Gotham's not exactly known for its warmth, but it's not exactly known for its snow, either. When a big, round blob of the stuff hit me in the back of the head, I wasn't really sure how to feel. I turned on my heel, but another one caught the side of my face. Snow melting and dripping down the collar of my shirt, I shivered and opened my mouth to yell at the perpetrator. Before I had so much as pushed a word out passed my lips, two strong, masculine hands were cupping my cheeks and pulling me closer.
I slipped and fell into my captors arms, but he held me up, as if he'd been expecting that to happen. As if he knew all along. As if he'd actually planned it.
"What are you doing up here, Batty?" he cooed in my ear, his breath hot and hasty on my neck. "Come inside. Come inside and make me warm. Show me those rippling muscles of yours."
At first, I was confused. It had all happened so fast. How had he even gotten up there in the first place? What was he even doing on the top of Wayne Enterprises? He always found a way to get where he wanted to be. It was creepy, but I'm not really one to talk. I show up everywhere. He had every right to be on top of my penthouse, anyway. After all, he stalked me where ever I went. Why wouldn't he stalk me at home?
"J-Jack," I stuttered, slipping again. I couldn't seem to get my footing on the slippery roof, but he had hold of me like a hard-earned prey. Heavy breaths passed between us, keeping us both warm, and he drew me even closer, his lips crashing against mine. "Jack! What are you-"
He didn't even give me the chance to finish the question before he kissed me again and swept me up into his arms. At first, I fought, laughing and shivering all at once. "Jacky," I laughed, "What are you doing? First you pelt me with snowballs, and now you want to whisk me off my feet and romance me into... into... what is it you want from me?"
We were both laughing, even though we were both trying so hard to be serious, and I didn't stop until he set me down gracefully on the bed. He didn't press me. He didn't toss me. He lowered me gently down and slid himself – locked himself, really – right on top of me, and pressed his lips once more to mine.
"I want..." he began, placing tantalizing kisses over my ear and neck. "Brucie..." All at once, he stopped and stared into my eyes , his body pressing mine into the sheets "Brucie, I want you to make love to me."
I felt myself blush as my body involuntarily pressed up against his. "Jack, I... I can't... I..." I shuddered, my face hot and sweaty already. Minutes ago, I'd been freezing. Then, though, I felt like I was burning. The drips from the snow were boiling as they dribbled down my back, and before I could say anything else, my villain's hands were lifting my sweater and shirt above my head. The articles were tossed to the side, left in a messy pile on m floor, like they were nothing.
"Jack, wait," I gasped, my whole body shaking against him. His hands were moving up and down my chest, warm and eager to please me. He was, but I was fighting it. "Wait."
Finally, he stopped, but only when he realized that I looked as if I was going to cry. "I'm not... I'm not... clean... I... you don't really want me..."
"Oh Brucie!" he gasped, hugging me tightly, our bodies pressing together like they'd never be willing to let go. "Brucie, baby... no... You're exactly what I want. Exactly how you are. I want you exactly how you are. Bruce... Bruce, I love you..."
Our eyes caught each other, and I breathed hard against his cheek, my chest heaving. The more his lips pressed against my forehead, my nose, my chin, and all over the rest of my face, the more I seemed to relax into him. The more I relaxed, the closer his body got to mine, and as my breathing slowed, he carefully pulled my hands up to his chest. He pressed my fingertips into his top button, begging me silently to undress him.
I stared and breathed and stared and whimpered for what seemed like ages and ages of indecision until my shaky hands finally decided to cooperate and undo the contraption. Minutes flashed before us, whizzing by like cars on the freeway, and with every heartbeat, another article of clothing was removed. Eventually, all that was left was our bodies and the sheets surrounding us.
His frame pressed into mine, but I was still speechless, leaving only my body to react to him. I couldn't push the words past my vocal cords, but he knew what I was saying, and what I was thinking. He always knew... It was like he could read my mind, and when my moans turned back into whimpers as his hips ground in tiny, hardly-noticeable circles over mine. I wanted it harder, and he could tell by the way I pressed up against him, my whole body begging him for more with every little shift, but he understood, and tortured me by making his motions even slower and lighter and less frequent.
He knew exactly what to do to make me cave. "Okay," I breathed, my nails dragging down his back in a final, desperate effort to get him closer to me. "Okay. Jack... Jack, I trust you... I love you... I... I want you..." He grinned, but pulled away. I moaned, groping at his shoulders, trying to drag him down on top of me. He fought me still, though, and wouldn't let his hips do more than brush lightly against my own.
"Jack!" I screamed, pulling hard on his waist, my arms desperately tugging hard to get his body closer. "Jacky, please..."
When my hand slipped between his legs, my lips pressing against his jawline, he finally complied and slipped his hand between mine. "Okay, Brucie," he told me, his breathing labored and heavy. Every time either of us moved, our wrists slid against each other. Every time one of us breathed, we both felt it. Even after we'd finished and fallen asleep – arms around each other – I tasted his lips on mine and his tongue in my mouth.
There's nothing more blissful than enjoying a beautiful dream, and waking up – warm and happy – to find that it was all true.