The Chronicles of Valen Ch. 40
*Disclaimer*: Valen, Nathyrra, The Seer, and several of the other characters are the property of Bioware. If you’ve played the game, you’ll recognize them. The rest is the invention of my twisted little imagination, including Morrighu Badb and the goddess she serves.
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*The Day After *
Valen lies there, luxuriating in the attention Morrighu showers on him. He sighs contentedly just as a tentative knock sounds on the door.
He growls at Morrighu good-naturedly, “Are you sure that you got rid of that necklace?”
Morrighu giggles and nods against his shoulder.
He calls out, “What is it?”
Tamsil answers timidly from the other the side of the door, “Some of your things you bought yesterday are here. Mamma said you might want your clothes. She thought you might want something clean to wear. She told me to get your underpadding so it can be laundered.”
Morrighu calls out, “Argali is making us new sets, but you could take her the old to use as a pattern, if it’s not too much trouble.”
Tamsil says something that sounds like assent and they hear footsteps leaving. A few seconds later, more footsteps return and they can hear packages being set down outside the door.
The footsteps retreat and Morrighu tries to nestle in closer to Valen.
He chuckles softly and pokes her playfully in the ribs, “I think we should see what bounty your shopping trip has brought us.”
She sighs and leans on his shoulder, pouting slightly, “I’d rather pretend we hadn’t been so rudely interrupted.”
He scoops her into his arms and rolls on to his back, carrying her with him, so that she’s lying atop him. He smiles at feeling the familiar weight of her and lets her wiggle into a comfortable position.
He uses both hands to stroke her hair back out of her face, “Mau Gwerthfawr Unau, if you send off our underpadding, we cannot practice this morning.”
She grins at him, “You didn’t get much of a tour yesterday, and I had thought we might skip one day of practice to see what kind of a white rothe the Lord’s Alliance has foisted off on us.”
He chuckles, “You are still suspicious of their offer. You are usually more optimistic than that, my love.”
She sighs and lays her head on his chest, “Their offer frightens me. The last time I saw them give anyone a gift, they gave Aribeth a promotion right after Nasher had Fenthick hung. They even had the gall to act like it was supposed to make up for what they did.”
He grimaces, “There is another way to look at it. They knew something bad had happened and wanted to try to do something to comfort her, to let her know that they still thought highly of her.”
Morrighu shrugs, “Maybe so, but it didn’t come across that way. I was there when it happened and it didn’t appear that way to me and when Ari talked about it later, it didn’t seem like that to her either.”
He embraces her, not really sure what to say or how to soothe her fears so he just pulls her toward him so he can kiss her. He cradles her against him and kisses her tenderly. He pours all the comfort he can muster into his kiss and when he breaks off, he looks into her eyes.
He smiles a bit and strokes her hair, “My love, we have handled a would be drow queen and the machinations of an arch-devil. I think we can deal with a few pompous aristocrats.”
She giggles a bit, “I suppose that from that perspective I do seem a bit over anxious.”
He nods at her gently, “Still, I would like to see this estate they have offered. I think that it would be wise to check it out for several reasons, not the least of which is that it might set your mind at ease about the matter.”
She shakes her head, “Something is wrong with it. Mark my words. What that is may only make itself known in the fullness of time, but I assure you it is a tainted gift.”
He frowns slightly, “You operate largely on intuition. If you feel so strongly about it, we could find a way to reject their gift or at least not accept all of it. Perhaps you could sell the estate or do something else with it. I don’t think the offer stipulated that we must live on it.”
She sighs, “I suppose you are right.”
He chuckles, “Well, I suppose that you should get up so that I can see what we have out in the hallway.”
He rolls her off him gently and grabs the sheet, tumbling Morrighu as he yanks it from the bed. He wraps himself in it and pads over to the door.
He opens it and is immediately engulfed in a cascade of packages. Standing there, nearly waist deep in the packages, he turns to her. She lies on the bed, biting on her fist to keep from laughing.
He gives her a wry look, “Morrighu, in the name of all the heavens, what all did you buy yesterday?”
