Alfred Pennyworth hesitated after opening the door.
"Diana is fine," she said, anticipating the issue.
"Would you settle for 'Miss Prince'?" he asked.
"Oh, Alfred," she sighed.
"I'm set in my ways," he apologized.
"Miss Prince," he greeted with a slight bow. "Is Master Bruce expecting you?"
"I'm afraid not," she said, entering the manor as Alfred stepped aside. "I've been up working on a problem—I thought he might be able to help, if he had the time. " She hadn't worn her costume, had instead thrown on a tunic dress in a blue and white print, her bracelets somewhat incongruous.
"I'm certain he'll be glad to," Alfred assured her. "He's due to return for the morning soon." He pulled his watch from his pocket to check the time with a frown. "Overdue, in fact. You may want to meet him downstairs. On long nights he tends not to notice things which are not his bed, or on fire. Or both."
Diana stood in the front hall as she considered her options. "You think he'll be tired, then?"
"Exhausted, more likely."
"What a pity." She headed for the stairs—up, and not down.
"Ah…" Alfred started to say something, but hesitated. Diana paused on the steps.
"Something the matter, Mr. Pennyworth?" she asked, looking over her shoulder at him.
"Not at all," he assured her. "You know your way around the house?"
"I do," she confirmed with a dazzling smile.
"Very good, Miss Prince." He watched her ascend the stairs, but averted his gaze before she'd gone too far. That sort of dress with those sorts of legs made it hard for a gentleman to stay gentlemanly. "Serves him right, at any rate," Alfred muttered, brushing dust from a side table with his fingers. "Ninety-eight minutes late and no phone call."
Diana took her time wandering through the halls, admiring the paintings and photographs on the walls. They were chosen with care to coordinate with each other, matched by color or theme. One wall paired outdoor photographs with landscapes; on another the photos were all done in black and white, even the more recent ones. Though they were all so recent, really. A little boy with a lopsided smile, the picture could only have been a few decades old. The blink of an eye, to a woman her age.
She opened the door to Bruce's bedroom, and froze. There was a woman in his bed.
Diana might have just shut the door and pretended not to have seen anything. But the woman in bed stirred. "Sorry!" Diana called, moving to shut the door. "I didn't mean to interrupt."
She froze again. Where did she know that voice? "Selina?" That was even worse. She should have called ahead. "I'm so sorry—"
"No, no, it's fine." Selina Kyle sat up, stretching out her limbs. She seemed to be wearing nothing but a gray sweatshirt too large for her. It said YALE on the front in blue. She'd gotten a haircut since last Diana had seen her, chopped the front into a straight line above her eyebrows. The change was startlingly unexpected, though she couldn't say why. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were coming over."
"It was a poorly thought-out surprise," Diana admitted.
"Come in, close the door," Selina said with a wave. Diana hesitated only a moment before doing so.
"Alfred didn't tell me you were here," Diana said, a little put-out.
"He doesn't know," Selina yawned. She fell sideways back onto the black silk comforter, propping her head up on one hand. Black hair fell and pooled onto the bed, hard to tell where it ended and the blanket began. One leg was bent over the other, limbs more slender than Diana's. "I broke in."
"Oh." She was moving closer to the bed, though she couldn't say why. Bruce had a bedroom as big as some apartments, his bed as big as some rooms, a monstrous four-poster thing too high off the floor. There were doors to bathrooms, doors to closets, doors to balconies; all the walls that weren't doors or windows were bookshelves. Even some of the bookshelves were probably doors. Packed, every one of them, shelves of wood too thick to bow under the weight. "I take it that's his?" Diana asked, gesturing to Selina's shirt.
Selina hummed an affirmation. "I like stealing his shirts." She smiled dreamily. "He has this one—this great big black sweater. I always think about taking it. He keeps it right at the front of his main closet, and I look so good in sweaters." She sighed. "But it doesn't smell like him." She pulled the college sweatshirt's collar higher and took a deep breath. "This one smells like him." She let it fall. "He hates it when I steal it."
"I can't imagine why," Diana said. She stepped out of her shoes and let her feet sink into the rug near the chairs. "You look fantastic."
