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thejusticelounge2014-05-05 04:39 pm
bossymarmalade) wrote in thejusticelounge2014-05-05 04:39 pm
canta y no llores
Bruce rolls over in the bed (Ollie’s bed) in Star, checks on Shado’s movements, before he tucks a hand around Kate’s waist, drawing her closer.
Kate shifts and nuzzles into him a little, murmuring wordlessly.
Bruce smiles, and kisses the crown of her head. “..princesa.”
"Mm," she murmurs something that sounds like ‘daddy’.
Bruce exhales, and brings his mouth down to her skin. He kisses the slope of her neck, down to her collarbone, before he shifts to slip his his hands under her shirt, fingers skating up her belly to her breasts. He pushes the material up, bowing his head, kissing across her chest before he draws his lips against her nipples, opening them to pebble her areola, hands settling on her hips.
Kate shifts, nuzzles her nose and mouth down into his hair, as the pleasure of his touch wakes her more fully, stirs a low pulse of heat deep in her belly and between her legs. “Everything okay?” she mumbles, though clearly everything is or he wouldn’t be doing this.
"She’s still in her side of the wing," he states, closing his mouth over her nipple, suckling wetly before he brings his fingers up, dampening them before he returns to work.
He drops his hand, fingers curled to protect the precious wetness, under the band of her sleep pants. He slicks his fingers against the softness of her lips, slipping the middle digit in between the cleft, to stroke softly.
Bruce groans, softly.
She knows what he’s going to do when he brings his fingers to his mouth, the edges of her front teeth working over her lower lip in amused pleasure that she can read him like that, and that he lets her. She’s already wet, a little, when he finds what he’s looking for, but the slickness of his finger is just as welcome.
As is the sound he makes, and the knowing he wants her, even here on a goddamn mission.
Kate wriggles a little against Bruce’s hand, settling his touch at just the right angle with a soft pleased sleepy sigh. “Does she know about you and me?” she notes, thoughtfully, because if not and Shado tries to play them based on that, the assassin will find herself very amusingly stymied.
Bruce shakes his head, moving closer to Kate as he pulls his mouth off her nipple—hard and damp now, his tongue tasting like her skin—and pushes his finger in deeper, past her clit and to the opening of her sex.
"No, she doesn’t. I don’t plan on telling her, either," he admits, making another soft noise when he feels the wetness of her. Slipping his finger inside her, he pushes in deep, savoring the hot, tightness of her sex. "..she doesn’t know about Oliver and I, either."
Kate moans, quietly, very quietly, at the press of him into her, and shifts her hips to spread her legs wider for him, muscles clenching in deep. “Might be fun to fuck with her head about it,” she notes, amused.
Bruce licks his lips and adds a second finger, moving to settle over her and less next-to-her, bringing his hips against her thigh before he gives up and just settles there, between her legs. He pushes his fingers in deeper, curling them and he pants, softly.
"Tell me," he murmurs, pulling the fingers out to slip them against his tongue. It is slightly bitter, the beginnings of her wetness, but it makes Bruce’s mouth water, and he brings the sopping wet digits back, to push back into her, working them slowly in and out of her, inside her sleep shorts.
Kate whines, a little, with the loss of his fingers, then lets out a soft sigh when the thick rough warmth returns, spreads her open slowly. Slowly like she wants it, right now, in the softness of the morning, and she works her hips along with him, in a quiet rhythm. “She’s going to figure out about you and me if she sees us together here,” she notes, breath coming in short little pants. “Let her assume what people would assume.”
Bruce settles his weight onto his knees, turning his hand so his palm is facing the ceiling and pushes his middle and ring finger in deeper, pulling it back before he adds his index finger. The three fingers, alone, are massive, thick and powerful, and the sound of her sex suctioning around them makes Bruce groan. The outline of his rapidly hardening cock is visible through his own sleep pants, the length rising up, erect and straining as he pushes his hand in deeper, like he means to bury it inside her.
"But what if she attempts to use it against us?" He leans over Kate, his free hand brushing her hair back before he curls a hand around her neck, possessive and loose, thumb swiping roughly over her clit.
Kate knows he wants her, that he always does, but hearing the so-stoic Bruce react to the sound, the smell, the movement of her, in bed with him, never fails to warm her from the outside in.