She’s laughing far too hard to answer him. He wades out of the sea of packages and starts raking them into the room. As he does, he sees that there are notes on most of them. He stops and straightens, frowning.
He reaches down, plucks a note off one of the packages, and opens it. Much to his surprise, it’s addressed to him. He retrieves the package it was attached to and wanders over to the bed. He sits on the corner of the bed with his back to her, reading.
Morrighu looks at him curiously, “What does it say?”
He doesn’t speak so she reaches out and strokes his arm, “What is it, Valen?”
Sighing and shaking his head, he proffers her the note silently. She reaches out and takes it and begins to read.
“We have always admired Morrighu.”
“She saved our daughter from a gang of thugs who cornered her coming back from the market.”
“We never got a chance to thank her properly for that and she never asked anything of us in return.”
“She is a true paladin which means you are a very fortunate man.”
“We just wanted to let you that you are welcome in Waterdeep.”
“She has chosen you and that is sufficient for us.”
It seems that they’ve been the recipients of a large number of wedding gifts.
Morrighu rolls her eyes, “Ye gods! I’ll be writing thank you notes for an age.”
She pokes Valen, “You’re going to have to help me. I don’t think I can write this many by myself.”
He nods and turns to face her, eyes brimming.
She tilts her head and looks at him curiously, “Why has this affected you so?”
He swallows heavily, “When I was on the surface of Toril before, no one accepted me. There were only a few that would even tolerate my mere presence. I didn’t expect to find the people here in Waterdeep to be any more tolerant.”
He points to the note, “That means more to me than you know.”
She strokes his hair for a moment before he returns to task of gathering everything into their room.
When he’s done, he looks at the huge mound in the center of the floor, “What in the Nine Hells are we going to do with all of them?”
From behind him on the bed, he hears Morrighu giggle, “Why…we have to open them.”
Morrighu darts from the bed to pile of packages and begins rummaging through them, looking for her clothing. Valen stands behind her smirking slightly and enjoying the view.
She looks over her shoulder at him and gestures for him to help her. He shrugs and starts helping her sort through the packages looking for the ones without notes.
When they’re done sorting the packages, there is a rather huge pile that have notes attached and relatively small pile that do not. Valen laughs as Morrighu starts ripping into the packages to see what’s in each one.
She paws around in the contents apparently seeking something. As soon as she determines the contents of each package, she tosses it aside. He sits back, amused as he watches.
Finally, overcome by curiosity, he asks, “What is that you’re seeking?”
She pauses in her search and looks up at him, “I wanted to see if I could find some of the clothes I ordered. If we’re going to go and look at the estate, I want to wear pants. I’d like to be able to move around without being hampered by 40 yards of fabric.”
He chuckles, “Surely you exaggerate. I would think that 40 yards is a bit excessive.”
Pausing in her search again, she rolls her eyes at him, “Between the layers of petticoats, underskirts, overskirts, and all the other necessary accoutrements I suspect that I have underestimated the yardage of the fabric necessary to construct them. I find them to be heavy and confining; even though I know it pleases you. I suppose we could ask the shop girl at Nelkaush’s shop. I’m sure she knows to the inch.”
She stops suddenly and looks at Valen seriously, “I want to go back there and buy her.”
His jaw drops in surprise and he nearly stammers, “You want to buy a slave?”
She nods at him emphatically, “I do. I think either Nelkaush or the shop foreman beats her.”
He shakes his head, “What ever are you thinking?”
She looks up at Valen and gestures the large pile of packages behind her, “Valen, I need someone to help with all this and at least we won’t beat her.”
He stares at her dumbfounded, “After all the railing against slavery, you want us to go buy a slave?”
She nods at him emphatically again, “Yes. We can always free her after we buy her.”
He sighs, “I suppose I can manage having an obsequious maid underfoot for a while. It’s going to take a while for me to used to being called ‘Master’ again.”
Morrighu looks up, “Again? What do you mean, again?”
He grimaces, “When I was in the Abyss, that’s how I was addressed.”
