Bat, Cat, Bewitched

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- - -

Out at the docks, in the middle of this cold, cloudy night, there were men who were up to no good.

They moved like ants, worker drones moving back and forth, carrying crates from the moored boats to the innards of a shabby warehouse - if it could be called that. Years of disrepair had left it a rusted, grimy husk. Abandoned, forgotten… the perfect place for deals and transactions of the shady sort.

To man, the workers were tall, rough-faced, and thick with strength. Some were bald, some were bearded, some were tattooed, and some were all three. Each of them answered to Oswald Cobblepot.

They were the Penguin's boys. Hired thugs to replace his lost manpower. And the Bat had been watching them for over an hour.

The Batman stood high on a tower ledge, upon a concrete skyscraper that overlooked the riverside docks. His only companions were stone gargoyles - stalwart guardians. His brethren. Tonight, they would bear witness to yet another battle in the Bat's righteous crusade.

Bruce remained still - as still as the stone statues flanking him - peering through his binoculars. The evening breeze had caught his cape, making it flutter and flap. He didn't bother to hide. He didn't need to. The men down below continued their illicit work, not suspecting a thing.

They wouldn't see him until it was too late.

In that dockside warehouse, those crates began to stack and stack. Dozens of them by now, all carrying contraband - in this case, guns. Assault rifles, submachine guns, all military grade.

Cobblepot was looking to expand.

That ambitious dream would be halted tonight. The GCPD would arrive in force - though not for another twenty or so minutes, when the Bat's anonymous, automated tip would go out.

Before that, those men would receive a warning. One they wouldn't soon forget.

Gotham belonged to the Bat. And bringing unmarked weapons into his city was a very bad move.

Bruce clicked his binoculars shut and put them away. Then… he leaped.

His cape caught the wind again, snapping wide into dark, gliding wings. And the Batman swept down, down, down…

- - -

Cobblepot's hired muscle didn't last very long. Bruce almost felt disappointed.

In his years of donning the cape and cowl, the quality of henchmen had dropped considerably. On the other hand, it was the supervillains themselves that had grown more dangerous - and gaudier, to boot.

The Penguin would no doubt be furious. He would lash out in some way, equal parts petulant and vicious, just as he always did. But that would be a fight for another night. For now… the Batman was unleashing his aggression.

Two broken jaws. A dislocated shoulder. Some bruised ribs. Many black eyes and bloodied noses. One concussion. They would all live. But none would forget.

By now, he'd whittled the dozen or so meatheads down to but two. One wielded a crowbar. The other, a pistol - and he was out of ammo.

The first swung his metal rod at the Bat's head and missed. Bruce caught him by the flap of his leather jacket and drove his knee into the man's gut. The thug wheezed, gagged, and dropped into a heap on the ground.

The second man stared, clutching his empty pistol. He looked from the Bat to his buddy curled up on the floor then back to the Bat again. A second passed. Then he threw his gun at Bruce - missing by some five feet - and bolted.

Under his cowl, Bruce almost rolled his eyes. He advanced after the fleeing criminal, drawing a batarang from his belt. He cocked his arm back, ready to throw… but he needn't have bothered.

The henchman had barely made it to the warehouse's large open doors before the soles of two booted feet collided with his face. He reeled, barely clinging to consciousness, before he too fell to the ground. 

Lights out.

Above him, Bruce observed a much more appealing sight. A familiar figure, dark and lithe and graceful, swung upwards into the air and flipped before landing before him with effortless style.

The figure stood, elegant, appealing, and lovely.

It was she who the Batman would never tire of chasing.

The Catwoman. Selina Kyle.

The woman garbed in sensual, skintight black stepped over the man she had felled, sparring him but a fleeting, half-hearted glance.

"You missed one." She said to Bruce, striding towards him.

Bruce gave a faint snort. He snapped his batarang shut and set it back onto his belt.

"I had him in my sights." He replied coolly, approaching the new arrival. Together they closed the distance. Soon she was right before him, her green eyes and her smile both shining with allure and familiar mischief.

