whispered. “Please let me ride you.”

Bruce watched your face closely.

“If I allow this, you do exactly what I tell you.”

“Yes,” you answered immediately.

He lowered himself onto the ventilation unit, his cape spilling behind him as his hands pulled you closer.

“Ride me.”

Your hands shook against his armour as Bruce loosened the sections around his hips and freed his cock, which was bigger than every desperate guess you had made in the bathroom.

It was thick, heavy and already completely hard, with nothing separating you from him. Your pussy clenched at the sight of it, and when you wrapped your hand around his cock, your fingers could not close around the thickness.

It twitched against your palm, and for one deranged moment you could not decide whether you wanted to laugh, cry or immediately put it inside your mouth.

You pushed your panties aside and rubbed the head of his cock through the wetness coating your entrance. Bruce kept both hands around your hips, refusing to let you drop your entire weight onto him when the first inch spread you wider than your fingers ever had.

Fuck… three fingers had not been enough.

You tried to take the rest of him in one movement, but his grip stopped you and made you lower yourself a little at a time. Your pussy clung around every inch while you whimpered and dug your fingers into his shoulders, continuing until your thighs finally met his and his entire cock was buried inside you.

Your walls pulsed hard around him as you sat with your thighs pressed against his armour. Batman was beneath you and Bruce Wayne was inside you, filling the body that had ached for him while you left bloody declarations around his city.

“I knew it,” you whispered as your pussy tightened around him. “I knew my body would take you.”

You lifted yourself just far enough to feel his cock drag through you before sinking down again. The low sound Bruce made went straight between your legs, pulling a delighted laugh from you as you repeated the movement with more force.

You started lifting higher and dropping faster, riding him while his hands remained around your waist. Bruce steadied you without changing your rhythm, allowing you to choose exactly how you took him.

You pressed your mouth against his exposed jaw and dragged your tongue over the bite mark beneath his cowl.

“I want this to hurt tomorrow,” you murmured against his skin. “I want you to touch it and remember who put it there.”

His fingers dug deeper into your hips as you rode him faster, the wet sounds of your pussy taking him mixing with your moans across the empty rooftop.

You no longer cared who might hear. The Joker’s thugs could listen, and every villain trapped inside Arkham City could look towards the rooftops and wonder why Batman had stopped chasing them when his little stalker was sitting on his cock.

You rolled your hips whenever you reached the bottom, grinding your clit against him before lifting yourself again. Each time his cock reached its deepest point, your stomach tightened and your movements faltered, but you refused to slow down.

“I want you to remember my pussy every time you put this suit on,” you told him, watching his jaw tighten. “I want you lying awake in that enormous house, angry because you can still feel me around your cock.”

Bruce answered with a rough grunt, so you rode him harder just to hear it again. Your hands clung to his shoulders while the black armour scraped the insides of your knees, but the sting only made you move faster.

Tomorrow he would put on this same armour and return to hunting somebody else, but the bite would ache beneath his cowl and the wet streak on his thigh would still be yours. You pictured him trying to ignore both, trying not to remember the pressure of your pussy around him, and slammed yourself down harder to make forgetting impossible.

“I want you to chase me next,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his. “I want to be the reason you lose sleep.”

Bruce’s cock jumped inside you and your pussy answered immediately, clenching around him as your rhythm began to fall apart. His hands kept you upright while you struggled to lift yourself again.

“Please…” you whimpered, tightening your fingers around his shoulders. “Please cum inside me.”

His hands stopped your hips with his cock still buried completely inside you.

“Inside?”

“Yes. I want it dripping out of me when I leave. I want to walk through your city full of you. Please, Bruce… please fill me.”

Bruce held your gaze for one long second.

“You are sure?”

“I have never wanted anything more.”

The moment he released your hips, you began riding him again, lifting yourself before dropping onto his cock with the strength left in your trembling legs. Bruce cursed beneath his breath and dug his fingers into your flesh as his cock began pulsing deep inside you.

The heat filling your pussy made your hips jerk and your body clamp around him in hard waves, each one dragging more cum from his cock while you continued grinding against his lap. You held him as deeply inside you as possible until both of you stopped shaking.

Even when your grip finally loosened, you remained sitting on his cock because you wanted to keep him inside you until every criminal escaped and Gotham began falling apart without him.

Bruce lifted you from his lap, and his cum slipped between your thighs as soon as you stood. You looked down at it with far too much delight before pulling your soaked panties back into place, trapping everything he had left inside you.

He tucked his cock away and secured the armour around his hips, but the wet streak across his thigh and the bite beneath his cowl remained.

“No more blood,” he said as he adjusted his utility belt.

So he had known.

“And if I leave another message?”

“I will find you.” he said in his usual strict voice.

“Promise?” you smiled.

“That is a warning.”