Morrighu sniffs disdainfully, “Well, just don’t get too used to it, because I won’t be calling you ‘Master’.”
He stares at her while she continues to sort through their packages for a long moment with a gleam in his eye. Smirking slightly, he leans over and lifts her bodily out of the ring of packages.
Rolling quickly, he pins her to the floor and slides one of his knees between hers as he rolls atop her. With one hand he keeps her arms stretched above her head, the other roams over her with abandon, while he nibbles on her ear.
Slowly, almost excruciatingly, he begins to rock foreword and back against her, the bunched muscles of his thigh flexing rhythmically. In a matter of moments, a low moan of pleasure breaks from her.
He continues for a while and after another moan, he whispers to her, “My love, I suspect that I could persuade you to call me anything I please.”
His breath against her ear wrings a shiver from her. He capitalizes on this by stepping up his efforts and soon has her writhing and panting. He releases her hands and she clings to him.
He cradles her, both arms beneath her — one around her shoulders and one cupping her head, rocking her until she’s nearly on the brink. Her face is flushed and she has wrapped her arms around him.
His mouth covers hers, drinking in her noises of pleasure. Slowly and deliberately he increases the speed and intensity of his movements, gratified at her responses until he feels the tremors begin.
He does what he can to extend it and she arches upward, shuddering and moaning. For an instant the though flits through his mind that he need not wait…she has offered often enough.
He quickly drowns it in a flood of tenderness as she moans into his kiss one final time. She is limp in his arms now and he rolls to the side. He props himself up on one elbow and rains kisses on her until she begins to return to herself.
She nestles sleepy and content against his chest, head pillowed on his forearm.
He chuckles indulgently as his finger tips gently stroke the back of her neck, “Now do you think you can wait for four more weeks?”
She doesn’t reply but scoots closer to him. He scoops her up and stands, carrying her to the bed where he climbs in, still carrying her. He lays her out next to him and buries his face in her hair, nuzzling her neck.
Finally, she begins to stir a bit and he whispers to her, “This is so much more comfortable than the floor.”
She blinks at him for a moment before she flings her arms around his neck and makes his heart beat double time.
He chuckles at her and rocks her against him gently while he whispers to her again, “Let’s get dressed so that we can have a look around. You promised me a tour of Waterdeep and so far I’ve seen very little of the city.”
She giggles, “Nathyrra” was” pretty unnerved by being in the open. Falling into the sky is perhaps the only silly thing I’ve ever heard from her.”
She sobers quickly, “Cania must have been even worse for her than I thought.”
He nods and strokes her hair, “I’m sure that it was, but we have survived. Now it’s time to gather our rewards for our labors. Have you considered where you want to put your temple?”
She sighs, “We generally avoid what ever temple district exists for a variety of reasons. Here in Waterdeep there is a large temple to Tempus, who is another war god. By placing our temple far away, we avoid political entanglements and rivalry.
We also tend to pick parts of town that need…attention. The coming and going of all the monks, paladins, and clerics usually has a pacifying effect on the surrounding area. Furthermore, the temple offers honest work for those that want it along with cheap, safe housing.”
He sighs, “Have you any thoughts about where to place it?”
She nods, “I was thinking somewhere in the Docks Ward. I don’t know specifically where yet - Fish Street perhaps. There are a lot of arrangements to make. I have to find an architect to draw up the plans. I have to find a suitable property. If people are living there, I’ll have to find places for them to live.”
She grins up at him, “I had thought that we might use the excuse of your tour to do some scouting for a location.”
He sighs, “That being the case, we will have to get out of bed some time. I seem to recall something about breakfast and a practice session.”
She nods, “How would you feel about paying the House of Heroes a visit? I think we might find some willing sparring partners there and they have a very nice practice ground. It’s one of the few and perhaps the nicest that’s actually inside the city.”
He arches a brow at her so she continues, “We have no argument with the followers of Tempus. We do not always agree with some of their beliefs since they let their beliefs determine their strategy and tactics.