She was flirting. She was very obviously flirting. They'd met before, of course; even flirted before. But Bruce had been there at the time, and so Diana'd never been quite sure how much of it had been for his sake. Selina did so love to prod at him.
"I think that's why he hates it," Selina said. She stretched out an arm to pat at the bed. "You should sit."
The hardwood was cold, as old as the house; no fancy heating systems beneath the boards. Diana pulled herself up onto the bed, more kneeling than sitting. "Do you know when they're getting back?" she asked.
"They should have been back a while ago," Selina said. She rolled sideways away from Diana, toward the pillows; got up on her hands and knees to find her phone on the bedside table. Her sweatshirt slid up to her hips to reveal black briefs—not the lace that Diana might have anticipated for a seduction. Then she flattened and stretched out on her stomach, pointed her toes as she tapped out a message on the touchscreen keyboard.
Diana came tentatively closer, before deciding she felt bold enough to put her hands on either side of Selina's waist to look over her shoulder at the screen. Selina didn't object. Her phone chimed.
"Tim says the Riddler is being a pain," Selina explained. She set her phone back down. "It could be a few hours."
"The Riddler and Catwoman in town."
"A coincidence, I assure you." Selina wiggled backward, stretched out her arms and rose up enough to press her back against Diana's chest.
That had the distinct feel of an invitation.
"I'm just here between jobs," Selina continued. "Mr. Nigma has terrible timing to go with his terrible name."
"May I ask what all you've been doing?" Diana asked, gently nuzzling at Selina's hair. She smelled like sugar and honey and a little bit like sweat, that sleepy sort of warmth. There were a lot of masculine smells, a man's bed and a man's shirt, but Selina still smelled sweet.
"You may," Selina said, "but I don't think I should answer." Selina let herself fall back to the bed again. "We've got a conflict of interest."
Diana brushed Selina's hair out of the way so that she could kiss the back of her neck. "How so?"
"I'm a thief," Selina reminded her.
"An Amazon cares little for the laws men make to defend what they've taken," Diana countered.
"Don't go telling the men that."
"I usually don't. If you want me to kiss you, you're going to have to turn over."
Selina giggled, a girlish little sound. This was not the Selina Kyle who tolerated parties with Gotham's upper crust, an upturned nose and disdainful disinterest. She was as soft and inviting as the rumpled comforter beneath her.
Diana moved so that Selina could move, and in the end Selina was pinned beneath her, looking quite pleased to be there. "You have the most gorgeous eyes," Diana informed her, touching her forehead to hers. Gold, pure gold, and when she looked closely her pupils weren't quite entirely round.
"You're one to talk," Selina said, though she seemed to blush a little. Their mouths met, Selina more cautious than Diana; Diana's tongue grazed sharp fangs. Selina tasted like cinnamon. Selina ran her nails along Diana's scalp, caught her fingers in thick curls. Diana's knee slid between Selina's.
"Do you ever think about Omagua?" Diana asked. Ages ago, it seemed, yet less than a moment.
"What it might have been like if it were just us?" Selina asked for confirmation.
"Aside from taken care of much faster," Diana confirmed. She ran a hand up the inside of Selina's thigh.
"I wouldn't be so sure," Selina warned. "I would have been much more distracting."
"I'm not sure that's possible," Diana said. "You were very distracting." She rubbed her fingers against the fabric between Selina's thighs, and her breath caught, tilting her hips to press harder. She kissed her again, Selina's back arching up beneath her. She nudged Selina's cheek to better kiss her neck, the hollow beneath her ear, the dark column of her throat. Her other hand pushed the sweatshirt higher on Selina's skin.
"Be gentle with me," Selina warned, with a playful flutter of her eyelashes. Diana laughed. "I'm very delicate," she insisted, as if she did not with stunning regularity throw a man twice her size over her head.
