Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with Christopher Nolan's Batman series, I am only a poor college student who writes to amuse myself. Some of this chapter's dialogue comes directly from The Dark Knight Rises.
Blake blinks awake, and it takes him a moment to remember that he's on his living room couch. He lies there for a few more seconds before standing. The light coming in through the windows is still weak and grey; it's that time of transition, when night fades into day. He couldn't have slept more than three hours, but his internal clock is too strong to fight.
Normally he would do some morning exercises to get the blood pumping, but not today. He tiptoes to the doorway of his bedroom, and sees Evie's long dark hair flared out on his pillows like a halo. The rest of her is still huddled beneath his comforter. He can hear her quiet, even breathing.
The sight is strangely arresting, and he tries to remember the last time he had a woman in his bed. God, it's been a long time. As quietly as he can manage, he crosses the room to enter the bathroom, and closes the door behind him.
His face in the mirror is pale and drawn from lack of sleep. Splashing it with water does little to improve the pallor. Blake spends a moment considering his reflection. As far as his looks go, he doesn't see himself as being either attractive or unattractive. Oh, sure, there's been the occasional woman in his life, and that means something, he guesses, but it's not everything.
It's not that he doesn't wish he were taller, stronger. It's only that growing up in an orphanage, and phasing through half a dozen foster homes before joining the police academy instilled a certain disregard for his own physicality within him. He never quite expects to make it through the next robbery or shootout, no matter how many he's been called to. When he's hurt on the job, there's only acceptance, no surprise. Blake doesn't have the luxury of surprise. He knows that sooner or later, he's going to get seriously injured or killed, and therefore tries not to get too attached to this physical body.
His face is the most important part of his body, but it's also the part he hates the most.
When he comes out of the bathroom, Evie is awake and standing by the window. It's a bit lighter now, so rays of sun surround her. He's suddenly aware that he hadn't thought to put on a shirt, and the intimacy of the moment makes him slightly unsure of how to proceed. How do you comfort the girl you're seeing after her house was broken into, and she spent the night at your place but you didn't sleep with her?
"Morning," says Blake. That's always a good start. "Sorry if I woke you while I was in there."
"You didn't." She sits on the edge of the bed. "John, I just want to thank you for everything. I think you saved my life last night. If we hadn't gone out, if I'd been alone at home, I don't know—"
"Hey, it's ok. No one got hurt, and we'll soon find out what he took and why." He moves to sit next to her, feeling much less calm about the incident last night than he lets on.
"Well, he got hurt, didn't he? You shot him in the leg." There's no accusation in her voice, just fact.
"I did. Twice."
"I've never seen that side of you before. You were… a different person."
No, I was myself, he thinks. But out loud he says, "It's my police officer persona. Keeping the two parts of myself separate helps me to do what I have to."
Evie nods. "Cognitive disassociation."
"Something like that, yeah."
"You never told me why you joined the police force. I mean, I know lots of people do it because they don't really know what else to do. Or they really enjoy it, the power and the violence. But I saw you last night. You didn't enjoy it."
"Heh." He brings his hands up to rub his face. "It's uh… it's not really a first date kinda story."
"I think we passed that point when you shot a man in my living room. Twice."
"Well, you're right. I didn't enjoy having to do it. I did it because I was angry." He looks at her. Even after having slept in his bed, wearing his shirt (and oh god he can see the outline of her nipples through the fabric), she looks so clean and earnest and still fresh from sleep.
Blake takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly. "My mom died when I was small. It was a car accident, I don't really remember it. But uh, my dad got shot a couple years later for a gambling debt. And I remember that one just fine. Not a lot of people know what it feels like, to be angry… in your bones. I mean, they understand. Foster parents, everybody understands. For a while. Then they want the angry little kid to do something he knows he can't do: move on. So after awhile they stop understanding. They send the angry kid to a boys' home. I figured it out too late. You gotta learn to hide the anger, practice smiling in the mirror. It's like putting on a mask."
Two twin tears roll slowly down her cheeks. "John…" she breathes. "I—"
"Being on the force lets me feel like I have some measure of control again, you know? I don't have to just stand by. It lets me sate the anger, if only for a little while." He looks down, squeezes his hands into fists. "It's the only thing I have left."
Blake expected her to be sad. He knows from watching her with the kids at St. Swithin's that she has a soft heart. And he expects, in her own quiet way, that she would retreat from him, scared off by his admission of anger and desire for revenge writ large on the criminal world. All the other women he's dated do this.