We believe in doing what will win since our cause has been judged just by our goddess. They have other ideas. They are not allowed to retreat unless the battle is hopeless and it must be joined first before being judged hopeless no matter how badly they are outnumbered or outclassed.
They will not engage in guerilla tactics or in ambushes, since they consider them to be dishonorable. My view and my goddess’ is that they waste lives needlessly. Still, they are well trained, especially the Order of the Steel Fang.”
He cocks his head at her curiously, “What is that? I’m not very familiar with the gods and goddess here. Until I met you, I had never heard for yours at all.”
She shrugs, “Even my own goddess has different orders. There is Order of the Storm Crow, the Order of the Wolf, and the Order of the New Moon. Even as we are divided according to skills and preference, so is the Temple of Tempus.
The Order of the Steel Fang are the shock troops, since the followers of Tempus believe in quick, decisive battles. They are the most highly trained and we have fought along side them on many occasions. They have one really annoying habit, which I find endlessly irksome. They will arm anyone who asks, including their foes.”
He considers for a moment, “I can see where that would be less than helpful. However, things seem to be taking a grim turn. Today is not a day for grim reality. This is a day to rejoice.”
He pokes her in the ribs gently, “Time to get dressed if we are going to do anything other than laze about and lie in bed all day.”
She stretches hugely, pressing herself against him, and looks up at him coyly, “Surely we have earned a day or two of lazing about in bed.”
Grinning, he reaches around and pinches her bottom just enough to make her squeal, “You said that we would eat breakfast and practice. I, for one, plan to have a nice morning meal and would hope that you might actually bestir yourself to join me. While the food here isn’t quite what I’m used to, it’s significantly better than anything the drow have to offer. I’ve been eating their swill longer than you have.”
He raises his head and sniffs, “Besides, I think I smell bacon frying and it’s making my mouth water.”
She gives him a mock pout, “I thought I had that effect on you. Very well, we’ll get dressed and go down stairs. I wonder if Durnan has any coffee. I asked him to see if he could get some the last time I was here. Coffee and bacon — it’s almost too much to hope for.”
He smiles at her, “I thought you religious types had dietary restrictions.”
She shakes her head, “Not about bacon. We’re not allowed to eat dogs, though.”
He stands next to the bed quickly and grabs the sheet, pulling upward hard, tumbling the surprised paladin out of bed and onto the floor.
He hears a thump and her yelp of pain. He leaps into the center of the bed and then across to the other side, where he finds her rubbing a knot on the side of head. It seems that she connected rather solidly with the nightstand during his little prank.
He grimaces and drops to the floor beside her, gathering her into his lap. Their packs are on the floor nearby so he leans over and reaches in, searching by feel. He finds a healing potion and uncorks it before handing it to her.
She frowns up at him, “It’s just a small bump on the head. You might warn me next time you want to kick me out of bed.”
He gives her a dark look and waggles the potion at her again. She sighs and downs it, making a face at him.
He chuckles for a moment in spite of himself, “Truly, I did not mean to hurt you.”
She looks up at him and finds himself riveted by an intense olive gaze, “If I ever thought you meant to hurt me or might mean to hurt me, you would not be here, like this, with me now.”
He ducks his head and nods in understanding.
He grimaces for moment before he nips gently at her earlobe, “On to less serious topics. You also promised to tell me about your life. Where would you like to start?”
She grins at him impishly and stands, looking for her clothing, “It is a long story and will take quite a bit of telling for me to get to anything particularly interesting.”
He gestures to a side chair where he laid her things out the night before, when she was too tipsy to manage on her own.
He laughs softly, “That is where you are wrong. I find everything about you to be endlessly fascinating.”
She gaze follows his gesture and she blushes for a moment, realizing that he has undressed her and put her to bed…again.
She sighs and shrugs while she begins to dress, “You know something of my childhood. I was happy…we were all happy. I was one of the middle children of a large family — fifth out of eight. I had three older brothers and one older sister along with a younger brother and two younger sisters.
With the exception of the incident about Briallen’s almost-husband, there was never any bad blood between us. We had our rivalries, but they were good natured, not spiteful. We were trained together from the time we learned to walk.