"I'll be gentle," Diana assured her, "if that's what you'd like." She wouldn't have thought her the type. She dotted kisses down Selina's sternum, back up to kiss her breasts. Selina sighed, stroked her fingers through Diana's hair as Diana sucked on each of her nipples in turn. Gorgeous, as lovely as she'd remembered in prisms of sunlight beneath waterfalls. The cotton beneath her fingertips had grown slick, and she pushed it out of the way to slide a finger inside of her. Selina gasped, arched her back again and pressed Diana's mouth harder to her breast. She kissed her way further down, to the lower curve of Selina's stomach. "May I call you kitten?" she asked, and Selina practically purred. It was always hard, pet names, keeping track of connotations. She was glad she'd chosen well.
"Please do," Selina said, in case that was not clear enough. Diana's slid her fingers into her mouth, making a show of licking arousal from them. Selina made a tiny noise, neither whimper nor moan, that she took as encouragement. She hooked her fingers in Selina's panties to pull them off of her, kissing the insides of her thighs.
Selina made no effort whatsoever to be quiet as Diana's tongue drew nimble shapes between her legs, driving inside her and back out again. Long and slow and then fast again, she gripped Diana by the hair and ground shamelessly against her mouth. Her toes curled against the soft fur of the throw draped across the comforter, her back barely touching the bed. Long fingers slid inside her, stroked just the right spot as Diana sucked at her clit.
Shooting stars and fireworks bursting behind her eyes, her whole body tense with split-second mindless perfection. Then everything went slack at once as she let Diana go, humming her contentment. Diana laughed, wiping at her face with her fingers and then licking them clean. "What a good kitten you are," Diana teased, rising up on her knees to pull her dress up over her head. She'd worn elaborate lingerie in blue silk and gold lace, because she was nothing if not optimistic.
When Diana bent back down, Selina surprised her by unbalancing her arms and tangling their legs, rolling suddenly on top of her. Her sweatshirt fell back down to cover her, leaving Diana the one more exposed, Selina's hands on her bracelets to hold her down. "Oh, not at all," Selina corrected. "I'm very bad." She grinned, sharp fangs and glittering eyes.
"What happened to being gentle?" Diana wondered, offering no resistance to her new position.
"I asked you to be gentle with me," Selina reminded her. "I never said I'd play nice." She walked fingers up Diana's abdomen, light touches with her fingertips. "Did you want me to?"
Diana bit her lip, trying to stifle a giggle of delight. "If I may make one request?" she asked.
"Of course, Princess."
"I don't suppose you'd object to tying me up?" Diana clasped her hands in front of her chest, bracelets clinking together, and fluttered her eyelashes.
"Certainly not," Selina purred, lacing her fingers and stretching out her arms to crack her knuckles. Then she paused. "But do you mean," she asked, holding up a finger at one end of the spectrum, "silk scarves and easy to escape sort of tying you up, or do you mean," she held up a finger with her other hand on the other end of this imagined scale, "properly tied up with strong rope and lots of complicated knots sort of tied up?"
Diana looked between the digits that represented the extremes of her options. "I think the easy to escape one," she decided, pointing to the representative hand with her own hands still clasped. "No offense." Allowing Selina to bind her would render her powerless; since she didn't plan on explaining that particular aspect of the situation, Diana thought it best that she be able to quickly rectify it.
"None taken," Selina assured her. "I'm going to go get something and be right back, okay?" And with that she rolled off of Diana and dropped out of bed, leaving the princess of the Amazons blinking in vague confusion.
"It doesn't have to be anything fancy," Diana called after her, sitting up.
"Don't worry," Selina said, getting onto the floor and disappearing beneath the bedframe. "I think you'll like this." There was a dragging sound as she pulled out a steamer trunk just tall enough to fit beneath the bed.
"What is that?" Diana asked, leaning over the edge of the bed to look down at it.
"Bruce's porn friends like to give him presents he'll never use," Selina explained, ear turned to listen as she rolled the numbers on the lock. "I assume he never uses them, anyway. He might just throw them out every time so he doesn't have to wash them." The lock clicked open.
"Presents that he keeps beneath the bed?" Diana asked, wary.
"I'm not sure he knows what else to do with them." She opened the lid, and started digging through things. "No, nope, no way…" She tossed plastic eggshell containers of silicone and rubber carelessly behind her. She paused, and then held up a realistically-sculpted phallus approximately the size of her forearm. Diana squeaked in alarm and recoiled.