So he isn't prepared when she leans forward and kisses him without preamble. First her hands are on his thighs, and then she moves forward onto him, straddling his legs. The effect is immediate— his cock stirs and begins to rise as his hands move behind her to hold her back. The kissing is slow and lazy; it's Sunday, and no one expects anything of them today. It feels like they have all the world waiting on them.
Blake lifts her and turns them so that she's lying on the bed. Evie grips his shoulders and brings him back down to her, but he pulls away from her lips before long to trail down and kiss the slender column of her neck. She wiggles beneath him and moves to take off the police academy shirt, but he gently moves her hands aside and does it himself. She's lovely, her skin smooth and pale, her dusky brown nipples topping a pair of small but round breasts. He covers one with his hand, squeezing gently, and leans over to lick the other. Evie tries and fails to stifle a moan as he circles one sensitive areola, careful not to actually touch the stiffed nipple itself.
He spends a generous amount of time toying with one and then the other, ignoring her mewls and sighs. She arches beneath him, attempting to bring that teasing mouth closer to her aching breasts, but he always pulls away before coming back to torment her.
After Evie lets out a particularly loud and frustrated groan, he chuckles and then, in one long lick, laves her nipple completely with his dexterous tongue. Before she can demand the same treatment for the other one, he's moved on, going down to her panties, which he removes with the same tenderness as he did with her shirt.
A blush blooms on her cheeks, but her legs fall open for him, exposing her sex like a ripe peach. Blake strokes the outside of her mound, and then lets his index finger trace the line of her slit, pressing in gently until he finds the little nodule of hyper-sensitive nerves with his thumb. Her whole body is tense with anticipation before him, so he slides in his finger slowly, rubbing her clit in little circles all the while. It's easy going, because she is so wet for him, and after a few leisurely pumps he adds a second, and then a third finger. She throws her head back, tossing it from side to side every time his thumb presses down on her clit, breathing heavily.
His erection is raging now, demanding attention. He withdraws his fingers from her and strips off his pants. Moving quicker than he thought possible, he gets off the bed, yanks open the top drawer of his nightstand, removes a small square package, rips it open, and puts on the condom. Then he's back on the bed, and she places one leg on either side of him, and gives him a nod.
The first push is met with some resistance; she's wet and he's worked her up with his fingers, but she's still a small woman. The second push slides in, though, and with a grunt he sinks himself all the way in. She's so tight around him that the pleasure is almost on the same side as pain. Both of them are sweating and panting, but she wraps her legs around his waist and presses against his buttocks with her heels, urging him on. Slowly, he withdraws until the tip is almost out, and then slowly presses all the way back in. He keeps the pace measured, pumping in and out with long deliberate strokes, making sure to angle himself so that the ridges of his cock run against her clit each time he moves. It takes Blake everything to keep from spending himself quickly with a few quick thrusts, but her face and her constant gasps and wriggling against him make it more than worth the effort.
Evie shudders and cries out, her walls undulating around his cock, nails digging into his shoulders. Blake lets out a mighty groan as he follows her, the primal power of feeling his seed shooting into her overwhelming.
They lie there panting for long moments, her hands curled in his short brown hair, breasts heaving against his chest, until with a wet squelch he withdraws his spent penis and rolls onto his back, bringing her against his side.
"Thank you," she whispers against his neck, and then lets out a breathy laugh. "That was my first orgasm."
"The first of many, if I have anything to say about it."
And though they're both sweaty and sticky, they fall asleep pressed together even as full bright rays stream into the room, the sunlight washing over their bodies.
Author's Note: Obviously this chapter is from Blake's POV. I love writing him, I find him to be so much more of a subtle character than I thought at first just from watching the movie. Of course I had to include that amazing monologue where he confronts Bruce, though I use it in a different way. In the movie this is part of him telling Bruce that he knows he's Batman; here I use it to let Evie know how and why Blake is who he is. It was such a perfect piece of dialogue, I could never have written it better.
Kudos to those who caught the Dorsia reference! If you haven't seen American Psycho, I strongly suggest it. Without a doubt one of Christian Bale's best roles ever.
I apologize for the much shorter chapter this time, but hey, you got some sex out of it! Sweet jesus, I got my ladybits all moist just writing this thing...
Cheers and thanks for reading! Special thanks for those who reviewed and/or favorited!