"I never thought I'd live to see the day…" Alfred whispered those emotionally-charged words to Dory, dabbing her eyes, as the two continued to witness the clandestine, yet chic, non-denominational wedding ceremony of Selina and Bruce. "Our young ward, no longer all that young. Now a husband, wed to this ravishing beauty." Alfred whisked a few tears from the corner of his eyes. True, the new Mrs. Wayne was a bit rough around her curvy edges, but she was a refreshing change. The young woman was charismatic, oozed spunk, and imbued Bruce with a new lease on life.

"He deserves to be happy," Dory added, imagining Martha's and Thomas' faces brimming with deep-seated emotions. Would they have approved of their son's choice? Speculation was nothing but a crap shoot. "Selina has very lively eyes." On several occasions, Dory had noted that those eyes had a way of smoldering down to one's soul. "And, as you've said many a time. She is pretty. Exceedingly so. A true vision."

"Yes, indeed she is, and she does have scintillating eyes," Alfred quietly corroborated, with glints in his own.

Mrs. Selina Kyle-Wayne stood proud, and though diminutive, stood tall as well. Coincidentally enough, she was thinking the same as Alfred. She never thought she'd see herself having a wedding day, let alone marrying this man who wasn't as much of a staggering mystery to her. In her mind's eye, Selina pictured Maria's tear-stained face. Maria seeing her daughter dressed in her silk Pnina Tornai off-white, applique mermaid dress with long sleeves and a V-neck. Selina was a sultry vision of celebratory loveliness. Hearing Dory's sniffling in the background brought a smile to her lips. Too bad Maria wasn't alive to lend her sniffles to this memorable event.

Selina chuckled to herself; the gothic setting wasn't ecclesiastical, but it was fitting. Eccentric, like her new husband. To be brutally honest, so was she, which explained why it had been attraction more or less at first sight.

She really was head-over-heels for V, Bats—Bruce.

As he had made clear, he'd invited her into this circle of three, and now she was being absorbed into the triumvirate. Alfred and Dory had gone out of their way to make her feel right at home. A first in her checkered past, Selina luxuriated in that cozy, open-arms, 'you're one of us now, dearie.

Although Bruce wearing a tux wasn't a new episode in GQ fandom, he was 'tuxedo-ed' to the max, absolutely regal in his black velvet Brioni tux. Her man—her man—that was some heady thought kicking in Selina's head. He lit up his entire real estate, this Wayne Tower, a throwback to more hereditary times. Times that could change given the right circumstances.

His voice silken, Bruce whispered in Selina's ear, "If you'd like a bigger ring, when we get to Santa Prisca, there's a jewelry—"

"Again, you're kiddin' me right? This rock is twenty pounds. I should be wearing sunglasses." She wriggled the ring finger of her left hand at him. "I know, baby. You're loaded. Like I have to be reminded every time you think you need to impress me. I stay impressed. Have been ever since you pinned me down on that table, and held me like a vise in the dead mayor's study." Gently, she nudged Bruce in his well-dressed ribs. "But…" She gripped his hand to inspect his band of solid white gold. "If you feel you need another ring as a double reminder that you're married to me, by all means. Knock yourself out."

Before the jovial, broad-faced Justice of the Peace, Cleveland Atwell, and Bruce's deeply-moved, beloved staff, he and Selina double-downed on the vows just exchanged. Taking his bride in his arms, and closing his kind eyes, Bruce kissed Selina, awakening new hunger in her. He funneled into her ear, "Ready to be eaten alive?"

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Bats."

"I don't." Muddled, but not about to let that seep through, he held her tighter with a flickering smile.

"Your hair looks nice," Selina felt she must say because suddenly she didn't feel as cocky as she did before the melding of their lives. "Class act."

Having his sides short, and the long hair on top spiked made a bold statement: Mr. Bruce Thomas Wayne could pull off 'Wow!' No sweat.

"You're my trendy example." Bruce adored every wig she owned, and feeling her return his squeeze of her hand sent him soaring to higher heights.

She'd chosen a long haired, light brown wig with subtle auburn highlights piled atop her head in a dramatic updo. "You've come a long way, baby."