"Apparently," Selina said, reading the packaging, "this is a replica based on the gentleman who gave it to him."
"Oh dear." Carefully, Selina set it aside, and then pushed it as far as possible under the bed with her foot. "You know," said Diana, "when I said that you didn't have to be gentle with me, I hope you know that I didn't mean that."
Selina snickered. "Give me some credit."
"I only wanted to be clear," Diana said primly.
"I knew he'd have one," Selina said suddenly, holding up her prize. Still phallic, but much more reasonably sized, and with… additions.
"One what now?" Diana asked, leaning back over the bed.
"This part goes in me," Selina explained, "and this part goes in you." She grinned again.
"It… oh!" Diana sat up straighter. "Yes, I see. We do have something a bit like that."
"Ours look rather less like dismembered body parts. As a rule."
Selina frowned as she removed a sticky note from the plastic packaging. "This says it's from Lois."
"That's what it says."
"Does that mean we shouldn't use it?"
Selina crumpled the post-it and tossed it aside. "I'm sure she'd approve." She hummed as she started to tear into the packaging. "You're wearing entirely too much for a woman about to get tied up," Selina warned. Diana laughed, reaching behind herself to unhook her bra. Rather than simply dropping it, she tossed it as far into the middle of the room as she could manage. It landed on the back of the couch, and she gave both fists a small pump of victory.
A bad habit she'd picked up from Black Canary.
"You're adorable," Selina said, almost scandalized.
"Aren't I?" Diana agreed, fluffing the curls of her hair with both hands for emphasis. When she took off her panties, it was with a great deal more wiggling and bouncing than was necessary.
"Now you're just being excessive," Selina scolded.
"I cannot imagine what you mean," Diana said, moving her hips in figure-eights and running her hands down her thighs, wearing nothing but her bracelets.
When Selina jumped back into bed, it was with an impressive purple erection jutting out beneath the shirt she still wore. Diana gasped and put her hands to her cheeks in a melodramatic show of timidity, and Selina laughed. "Hands, Princess," Selina ordered, holding up a pair of velcro cuffs. A frisson of arousal wound through Diana as she offered up her wrists and allowed herself to be bound.
She felt it the moment the second cuff was fastened, like a second skin had come off her all at once. All of her nerve endings alive, so much more vulnerable and so much more capable of feeling than she'd been before. She shivered, and resisted the temptation to fall back and roll around on the sheets. Everything just felt so… so.
"You really like that," Selina observed, unaware of the physical reaction Diana was having to the symbolic gesture. Selina tugged on the cuffs to pull Diana's mouth toward hers, caught it in a kiss with her as the aggressor. Diana submitted eagerly, a whimper in her throat all but begging for Selina to touch her. Selina's hands cupped her breasts, ran her thumbs over her nipples, and Diana practically melted into her hands. Selina leaned forward and Diana fell back, spreading her thighs so the smaller woman could fit herself between them.
Selina reached down to push two fingers inside of Diana, and Diana groaned, rocking against her hand. "You want me to fuck you?" Selina coaxed, sing-song.
"Is it not obvious?" Diana asked with a faint pout, hips still moving, and Selina giggled.
"Beg for me, Diana," she ordered, correcting her methodology to one more direct. She drew circles around Diana's clit with her thumb.
"Please fuck me, kitten?" Diana pleaded, uncertain, and Selina grinned to hear the term of endearment in that context, fingers moving more persistently. Diana's eyes went unfocused. "I—ah—prihr mjalaxhi, safri parat em, prihr—" Selina stopped all at once, and Diana whimpered protest. Then the head of the toy pressed against her, and her breath caught. Air went ragged into her lungs as Selina pushed slowly inside of her, careful and cautious and persistent. "Zizi, mjalaxhi, zizi prihr." Selina kissed her, then kissed her neck, then nipped at her skin with sharp teeth.
Selina started to thrust, caution giving way to faster and harder, her hips against Diana's. Diana wrapped her legs around Selina, braced her arms against the headboard. Selina kissed her breasts, tugged at her nipples with her teeth; Diana cried out and tried not to crush Selina against her. She may have been powerless, but she still wasn't weak.
