Terra Incognita

According to Alfred, Diana waited for him down at the basement of the Wayne manor. She had arrived a few hours prior. The butler had offered to take her to the library and the gardens, both refused. She and Bruce were on a mission, as Alfred should have been aware of. So he had taken her to the basement. A pragmatic lady and never one to waste time, she made herself useful by continuing Bruce's analyses of the maps on his computer.

Alfred's honest assessment was, she knew exactly what she was doing. Military background, like Alfred himself, without question.

He had just arrived home straight from the airport. He hadn't bathed in days. He asked his butler-cum-adoptive-father, did he have time to freshen up before meeting her?

Alfred actually wrinkled his impetuous British nose at him. He answered solemnly, "I think you should make the time, Master Bruce."

He stank that badly, huh? He sniffed at himself. Week-old fish guts, crab guts, dead shellfish and whatever other abomination had been lying on that warehouse floor. It was amazing how the plane had let him aboard at all. Maybe the fact that he owned the airline had mattered for once.

So he showered, shaved, combed and changed his clothes post haste before hotfooting it to the manor basement where an immortal Amazon princess was waiting. She had her back towards him as he arrived where she sat in front of several monitors.

"Nice shave," she noticed. She didn't even look at him. How could she tell? "You used too much cologne. I can smell you from here."

He didn't think he had used that much. Just a splash. He made a mental note to completely skip cologne next time. He pulled a swivel chair and sat down beside her.

Casually, without taking her eyes away from her current diagram, Diana asked him, "He said he'll fight with us?

He wasn't sure how to answer that. "More or less."

This time she did look at him. "More more, or more less?"

"Probably more less."

"He said no," she concluded for him.

"He said no," he repeated belatedly. She returned to her diagram.

He internally laughed at himself. She knew, again. Was he that predictable? He was pretty certain he wasn't. Was it because she was old? Or was it simply because she knew him somehow?

He turned to the computer beside hers so he could continue with their work. He saw that she had already gone through ten maps. Detailed notes on terrain, elevation and points of interest, with comments about her personal hunches. Military background, Alfred had said. Right now he could observe the signs of it himself.

He had to admit, he was impressed. He wanted this woman as an ally. Heaven forbid he ever found himself on the opposite side against her in conflict.

"You're hurt," she said offhand.

Where did that come from? "What? No, I'm fine."

"Not hurt hurt, I mean. Tired."

So she really could tell, huh?

She explained, "You're sitting awkwardly and the way you hold your arms is asymmetrical. When you've marched in countless armies across the millennia, you tend to pick up a few things."

Millennia? How old was she, really?

"Here, let me help." She walked over to stand behind him. Gently at first, then progressively increasing the pressure, she skillfully massaged his shoulders. His muscles relaxed under her ministrations. She balled her hands into fists and ran her knuckles up and down his spine. Expertly. He felt the tension in his body release.

"You picked this up while marching in the army too?"

"The Fall of Byzantine."

Holy crap. When she said millennia, she meant it literally. He definitely, absolutely wanted her as an ally and nothing less.

She circled around him, then pulled her swivel chair so she could sit at his front. She took his bad arm in both her hands and pressed where his muscles most ached. Her onyx hair hung down in rivulets to frame her face. Her brows were creased into a slight frown as she kept her eyes on his arm near the elbow, so concentrated was she in seeing to his relief.

She was perfect.

With any other woman he would have just done what he wanted without portent. Somehow with her it was different. She was different. So he found himself asking for permission.

"I'm going to kiss you."

She started in surprise. And to his surprise, she simply said, "Alright."

He pulled her to him and claimed her mouth. She trembled uncertainly upon their first contact. Her indecision passed quickly, and she grew more daring. She tentatively licked his lower lip before she caught it with her own two and nibbled. He could tell she was experienced. She must have done this many times, and he fought down a fleeting, unexpected surge of jealousy.

She laid her hands hands on his abdomen. Her fingers tugged at the hem of his shirt, and he eventually got the hint. She helped him pull his shirt off. Under the light from the computer monitors, his many scars were visible. She didn't seem to mind. In fact, she seemed… fascinated? She moved out of her chair and closer to him, making a place for herself and kneeling between his legs. She pressed a cheek on the center of his chest. He couldn't keep his hands from wrapping around the back of her head. "I had a feeling you would be marked like this," she breathed into his skin. "Signs of experience. Wear them proudly. I'm a little envious since I could never bear even one."

So she thought of him when he wasn't around? He felt something at that, but he didn't know what. She turned her head and began tracing a large scar with her lips. Downwards. Her mouth was hot, each kiss was electrifying, sending sparks through his entire body. After a while, she was far too down. "No, don't go lower," he said sharply, on the verge of panic.

By all the non-existent gods, what the heck was he doing? He pulled her up so they faced each other directly. A mistake. He found himself peeking into two bottomless, inconceivably beautiful pits that could end him forever. "Diana, I haven't had a woman in a long time. I won't be able to stop."

He could see she was torn too. Hesitantly, she admitted, "I haven't had a man for even longer. Not in your lifetime." Those words sealed it for him. At that moment, and if she let him, he knew he would not stop.

"Then let me be the one to end this drought."

And he let their instincts take over.

In the shadows he held her tightly as she leaned her back towards him. His mind reeled. How could he have let himself do this? After this intimacy, after knowing her and how well she fit his body, there was no way he would be able to let this go easily. After each mission, after each battle, whether time away or time spent together, from now on he would always crave this. Crave her.

He must not let this happen again.

The fingers that were lazily tracing patterns on his arm stopped abruptly. Instead she pushed his arm away so she could sit up. She shakily pulled down her blouse so she was once again decent. She rashly rubbed at her face with her palms. As if trying to wake herself up from a quickly fading dream.

She couldn't look him in the eye. "Don't worry, Bruce. I don't want this to mean anything."

Wait, what?

"We can't have this kind of thing distracting us from the bigger goals."

Maybe they really thought along the same lines. Too much, in fact. Word for word, she had just said exactly what he would have said himself. Coming from her, he realized he hated it.

He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back towards him so he could hold her close. His time stopped momentarily as he felt her resist for an instant, but it quickly passed and she returned to his side. Her body was warm, all soft curves to his hard planes. Strong as iron yet she could be gentle as a summer breeze. Pressed tightly against him, she felt like nothing he had felt in years, or maybe ever. She was unbelievably right.

He grit his teeth and told her, "We'll work it out."

"Hmm?"

"We're superheroes. We'll work it out."

A/N: Uncut is on AO3, look for the Latin, yadda yadda you know the drill.