She shifts, braces her heels into the bed, and works on getting words together even as his fingers crook upwards and seek out secret places inside of her. “That’d be the fun part,” she gasps out, reaching for him, to settle her hands on his hips and hold him tight. “She…oh jesus Bruce…she has a strange loyalty to Ollie. I would expect nothing else. Besides, it—”
Kate cuts off, brow furrowing and eyes squeezing shut as Bruce finds the sweet spot inside her, spreads her open to his gaze, and whimpers, trembling, before gasping out, “it’d keep her occupied.”
He continues to push his fingers deep inside of her, and when he picks up on the change of her voice, her breathing, he nudges the tips of his fingers against it, as he works his thumb on the root of her clit. Bending at the waist, nearly in half, he continues to kiss down the middle of the woman’s body until he can fit his lips over the nub, suckling wetly as he works his wrist.
He moans, softly, swiping his tongue over the velvet, soft-hard pearl of flesh.
She is about to say tell me, make him use words, but what he’s doing, the words without words, perhaps, overwhelms her instead. Instead, she cries out, softly, before biting it the sound back (this room’s soundproofed, so it’s a ridiculous precaution on her part, or maybe she just wants to play at being covert while he’s doing these things to her.
And god, what he’s doing to her. Kate moves in jagged rhythms, staggered as her heartbeat, hips and cunt and lips catching and snagging like fingernails against silk. Eyes squeezed shut, she keens, soft and low, as Bruce works her clit, because it’s almost painful, almost feels like too much, like she’s going to explode. Her nails cut into his skin, cling on to him, as she’s afraid of letting herself go. “Bruce,” she gasps, hoarsely. “daddy please, I can’t…”
Permission, that’s what she needs, what she’s trying to find and can’t quite reach.
The sound of her voice, lush and thick with heat and pleasure—what /he/ is doing to her—makes Bruce groan, and he catches onto what she needs, but looks up, the dark blue of his eyes glinting.
"Say my name again." His mouth is wet with her juices, and he spreads his three fingers a bit wider, not painful but attempting to fill her and he lifts his head up, skin mottled and flushed, and kisses her, bright and hard, groaning: "Let me hear my name in your beautiful fucking mouth."
"Bruce," Kate gasps, licking her lips, the salt of her mixed with the taste of his mouth, and all of it adding up to something more than the sum of the parts involved. "Bruce, corazon, please, please…”
Because she is falling fast, now, and only he will be able to catch her, hold her up. It’s there in her voice, in the way she clings to him with nails and cunt and hips.
He is so beautiful, and she moans at the sight of him offering himself to her, and how can she resist dragging her nails rough and quick down his back? Because she’s hanging there, suspended and waiting, until he whispers to her, tells her it’s all right—
And Kate lets herself succumb to this, to her body responding to his and rational thought is not really necessary, he has told her she can set it aside so she does, she trusts him.
It’s not long, not with his mouth on her clit, incessant, with the low vibration of sound from him echoing through her, with his fingers pressing into her. She rocks back and forth, just a little as she’s nearly frozen in place, tiny sharp movements accompanied by a soft sharp animal keen from her throat, and when she can’t take it anymore, there is one last step to let go of. Somewhere deep in her mind, Kate pries metaphorical fingers away from where she’s been clasping onto propriety and then, oh, then she can come.
She draws blood as she does, even as she’s frozen with her back arched off the bed and her body shaking, warmth gushing between her legs in quick pulses, each accompanied by a soft cry.
The feeling of her nails slipping over his shoulders, digging into his flesh, it awakens a bright hunger in his belly, low and hot. It coils loose, like quicksilver, his cock pulsing and arcing high in his sleep pants and it makes him jab his tongue into the soft mound of flesh a bit harder, and that is when he feels her hips lift, her body open up like the eruption of a glorious star, ozone and sunlight spilling out along his tongue in a slash of warmth.. and Bruce, Batman, the dark knight, he is taken aback when that warmth continues, in a trickling push of moisture. He moans, hard and loud, and laps up the juice that leaks from her sex, pushing his fingers in deeper.
Eventually, he pulls his hand back, and admires the veritable puddle of come that surrounds her, blocking off the desire to lick the sheets and instead, kisses his way up her thighs to her knees. He moves his hands down to ease her legs back down, moving her out of the way of the wet spot. He continues to kiss her flesh, both hands shifting up and down her skin, skating his mouth along the flatness of her belly, just under her navel.
”..marked me up,” he states, glancing over his shoulder, feeling trickles of blood rolling down his spine, pattering onto the sheets. He grins, suddenly, mouth splitting into brilliant teeth, a boyishly sheepish expression. “Didn’t want anyone to get any ideas, mi amor?”