One of Selina's hands went between them to stroke Diana's clit, her mouth and her other hand still on her breasts. Diana's body arched with enough force to nearly lift them both off the bed, a strangled cry only barely making it past her tongue. Pleasure shot straight from the core of her, down to her toes and her fingertips, up her spine and through her brain and left her breathless and speechless and her limbs all twitching. Aftershocks had her spasming while Selina pulled out, carefully untangling their limbs. Diana was grateful to see she hadn't torn the cuffs apart, easy as it would have been to do.
"Someone made a mess," Selina chided, using a fingertip to draw a heart on Diana's thigh. "Will you be cleaning this up?"
Diana bit her lip, another shiver passing through her. Adjusting herself to a more upright position as Selina leaned back, she curled her legs beneath herself, leaned forward enough to lick some of the taste of herself from the toy. Selina ran her fingers through Diana's hair as she wrapped her lips around the shaft of it, bobbing down on it experimentally. The experiment did not last long.
"I do not care for the taste of that," Diana admitted as she pulled away, nose wrinkling. Selina laughed.
"Lie back down," she suggested, "and maybe I've got something better."
"Again?" Diana asked with an eyebrow raised, stretching her legs back out and getting comfortable on the pillows. Selina had removed the toy from herself, and tossed it aside carelessly.
"I'm a thief," Selina reminded her, as she worked on finding the best way to position herself. Diana had to wiggle lower on the bed to make room; her various adjustments had the blankets in complete disarray. "I'm greedy."
Selina's knees rested above Diana's shoulders, her legs hooked under her arms. She was completely soaked, the taste of her coating Diana's tongue as it slid once again between delicate pink folds. Selina shuddered, reaching forward to grip the top of the headboard. "God, yes, just like that." Selina's hips rocked, riding Diana's face, gasping for air. "Just like that, you—fuck." She bit back words in favor of meaningless groans, moving harder and faster, her motions forcing Diana's attentions to wherever she wanted it. Her climax this time was violent, snarling, her thighs shaking and her teeth bared. There was a delay before she released the headboard, rolling off of Diana.
"Are you okay?" Selina asked, sweet again, and Diana laughed.
"I am Diana, warrior princess of Themyscira, Amazon among Amazons," she reminded her. "If all it took to harm me was a pretty woman sitting on my face, I'd never have left the island."
Selina laughed with her, kissed her so arousal mingled on their tongues. Though Diana would gladly have kept them on longer, she allowed Selina to remove the cuffs and leave her in her bracelets. "Spending the night?" Selina asked, snuggling up close to Diana and getting comfortable.
Diana did not quite frown. "Surely Bruce would not allow such a thing?"
"I do it all the time," Selina shrugged.
"We don't have sex, if that's what you're wondering."
"You know when you get a new cat," Selina asked, "and you have to separate them and slowly introduce them to new smells and let them all acclimate to sharing their territory?"
Diana laughed. "Bruce is not a cat," she protested.
Selina yawned. "You say that." She rolled around and pressed her back toward Diana; Diana gave in, and took the position of big spoon. "But he doesn't try to stick me in the guest room anymore."
"Hmm." Diana nuzzled against Selina's hair.
It was a very comfortable bed.
Bruce was on autopilot between the Batcave and his bedroom. Usually when he got home, Alfred tried to make him eat something. He was too tired to notice the lack of this.
Until three steps into his bedroom, after peeling off his shirt. Where he noticed that his bed was occupied.
Selina Kyle was very comfortably nestled in the arms of Diana of Themyscira. Selina was wearing just a sweatshirt. Diana was wearing nothing at all. His bedroom smelled like sex. There were sex toys and lingerie scattered over his floor.
He shut his eyes, and tried not to lose his balance.
Had he fallen asleep? It seemed like he had fallen asleep. But, no. If he'd been sleeping, Selina would have been wearing the black cashmere instead of his goddamn sweatshirt again.
Furthermore: he had a very nice comforter. It was thousand-fill goose down wrapped in a twenty-five momme black silk duvet cover designed to match his sheets. It was extremely, extraordinarily expensive. They were not using it. Instead they were laying on top of it, after having twisted it just out of shape enough that there was not enough left for anyone else to use. He also had a very nice throw blanket. It was black mink, hand stitched from reclaimed vintage coats. They had wrapped it around their waists, and just their waists.