The elder ones helped the younger ones and our parents and grandparents oversaw everything and generally doted on all of us. I did not wish to marry and become some rich man’s brood mare, so I chose to put my skills to good use. I chose, instead to become a paladin.”
He frowns, “Why a paladin? Why not something else?”
She shrugs, “Why does anyone become anything? I had an affinity for it. My martial skills were never lacking and it suited my fighting style rather well. It also meant that I didn’t have to marry in order to have status. Once I was granted my first divine spell and it worked, I was hooked. We slaughtered hordes of trolls, orcs, hobgoblins, bugbears, and undead.”
“Now that you know who I am, Selena, this makes things rather awkward between us.”
“Why?” She snorted. “Afraid I’ll sell your secret to the highest bidder? Squeal to that annoying Summer What’s-Her-Name on the news?” Selena used the knife to cut a small tear in the fabric covering his chest. “No, Bat…I mean, Bruce,” She said with a grin. Grabbing on both sides of the tear, she ripped the uniform open, exposing the expanse of his chest to her eyes. He was…beautiful, as much as a man could be beautiful. His bare chest was nothing but solid muscle, smooth beneath her fingers. Here and there were scars that were badges of his years of service to Gotham City, from knife wounds and gunshot wounds. A light smattering of hair ran down from between his pectoral muscles and disappeared into the lower half of the costume, hinting at things yet to be revealed. She ran her hands again and again over the bare skin, closing her eyes to imprint them into her memory. She’d fantasized about this moment for so long. A shudder shook her body, sending a heat through her that started on her cheeks and made a beeline down to her breasts and down even further to her lower belly.
When she opened her eyes, Bruce’s eyes were watching her every move, and in their stormy depths she saw a glimmer of an answering heat, kindling in his body. Lowering her head, she found his left nipple, a small perfect nub against his hard skin. Selena flicked her tongue over it twice, then traced circles around the pink bud lazily. She could feel his body tense beneath her questing mouth, his breathing a little faster, but still controlled. He made no sound, but watched her red lips close around his right nipple. When she had suckled them both at leisure, she raised her head and stared right into his eyes.
“Tell me, Bruce, have you dreamed about this like I have?” She purred. “Have you sat up in that big, lonely mansion and fantasized about me?” Sitting up, Selena ground her abdomen against his. Beneath the remaining cloth of his uniform, he was erect and ready from her ministrations. She reached up and grabbed the knot that held the towel she was wearing in place, yanking it undone. The white cloth fell free in her hand, exposing her body to him for the first time. She knew the effect her body had on men. She’d been one of Gotham’s best prostitutes when she was on the streets. But in the reflection of the Batman’s eyes, she saw herself for the first time as one that is admired and even loved. Her dark hair tumbled free about her shoulders and spilled down her back.
Her body was tight and toned, every inch in shape, and every inch alive with desire. Selena smiled down at Bruce, and offered her body to him. She cupped the bounty of her breasts in her hands.
“Every time you kissed me, I imagined your hands were on me, here,” she admitted huskily, her long slender fingers supporting the heavy globes. “I wanted your mouth and your tongue here.” She found the partially erect nipples, large and rosy against her skin, and pinched them. Each roll of the nub under her fingertips sent a throb straight to the lips of her pussy, and she felt her flower opening with desire, the lips swelling and parting, the slow drip of her juices filling the slit and leaking onto her thighs and his costume.
“I’d come home alone, and lie in this bed, and I’d touch myself. I’d dream of you, Bruce. I’d imagine it was your tongue opening me like this, getting me ready. Ready for you, to take you all in.” She trailed her fingers down her flat stomach, his eyes following their path down to the dark strip of pubic hair that crowned her sex. The long digits pushed through the curls to caress the hidden nub of her clit, running circles over the prominent mound while her hips made involuntary fucking motions. She plunged two fingers into the dripping hole of her pussy, taking them in all the way to the knuckles, then pulling them out and holding them up so he could see them, glistening with the proof of her arousal.