"You should have been faster then." Selina shot back. She lifted one hand and began drawing a single metal claw across Bruce's broad, armored chest.

Bruce let her. He always let her.

For a moment, that was all she did, humming softly as she traced the black bat emblazoned upon his suit. She drew even closer as she did, just about pressing her slender form up against him. Even through the pads and plating, her curves teased at him, begging for attention, for touch. But Bruce didn't draw his hands up. Not yet.

"Quite a mess you've made here. And I'm sure the police are on their way." Selina continued. The dim light of the warehouse caught on the material of her suit, making it seem like her whole body was glistening.

"Your point?"

"My point is, your business is done here. Which leaves the rest of this evening enticingly free."

Bruce allowed the faintest of smiles. None of the thugs he'd dispatched were in any position to witness it, so he saw no harm.

"What did you have in mind?" He asked. 

Selina pursed her lips, plump and painted a deep, inviting red. She began to circle him, moving slowly around his flank, like a panther. She continued to drag her claws over him, gently grazing over his chest, his shoulder, his back.

"You've done the city a great service, taking these meatheads off the streets. Gotham's big, brave hero deserves to celebrate, I think."

"Celebrate, huh?"

"Why not? I'm bored." Selina had circled back to his front, looking up into his eyes. Her emerald pools glittered with unmasked want. And Catwoman, Bruce had learned, always got what she wanted.

"A private party. One-on-one." She purred. Then she drew back a step, letting Bruce see her fully again. Like an offering. Her suit clung to her like a lover. Damn near every inch of her was clad in glossy black, every curve, every swell, poured out like dark honey. She smirked. "You've got anything better to do?"

It was a challenge as much as an offer. As he began to consider it, sirens grew louder in the distance. The GCPD were on their way.

Bruce grinned, undaunted. He hadn't broken a sweat with these sorry thugs. And now, he had no reason to stay.

Catwoman would learn soon enough - he had more than enough vigor left for her.

- - -

It was a quick drive back to the batcave - or as quick as it could be with Selina sitting in his lap. She wiggled the whole way, teasing him with her firm, supple rear. He'd endured it, knowing that very soon she'd be enduring him.

From the cave, it was up to Wayne Manor. More specifically, the showers.

"Pads." Selina muttered as she helped undress him. "Too many fucking pads."

Then it was her turn. She tugged the zipper down, all the way down to reveal her pale breasts, her tummy, her mons. She slipped the material off her shoulders and pushed it down her full thighs, down her long legs. She stepped out of her suit, bare and willing. 

"See how easy that was?" She teased him. Bruce only grinned in turn.

The spray was steaming by then. She pushed him in first and followed after, kissing at his muscled back.

They'd tried sex right out of the suits before and Selina had never complained about the scent, but tonight she wanted them both fresh. Shower sex - they'd tried that, too - was similarly off the table. But that didn't stop Selina from copping a feel. Or ten.

As long as his guest was taking liberties with his body, Bruce only thought it was fair to take some of his own. He grabbed at her behind, taking handfuls of that splendid ass. It felt even more splendid filling his palms. 

Warm water poured over them both, soothing and refreshing, washing those unwanted aches away. The only thing left was the two of them… and the burning need they both felt.

There was little space left between them, locked at the lips as they were. Bruce and Selina held each other close, feeling, tasting, devouring. Her arms coiled around his neck and his hands settled at the small of her back. Her breasts pressed up against his muscled chest. His cock, hard and swollen, prodded at her inner thighs.

It was sweetness amidst the steam. But it was only a taste of what was to come.

- - -

From the spray and the heavy mist, man and woman emerged replenished and randy. Selina wanted to waste no time, so Bruce let her dry them both. She groped at him as much as she toweled him, giggling nefariously as she guided him towards the master bedroom - she knew the way, after all.

Bruce had sent Alfred off the moment they returned. The others, Dick, Barbara, Tim, Damian, were also elsewhere, over in their own corner of Gotham.