It was seven in the morning. It was fucking freezing outside. His entire circulatory system had been suddenly rerouted into his dick. His erection, in defiance of all logic, was also fucking freezing. Two women who had been sexually sated before he even got there had stolen five grand worth of bedding that they weren't even using.
If he tried to take a cold shower, he would pass out in the tub. If he tried to take any kind of a shower, he would pass out halfway to the tub.
Resigned, he fell into the side of his bed least full of women, and lost consciousness.
Bruce woke up at nine. This was, for him, uncomfortably late. He still hadn't slept as much as he should have.
There were still two women sleeping in his bed.
They had, while he had slept, sprawled out enough to push him to a small sliver of the bed.
He sat up. He didn't mean to stare at them. He stared. They looked soft and warm and utterly content. They were in his bed. It would be so easy to just—
He could reach over and just—
They were always saying—
It wouldn't be—
His hand hovered about five inches away from Diana's shoulder.
With a sigh, he rolled out of bed and headed for a cold shower.
Bruce felt like hell. He also looked like hell. Oliver Queen looked chipper as ever.
It was the facial hair. Anyone would look chipper with a beard like that.
"Long night?" Ollie asked. He was grinning. He didn't know that Bruce Wayne was Batman. Didn't think Bruce knew what Luthor had been up to in Star City. Thought coming straight to Bruce in person for the records he wanted wouldn't leave a paper trail. Girlfriend had already tried to hack in and get it. She was good. Not as good as Tim and Barbara combined.
"Work," Bruce said. His voice sounded rough to his own ears. Probably sounded worse. He drank his coffee. He should have offered Oliver a seat in the parlor. They continued to stand in the front hall.
"Right, right." They were the same age. Bruce had always felt older. Ollie had always thought he was patronizing. The difference had been worse, before. Queen and Wayne and Luthor. A spectrum of billionaires from frivolous to overbearing. Queen still wasn't comfortable around him. Thought they had nothing in common. "Sorry to bother you so early."
"It's fine." He took another drink of his coffee, and waited for Ollie to get to the point.
"I had a question I was hoping you could answer for me—not to be cloak and dagger, you just know how the Journal is."
"You were looking at buying a robotics company a while back, weren't you?"
"You're going to have to be more specific," Bruce said, as if he didn't already know.
"Something about land-based drones…?"
Bruce sighed. "Ah. Yeah. Supposed to be for search and rescue during natural disasters. Ended up accepting some other offer, we never found out who." Luthor. It was always Luthor. Who else would it be?
"Right! That's the one. I know the information they gave you on their projects during negotiations would have been classified, but I don't suppose I could take a peek?" Ollie had an air of affected sheepishness. "I'm just curious about something."
"Yeah, that seems fine." It didn't. Queen was horrible at this. How did he even still have a secret identity? If Bruce hadn't been tired, he might have actually made him work for it. Come up with a plausible excuse. One that hadn't been shot through with arrows. Put Bruce's law degree to good use: fucking with Oliver Queen. "You're going to want to meet with Lucius, I'll call and—"
A door opening and closing too loudly. Giggling. Laughing. He should have powered through it. He shouldn't have looked. He looked. So did Oliver.
Diana and Selina were wearing his shirts. They were looking down over the railing at the two men in the front hall. They looked surprised.
"Ah—sorry!" Diana announced, immediately steering Selina back toward the bedroom. "We didn't realize you had company, so sorry."
She didn't sound that sorry. Bruce had been seen in public with Diana before. Same for Selina. As far as Bruce knew, Oliver didn't know that Selina was Catwoman. If he did, this was going to make Bruce's own identity fairly obvious.
Ollie looked from where the women had retreated back to Bruce, eyes narrowed. "Work, huh?"
They had a silent staring contest. Bruce sipped his coffee and did not break eye contact. Then Oliver shook his head.
"You're a real asshole, you know that?"
Bruce sighed. "… yeah." He looked back toward the second floor. "Yeah."