Kate shivers as his tongue smooths over her cunt, licks her clean and makes her closer to whole once more. She wrinkles up her nose, whimpers at the loss of the spread of his fingers inside her, cunt clenching at the last trickle of warm heat from within her drenching his hand and the sheets.
She’s not very good at talking, for a moment, for once, lets Bruce move her about and set her aside, her legs trailing a little against his skin so that she’s touching him yet, soft and sweet and sensual. “Mm,” she murmurs, eyes cracking open a bit to look at him, pupils adjusting to the light, and she smiles slowly, dark and coy. “You’re mine.” It’s a statement of truth, rather than jealous possession—he wouldn’t let her mark him any other way.
The thought of Ollie coming and looking at the bed, at the smears of blood and the stains of their lovemaking, makes her bite her lip and bite back the grin that’s threatening at the corners.
Bruce sees her smile and returns it, moving up to curl his body around hers. His voice is warm and soft and he cups her hips in his hands.
"What are you grinning about?" He asks, nipping at her lower lip.
"Ollie trying to figure out what we were up to," says Kate, and she’s still grinning, shifting her hips and feeling the wet warmth against her thigh start to cool. It occurs to her she hasn’t gotten Bruce off, but she’s half tempted to tell him to store it for her, to bring him to the edge.
He would, is the thing, and he is in no rush to get to completion, taking his time to push his fingers over ever slope and dimple and imperfection in her skin as he strokes her stomach. He idles there, watching her, and speaks quietly, his voice amused.
"We can seal them in bags, keep them fresh," he states, knowing full well how depraved the suggestion is.
Kate does seriously consider it for a moment. “No,” she says finally, shifting so the arch of her foot brushes against his cock through his shorts, lazily, almost casually. “No, let’s let it stay so he knows he’ll have to be good to get it for himself.”
The thought of the three of them doing what they’ve just done is incendiary in her mind, and her mouth waters.
The feeling of her toes pressing against the curve of his cock makes Bruce moan, sharp and soft, and he presses into her foot. He pushes his fingers into her thighs and ass, spreading her cheeks.
"Do that again. Harder," he urges.
Smiling, Kate brushes her foot, then shifts, pressing harder against the hot hard arc of his cock, working back and forth just a little, to give just enough friction to add to his desire, stoked from the power and force of her own, how she’d come for him. “You can’t order me around all the time,” she teases, smirking.
Kate shifts and nuzzles into him a little, murmuring wordlessly.
Bruce smiles, and kisses the crown of her head. “..princesa.”
"Mm," she murmurs something that sounds like ‘daddy’.
Bruce exhales, and brings his mouth down to her skin. He kisses the slope of her neck, down to her collarbone, before he shifts to slip his his hands under her shirt, fingers skating up her belly to her breasts. He pushes the material up, bowing his head, kissing across her chest before he draws his lips against her nipples, opening them to pebble her areola, hands settling on her hips.
Kate shifts, nuzzles her nose and mouth down into his hair, as the pleasure of his touch wakes her more fully, stirs a low pulse of heat deep in her belly and between her legs. “Everything okay?” she mumbles, though clearly everything is or he wouldn’t be doing this.
"She’s still in her side of the wing," he states, closing his mouth over her nipple, suckling wetly before he brings his fingers up, dampening them before he returns to work.
He drops his hand, fingers curled to protect the precious wetness, under the band of her sleep pants. He slicks his fingers against the softness of her lips, slipping the middle digit in between the cleft, to stroke softly.
Bruce groans, softly.
She knows what he’s going to do when he brings his fingers to his mouth, the edges of her front teeth working over her lower lip in amused pleasure that she can read him like that, and that he lets her. She’s already wet, a little, when he finds what he’s looking for, but the slickness of his finger is just as welcome.
As is the sound he makes, and the knowing he wants her, even here on a goddamn mission.
Kate wriggles a little against Bruce’s hand, settling his touch at just the right angle with a soft pleased sleepy sigh. “Does she know about you and me?” she notes, thoughtfully, because if not and Shado tries to play them based on that, the assassin will find herself very amusingly stymied.
Bruce shakes his head, moving closer to Kate as he pulls his mouth off her nipple—hard and damp now, his tongue tasting like her skin—and pushes his finger in deeper, past her clit and to the opening of her sex.
"No, she doesn’t. I don’t plan on telling her, either," he admits, making another soft noise when he feels the wetness of her. Slipping his finger inside her, he pushes in deep, savoring the hot, tightness of her sex. "..she doesn’t know about Oliver and I, either."