The lovers had the manor all to themselves. And that meant they could be as loud as they pleased.

Selina took him in hand as she ushered him back towards the bed. Her touch was soft, warm, but also needy. Slender fingers pumped feverishly along the length of his manhood. Each stroke was more satisfying than the last, stoking that heat in his gut, in his balls. Bruce let out a grunt, his cock aching, twitching in Selina's hand.

"How the hell do you hide this thing?" Selina breathed between frantic kisses. She let out a huff, reaching down to take him in both hands. Bruce groaned, deep and rumbling, leaning against the wooden bedframe. He watched her pale hands work upon his shaft, up and down, up and down. Faster now, pumping him to an even fuller hardness.

"I use a cup." Bruce answered plainly - as plainly as he could, given the circumstances. His voice was strained with need and pleasure.

Selina smirked. Her eyes burned even brighter now. Green fire, a blaze of passion. She gave him a few more strokes before kneeling, putting her face level with that thick, swollen rod. She held it up gingerly with both hands, cooing softly.

"Poor baby, cooped up all night." She shucked back the foreskin, letting the fat cockhead sprout free. Already the tip was glistening with precum. She held it inches from her face, looking upon Bruce's manhood with shameless adoration. "A cock like this deserves so much better."

Selina's voice was smooth, sweet as music. But her lips were even sweeter.

She gave the cockhead a gentle kiss, right atop the crown. Then her tongue flicked out, licking the very tip. She let out a little moan as her tastebuds caught the precum. She drew her tongue back in, swallowing, and moaned.

In his youth, Bruce might have come undone right then. But he was much more since coming into his manhood.

Even so, he groaned again. This time it was deeper, more guttural. A beastly nature reared its head then, thrashing deep in his soul. It was a fascinating thing, Bruce believed, what a woman could do to a man. To drive him to such exquisite madness.

Selina kissed him again, pressing those lovely red lips to the swollen head of his cock. Then another kiss followed, right on the side of his shaft. Then another. Soft like flower petals, warm like embers.

Then she dragged her tongue down his length, moaning sweetly the whole way to his balls.

"Ah… Christ…" Bruce cursed, gripping the bed frame now. He minded his strength, however. The bed frame had belonged to the Wayne family since before even his father was born.

Selina never broke eye contact, not even as her pretty nose pressed into his groin. Even after a shower, there was no doubt she could catch his scent down there. Selina inhaled and sighed, very pleased. Bruce even caught a faint shiver about her shoulders. Then, she pressed her lips to his balls.

Her lips were soft pillows, caressing him. Then came her tongue, bathing him. His stones ached, clenching in the face of her affection. He could feel them both roiling, churning with seed.

Bruce imagined spilling right then and there, spraying Selina's lovely face, spraying over her waiting tongue. The sweetness of release was all too alluring. But the Batman had taken Catwoman's challenge, and he didn't take it on a whim. 

He'd invited her back for a celebration, hadn't he? Bruce Wayne was nothing if not a generous host.

As Selina sucked upon his balls, Bruce reached down and ran his fingers through her short, dark hair. Selina moaned at his touch, her eyes shining happily as he pet her. Thick fingers, calloused but warm, roaming through her locks, over her scalp. Strong, but gentle. But she didn't cease her sucking. Not until he gave her a soft push.

Selina slurped away from his full, hanging nuts, leaving them smeared and glistening with her saliva. Still, they ached deliciously. Bruce felt his body demand more, more of her lips, more of her tongue. Even Selina felt the same. She let out a whine, resting her cheek against one of Bruce's firm thighs. He kept stroking her hair and her eyes met his, eager and expectant.

His cock twitched, just about poking her upon the lips. Selina drew back, amused. When she went to take him in her mouth, he stopped her. 

"Good Cat." Bruce praised. Then he commanded. "But it's my turn now. Get your pretty ass on the bed."

Selina knew his meaning. And those red, lovely lips spread into a brilliant, wicked smile.

The Cat obeyed. And the Bat followed close behind, intent on drawing out this celebration as long as he could.