“Taste me, Bruce, taste what you do to me.” She wiped the fingers on his incredible lips, smearing her fluids on his face. He opened his mouth and sucked the two fingers in, suckling the taste of her, cleaning her hand. “God,” Selena whimpered, and yanked her hand free, replacing it with her mouth. She tasted herself on him, feasting on his tongue and lips. Like a starved woman, she was ready to devour every inch of the banquet he offered. Her hips moved of their own accord, humping the bulge beneath her with reckless abandonment. Although restricted in his movements due to the cuffs, he strained to follow her motions, hips bucking off the bed. She bit his neck lightly, running her tongue over the nape, breathing in the scent of sweat and man.
Selena fumbled for the silver knife again, hidden among the covers on her bed. When her hand closed on the hilt, she placed a hand on his trembling stomach. “Don’t move,” She whispered, and slit the rest of the outfit from waist to knee on one leg, ripping the cloth away from the part of him she ached for. Her eyes widened when she saw it. Who would ever have guessed that the Batman would be so well endowed? He was at least seven and a half inches, but so thick her fingers couldn’t even touch when they wrapped around his girth. A low, heartfelt moan escaped his throat when she wrapped her fist around him.
“Well, well, Mr. Wayne…” Selena chuckled throatily. She watched the clear liquid escape the tip as she slowly worked the skin of his shaft up and down, watched it bubble over the wide slit and run in droplets down the slope of the head of his cock. Making sure he was watching her, Selena lowered her mouth and licked the fluids from the taut flesh. Bruce’s hips thrust up again and again as she relaxed her jaw to take him in her mouth. He was so wide she could only take up to the rim of the head, but she ran her tongue over and over the sensitive flesh, teasing him, promising him pleasures they’d denied themselves for much too long. She drew back, watching the massive cock throb with every beat of his heart, purring approval low in her throat. Selena’s tongue and lips nibbled up and down both sides of the shaft, tracing the veins and making her way down the smooth pink skin towards the two pendulous sacs that hung beneath.
Lavishing both his balls with generous tongue sweeps and sucks, Selena watched Bruce’s face redden as he strained against his restraints. His wrists and ankles were red from rubbing against the leather. “Poor, poor, Batman…” She teased, moving up to straddle him again. “Held captive by the evil Catwoman. Being tortured in the worst way…” She bucked her hips slowly, rubbing her naked pussy on his groin, letting him feel the shaft rubbing up and down the sopping slit. Leaning forward, Selena rubbed her hard nipples against his chest, giving him her weight. The wide head of his cock found the entrance to her sweet hot core, and she pressed back enough to let the tip slide inside her, but only for a second to torture them both. Bruce lunged up as her face passed in front of his, capturing her mouth with his. This kiss made their costumed flirtations seem chaste.
It was raw, powerful, seductive tongue fucking. He made it blatantly clear what he wanted his lower body to be doing, until they were both gasping for breath. Beneath her sensitive nipples and stomach, Bruce’s chest was burning hot. “This isn’t how you want this, Selena,” He growled, snapping her eyes onto her face. “Not like this. Not with me helpless. Undo these cuffs.” Her body was pulsing with need, but her mind was still wary. She looked into his eyes and found heat there, a fire burning just as hot as her own, a need nearly greater than hers.
“Undo them, Selena.” He was right. It should be his option as well as hers, his wants as well as her needs. She undid his ankle straps first, then his left wrist. The instant the right strap came free, Bruce’s hands seized Selena’s arms, and she feared for a moment a deception, a lie to get free. And then he rolled, pinning both her wrists to the bed with one hand, his mouth seizing hers again and again. The length of his sex rubbed the swollen bud of her clitoris, taking her higher and higher in passion. He let go of her wrists and moved to her breasts, suckling, biting, even squeezing. It coaxed animal growls low in Selena’s throat. This was the fantasy she’d been dying to live, his body hot and hard over her, ready and possessive and eager. Her ankles locked behind his back, and Bruce guided his cock to the slick center of her, poised to thrust.
