DC – I am Batman

Her chambers were on the second floor of the east wing. He'd walked past the door during training, knew which one was hers by the bootmarks on the stone outside and the faint jasmine that lived in the corridor's air near the threshold.

Tonight she'd told him the time. Nine. That was all. One word in the training yard after conditioning, her back already turned, the braid swinging.

He knocked at nine. One knuckle.

She opened the door and the room behind her was warm. Brazier in the corner, the coals bright and low. The bed was wider than his cot, lower, dark covers, and the wall behind it had a sword rack with three blades he recognized from training and one he didn't. Silk hanging over the window. The floor was stone but warm, warmer than the rest of the compound, and he realized she was directly over the Lazarus depth. Closer to the source than any room he'd been in.

She was wearing the green robe. Hair down. Same as last night. Barefoot.

"Come in."

He came in. She closed the door. The lock turned.

She stood in front of him and put both hands on his shirt and started pulling it up. Slow. Both palms flat against his stomach, then his ribs, then his chest, reading the muscle underneath. Her hands were warm and dry and precise. The shirt came over his head and she dropped it on the floor without looking where it fell.

Her hands went back to his chest. Spread. Her palms flat on his pectorals, her fingers spanning toward his shoulders. She pressed. Squeezed the muscle between his shoulders and his neck. Ran her thumb across his collarbone. Pressed her knuckles into the dense muscle of his upper arm.

Her eyebrows pulled together.

"Your body lies about what it is."

He looked at her.

"You're denser than you look. Here." She pressed her hand flat against his chest again. "This isn't seventeen. This isn't training." She moved her hand to his shoulder, squeezed. "This is something else."

"I train hard."

"I've trained men for years. You're heavier than you should be. The muscle is wrong." She looked at her hand on his chest, then at his face. "I'm logging it."

"Log it tomorrow."

Her mouth pulled at the corner. Then she pushed him. Both hands on his chest, firm, and he went backward onto the bed and the mattress was thicker than his and the covers were silk and the brazier heat hit his bare back and she was standing at the edge of the bed looking down at him.

She untied the robe. Let it fall. Naked in the brazier light, orange and warm on her skin.

She climbed onto the bed. Onto him. Knees on either side of his hips, the same position as last night except there were no pants between them now and the heat of her settled against his cock, which was already hard, and the contact was bare skin on bare skin and wet and warm and she inhaled sharply through her nose and her jaw tightened.

He put his hands on her thighs. Didn't move them higher. Just held.

Then he sat up. Her weight shifted in his lap and his cock pressed harder against her and she grabbed his shoulders to steady herself and he put his mouth on her throat.

His lips on the tendon that ran from her jaw to her collarbone, the one that flexed when she clenched her teeth. He traced it down. Slow. His mouth open, warm, the flat of his tongue against the skin, and she was holding his shoulders and her fingers were digging in and her breathing was changing.

He kissed her collarbone. The ridge of bone under thin skin, the hollow below it. Then lower. The inside of her wrist, because he'd been thinking about that since the pulse check and the skin there was thin and her veins were visible and when his lips touched the spot her fingers opened like she'd been holding something and forgot to keep holding it.

"You're being gentle again."

"Yeah."

"I told you I didn't-"

He kissed the inside of her other wrist. She stopped talking.

Her nipples were tight. Visible from where his mouth was on her wrist, the peaks dark against the brazier light, and she was wet against him. The slick heat of her on his cock where she'd been resting, her pussy clenching in small contractions through the contact. Soaking before he'd even touched her below the waist. From his mouth on her throat, her collarbone, her wrists.

She pushed his shoulders. He lay back. She rose up on her knees and reached between them and took his cock in her hand and the grip was firm and confident and she positioned him at her entrance and looked at his face.

He looked back.

She lowered herself.

Resistance. The initial push where her body had to decide to let him in. Hot. Tight. The head of his cock pressing into her and the heat was immediate and close and his hands went to her hips and held and she sank down slowly, inch by inch, and her mouth fell open.