Kate moans, quietly, very quietly, at the press of him into her, and shifts her hips to spread her legs wider for him, muscles clenching in deep. “Might be fun to fuck with her head about it,” she notes, amused.
Bruce licks his lips and adds a second finger, moving to settle over her and less next-to-her, bringing his hips against her thigh before he gives up and just settles there, between her legs. He pushes his fingers in deeper, curling them and he pants, softly.
"Tell me," he murmurs, pulling the fingers out to slip them against his tongue. It is slightly bitter, the beginnings of her wetness, but it makes Bruce’s mouth water, and he brings the sopping wet digits back, to push back into her, working them slowly in and out of her, inside her sleep shorts.
Kate whines, a little, with the loss of his fingers, then lets out a soft sigh when the thick rough warmth returns, spreads her open slowly. Slowly like she wants it, right now, in the softness of the morning, and she works her hips along with him, in a quiet rhythm. “She’s going to figure out about you and me if she sees us together here,” she notes, breath coming in short little pants. “Let her assume what people would assume.”
Bruce settles his weight onto his knees, turning his hand so his palm is facing the ceiling and pushes his middle and ring finger in deeper, pulling it back before he adds his index finger. The three fingers, alone, are massive, thick and powerful, and the sound of her sex suctioning around them makes Bruce groan. The outline of his rapidly hardening cock is visible through his own sleep pants, the length rising up, erect and straining as he pushes his hand in deeper, like he means to bury it inside her.
"But what if she attempts to use it against us?" He leans over Kate, his free hand brushing her hair back before he curls a hand around her neck, possessive and loose, thumb swiping roughly over her clit.
Kate knows he wants her, that he always does, but hearing the so-stoic Bruce react to the sound, the smell, the movement of her, in bed with him, never fails to warm her from the outside in.
She shifts, braces her heels into the bed, and works on getting words together even as his fingers crook upwards and seek out secret places inside of her. “That’d be the fun part,” she gasps out, reaching for him, to settle her hands on his hips and hold him tight. “She…oh jesus Bruce…she has a strange loyalty to Ollie. I would expect nothing else. Besides, it—”
Kate cuts off, brow furrowing and eyes squeezing shut as Bruce finds the sweet spot inside her, spreads her open to his gaze, and whimpers, trembling, before gasping out, “it’d keep her occupied.”
He continues to push his fingers deep inside of her, and when he picks up on the change of her voice, her breathing, he nudges the tips of his fingers against it, as he works his thumb on the root of her clit. Bending at the waist, nearly in half, he continues to kiss down the middle of the woman’s body until he can fit his lips over the nub, suckling wetly as he works his wrist.
He moans, softly, swiping his tongue over the velvet, soft-hard pearl of flesh.
She is about to say tell me, make him use words, but what he’s doing, the words without words, perhaps, overwhelms her instead. Instead, she cries out, softly, before biting it the sound back (this room’s soundproofed, so it’s a ridiculous precaution on her part, or maybe she just wants to play at being covert while he’s doing these things to her.
And god, what he’s doing to her. Kate moves in jagged rhythms, staggered as her heartbeat, hips and cunt and lips catching and snagging like fingernails against silk. Eyes squeezed shut, she keens, soft and low, as Bruce works her clit, because it’s almost painful, almost feels like too much, like she’s going to explode. Her nails cut into his skin, cling on to him, as she’s afraid of letting herself go. “Bruce,” she gasps, hoarsely. “daddy please, I can’t…”
Permission, that’s what she needs, what she’s trying to find and can’t quite reach.
The sound of her voice, lush and thick with heat and pleasure—what /he/ is doing to her—makes Bruce groan, and he catches onto what she needs, but looks up, the dark blue of his eyes glinting.
"Say my name again." His mouth is wet with her juices, and he spreads his three fingers a bit wider, not painful but attempting to fill her and he lifts his head up, skin mottled and flushed, and kisses her, bright and hard, groaning: "Let me hear my name in your beautiful fucking mouth."
"Bruce," Kate gasps, licking her lips, the salt of her mixed with the taste of his mouth, and all of it adding up to something more than the sum of the parts involved. "Bruce, corazon, please, please…”
Because she is falling fast, now, and only he will be able to catch her, hold her up. It’s there in her voice, in the way she clings to him with nails and cunt and hips.