“Look at me,” Selena begged. “Let me watch you when you take me.” He did, smoothing her dark hair back from her damp forehead, never leaving her green eyes as he entered her in one smooth stroke. They both groaned, still for a long moment, she adjusting to his width and he reveling in the heat of her silken tunnel. They’d survived on crumbs of passion for years, and now that the masks were off, the floodgates of desire were opened wide. The pace they chose was steady and strong, eyes and mouths feasting on the other. Selena braced her hands on the headboard for leverage, lifting her hips to meet every thrust, taking him as deep as he could go. Words of honesty poured from their throats, promises and begging, longings revealed that had been hidden for too long. “I need you,” She panted, wanting more, high on passion.
“God, I’ve wanted this,” Bruce grunted, giving more, their abdomens slapping together with the force of their fucking. “I’ve dreamed of this.”
“Yes, oh God, so have I.”
“We’ve crossed the line, you know,” He breathed against her neck, his body trembling with more than sex, more than need. “Things won’t be the same after this.”
“I don’t care,” Selena moaned, raising her head to nip at his neck lightly. “It doesn’t matter…don’t let it matter.” She brought her hands around behind him, cupping his flexing buttocks in her palms, her nails digging into the flesh. The sensation drove him into a frenzy, and he began to thrust harder, faster, trying to push as deep as he could, trying to touch her heart with his heat. He touched some inner spot, some pleasure center deep within her pussy, and Selena felt the roaring heat of an impending orgasm overtaking her.
She cried out his name, again and again, gripping him tightly with hips and hands, feeling the tidal wave rising so swiftly and hanging just for a moment on that shining peak. On the verge of losing her mind, she grabbed a fistful of his dark hair and pulled his mouth down. “Love you, Bruce,” she admitted in a sob, her body falling over into the freefall of pleasure, her mouth claiming his to drown out her sobs. Her hole pulsed around him in a rush of wetness, each contraction of her inner muscles like a hot sucking mouth on his shaft. Her orgasm was an extended one; it didn’t seem like she’d ever stop coming, milking him closer and closer to his own release. Sensing it was near, Bruce started to pull out from her, to spill his seed on the flat planes of her stomach. Selena stopped him fast, pulling him back to her. “Do it,” she sobbed. “Stay inside me to the end.”
“Selena,” He groaned, and began to drive his organ home in earnest, taking her, branding her as his own. “Oh, god, Selena…” Words failed him, all that poured from his throat were heartfelt moans. He thrust twice quickly, then pushed as deep as he could, his cock exploding in her depths, coating the already slick flesh with his seed. She felt the jets of pleasure against her inner walls, and she held his body close until he collapsed, sated, on top of her.
They slept for a few hours, until Selena awoke to find Bruce stripping off the remains of the ruined costume, returning to the bed to claim her again before drifting off into a full night’s slumber. When Selena awoke, she was alone in her bedroom. The cuffs dangled from the bedposts in abandonment, and the tattered remains of the Batman outfit lay scattered around the floor. She didn’t bother to get out of bed, for she knew Bruce was gone. Giggling, she wondered if he’d borrowed her coat to get back to the Batmobile. Then again, it would do wonders for his playboy reputation if Bruce Wayne was caught running around the streets naked. She rolled over, burying her nose in the pillow where he’d been laying, breathing in the remaining scent of him.
Her nose bumped a small white card lying in the middle of the pillow, and she opened her eyes to see a small embossed business card bearing the Wayne Powers Corporation, and Bruce’s name. On the back of the card was a telephone number, scrawled in a decidedly male hand. Beneath it, a simple phrase, four little words he’d forgotten to tell her in the heat of the moment: “I love you, too.” Selena felt insufferably proud of herself as she dropped the card in her nightstand table. Imagine that, the Batman, giving out his home telephone number. Burbling with laughter, she rolled back over and tried to drift back off into slumber. Her last thought was that Bane might have been the first to damage the Batman in battle, but it had been Catwoman who had truly done the “Breaking of the Bat”.
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