Her eyes stayed on his and her lips parted and her breath stopped and she slid down the length of him until her hips met his and he was fully inside her and the heat was everywhere and she was tight and wet and her thighs were trembling against his hips.

She held there. Adjusting. Her hands on his chest, her weight on her knees, her eyes closed. Then open.

She started to move.

Slow at first. Up, not all the way, then back down. Finding the angle she wanted, the depth, the pace. Rising, sinking, her hips doing the work, and his cock sliding in and out of her wet and warm and tight, every inch of it registering.

He watched her face. Her brow was furrowed. Her eyes were focused. And then she shifted her angle.

Her hips tilted forward and the head of his cock dragged across a spot inside her and the sound that came out of her mouth was not a sound she'd authorized.

"Ah-!"

Sharp. Loud. Her hand flew to her mouth. Covered it. Her eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed and she stopped moving and her entire body went rigid on top of him.

He watched her. Her hand over her mouth. Her eyes on his. The flush spreading down her chest.

He put his hands on her hips. Tilted her to the same angle. Rolled his hips up.

"Nn- ah-!" Muffled behind her hand. Her thighs clenched and her pussy gripped him hard enough that his own jaw tightened and his hips pushed up again, same angle, same spot.

Her hand pressed harder over her mouth. Her eyes were wet. She was shaking her head, barely, and her hips were pushing down onto him despite the headshake.

He did it again.

"Mm- nn- stop- don't stop-"

Behind her hand. He didn't stop. He kept the angle and rolled his hips and her hand slipped off her mouth and both hands went to his chest and her nails dug in and the sounds came out uncovered now, sharp and involuntary and getting louder.

Again. Her head dropped forward and her hair fell around both of them and she was grinding down onto him as he pushed up and every time he hit the spot her whole body jerked.

"Ah- ah- fuck-"

Her eyes snapped open. The flush went from her cheeks to her ears.

He almost smiled. He didn't. But it was close.

She started riding him harder. Her hips rolling and slamming down, the pace faster, the control gone. She was chasing it. Her breasts were moving with each thrust, bouncing slightly, her nipples dark and tight. The point where they connected was slick and messy, his cock disappearing into her and coming out shining, the wet sounds loud in the quiet room. She was dripping. The inside of her thighs were wet. His stomach was wet where she'd been sitting.

Her hands flat on his chest, using him for leverage, the bed moving under them, the brazier coals low and orange, and her skin lit by them and every time she dropped down the slap of contact was audible.

"Ah- ah- right- right there- ah-"

Her voice was higher than he'd ever heard it.

His hands on her hips. Her thighs shaking. The wet sounds. Her breathing, fast and ragged. His own breathing. The bed. Her voice. His hands on her skin and the heat of her and the tight grip of her pussy every time she dropped down.

She was close. The rhythm getting uneven, her thighs tightening, her pussy clenching harder around him. She was leaning forward and her hands were on his chest and her face was above his and her mouth was open and her eyes were screwed shut.

He sat up. Wrapped one arm around her back. Put his mouth on hers.

She came.

Her scream went into his mouth. Thighs clamping, back arching, her pussy clenching around him in hard pulses. Her nails raked down his chest. Her hips ground against him, involuntary, and the sounds she was making into his mouth were not words. Just voice.

He held her. Both arms around her. Her body shaking against his, her breathing broken against his mouth.

"Talia."

She pulled her mouth off his. Forehead against his. Her eyes opened. Close enough that the brazier light showed the thin ring of brown around the dark of her pupils and the wet on her eyelashes and the flush that ran from her hairline to her collarbones.

Still inside her. The brazier had burned low. The room was orange and quiet.

Her forehead against his. Her hands flat on his chest. His arms around her back. The silk covers tangled and the sword on the rack catching the last of the brazier light and his lip had healed from last night but he could still taste the copper if he thought about it.

She breathed. He breathed. The stone was warm from underneath.