He is so beautiful, and she moans at the sight of him offering himself to her, and how can she resist dragging her nails rough and quick down his back? Because she’s hanging there, suspended and waiting, until he whispers to her, tells her it’s all right—
And Kate lets herself succumb to this, to her body responding to his and rational thought is not really necessary, he has told her she can set it aside so she does, she trusts him.
It’s not long, not with his mouth on her clit, incessant, with the low vibration of sound from him echoing through her, with his fingers pressing into her. She rocks back and forth, just a little as she’s nearly frozen in place, tiny sharp movements accompanied by a soft sharp animal keen from her throat, and when she can’t take it anymore, there is one last step to let go of. Somewhere deep in her mind, Kate pries metaphorical fingers away from where she’s been clasping onto propriety and then, oh, then she can come.
She draws blood as she does, even as she’s frozen with her back arched off the bed and her body shaking, warmth gushing between her legs in quick pulses, each accompanied by a soft cry.
The feeling of her nails slipping over his shoulders, digging into his flesh, it awakens a bright hunger in his belly, low and hot. It coils loose, like quicksilver, his cock pulsing and arcing high in his sleep pants and it makes him jab his tongue into the soft mound of flesh a bit harder, and that is when he feels her hips lift, her body open up like the eruption of a glorious star, ozone and sunlight spilling out along his tongue in a slash of warmth.. and Bruce, Batman, the dark knight, he is taken aback when that warmth continues, in a trickling push of moisture. He moans, hard and loud, and laps up the juice that leaks from her sex, pushing his fingers in deeper.
Eventually, he pulls his hand back, and admires the veritable puddle of come that surrounds her, blocking off the desire to lick the sheets and instead, kisses his way up her thighs to her knees. He moves his hands down to ease her legs back down, moving her out of the way of the wet spot. He continues to kiss her flesh, both hands shifting up and down her skin, skating his mouth along the flatness of her belly, just under her navel.
”..marked me up,” he states, glancing over his shoulder, feeling trickles of blood rolling down his spine, pattering onto the sheets. He grins, suddenly, mouth splitting into brilliant teeth, a boyishly sheepish expression. “Didn’t want anyone to get any ideas, mi amor?”
Kate shivers as his tongue smooths over her cunt, licks her clean and makes her closer to whole once more. She wrinkles up her nose, whimpers at the loss of the spread of his fingers inside her, cunt clenching at the last trickle of warm heat from within her drenching his hand and the sheets.
She’s not very good at talking, for a moment, for once, lets Bruce move her about and set her aside, her legs trailing a little against his skin so that she’s touching him yet, soft and sweet and sensual. “Mm,” she murmurs, eyes cracking open a bit to look at him, pupils adjusting to the light, and she smiles slowly, dark and coy. “You’re mine.” It’s a statement of truth, rather than jealous possession—he wouldn’t let her mark him any other way.
The thought of Ollie coming and looking at the bed, at the smears of blood and the stains of their lovemaking, makes her bite her lip and bite back the grin that’s threatening at the corners.
Bruce sees her smile and returns it, moving up to curl his body around hers. His voice is warm and soft and he cups her hips in his hands.
"What are you grinning about?" He asks, nipping at her lower lip.
"Ollie trying to figure out what we were up to," says Kate, and she’s still grinning, shifting her hips and feeling the wet warmth against her thigh start to cool. It occurs to her she hasn’t gotten Bruce off, but she’s half tempted to tell him to store it for her, to bring him to the edge.
He would, is the thing, and he is in no rush to get to completion, taking his time to push his fingers over ever slope and dimple and imperfection in her skin as he strokes her stomach. He idles there, watching her, and speaks quietly, his voice amused.
"We can seal them in bags, keep them fresh," he states, knowing full well how depraved the suggestion is.
Kate does seriously consider it for a moment. “No,” she says finally, shifting so the arch of her foot brushes against his cock through his shorts, lazily, almost casually. “No, let’s let it stay so he knows he’ll have to be good to get it for himself.”
The thought of the three of them doing what they’ve just done is incendiary in her mind, and her mouth waters.
The feeling of her toes pressing against the curve of his cock makes Bruce moan, sharp and soft, and he presses into her foot. He pushes his fingers into her thighs and ass, spreading her cheeks.
"Do that again. Harder," he urges.
Smiling, Kate brushes her foot, then shifts, pressing harder against the hot hard arc of his cock, working back and forth just a little, to give just enough friction to add to his desire, stoked from the power and force of her own, how she’d come for him. “You can’t order me around all the time,” she teases, smirking.