"We both have." Bruce was pretty sure not many people would have stray cats at their wedding. He was glad to make the concession for his wife's sake. These were her waifs, her loveable moochers, welcomed as witnesses to their beautiful benefactress' nuptials. Far from being a cat-lover, Bruce assured Selina that her felines would always be well taken care of in their new home.

Selina nibbled her lower lip coquettishly. "But not far enough." The suggestive look in her eyes made the blush on Bruce's neck creep higher. Her voice for his ears only, she enticed, "I'm starving." She watched the ingratiating expression that filtered into his face.

"There's a special dinner prepared," he innocently divulged, thinking she was sure to be surprised. Her favorite foods, the ones she'd mentioned to him, here and there, were on the menu. Tomato and avocado soup, mixed greens, carrot and cucumber side with honey apple cider vinaigrette, roasted Atlantic salmon with strips of Shitake mushrooms, leeks and soy ginger sauce and fresh strawberry with strawberry buttercream icing wedding cake had all been crafted with love. Chilled, zingy pink champagne was sure to tickle everyone's palate.

Grasping his hands, looking deeply into his charismatic eyes, Selina said, "Wouldn't you rather feast on me first…" Unabashedly, she pressed the palms of his hands, the very hands he used to pound losers to pulp, into her mouth, caressing his fleshy palms with her cinnamon matte-stained lips. "That's my vajay-cave growling."

The scratchy dryness of his throat intensified. He heard himself exhale, and his loosened tongue let words slip. "B-but I thou—"

"For you. I'm starving for you, Ba—I mean, Bruce." He took on a faraway look, hearing her say his name like that. Fortifying her coquetry with some fluttery batting of her dramatically- mascaraed eyes, she pulled on his large manicured, yet calloused hands. "You feast on me. I feast on you, baby."

Dory and Alfred continued to look on, all smiles, doting on the married couple's palpable intimacy. Whatever Selina was saying pleased Bruce. Never had they seen such primal affection radiate from him.

His voice thick, his tongue sluggish, Bruce managed to push out, "Alfred, we'll sup later. Thank you. Dory. For being here for us. Oh, and Mr. Atwell, please. Stay. Have dinner with them. Stay for as long as you wish…" Selina was giving him her 'the wheels are turning' look. Instead of voicing a 'what,' he paused, handing her look back.

Mr. Atwell, Dory and Alfred looked like tadpoles suspended in limbo.

Mumbling, Selina said, "I'm no social butterfly, but I'm not totally lacking manners. We should eat with everybody. We can 'eat' later. Are we cool, baby?"

Somewhat, but not entirely thrown for a loop, Bruce nodded, pacing himself as he went along, admiring her attitude. In his soft, rumbly voice he said, "Sure, sure. That's absolutely fine. We're cool." Smiling, he nudged the side of her sweet-smelling head with a conciliatory kiss. "You'd better eat up, Selina. You'll need the energy."

Giving Bruce's groin a wicked unobserved squeeze, she promised, "And you think you won't? You've been warned."

"I'm all about warnings. Sometimes, I even take them seriously." He believed in her. Immersing himself in his beautiful wife's innate sensuality would make this first intimate encounter everything Selina deserved. It was going to be perfect—no gaffs—no flubs. No mask, although, if she wanted him to wear it, she wouldn't have to ask him twice.

"Hmm, seriously, hon..." Her hand traveled to his left butt cheek. "I can't wait to unwrap these buns."

As forward as she, Bruce muttered, "Works for me." Her firm touch was an electric shock, storming through his brain and branching out beneath his skin. His tingling body craved hers, but old, reliable self-control took the bite out of his swelling need. She'd respected his sense of propriety. He'd reward her with wave after wave of unadulterated potent pleasure.

Mr. Cleveland Atwell had nothing but praise for the gourmet meal. On his way out of Wayne Tower he assured his hosts that feeding him had been thoroughly unnecessary. Nevertheless, he ecstatically accepted a sizeable portion of salmon and a generous hunk of wedding cake to take with him. Alfred and Dory busied themselves with ancillary tasks to give the newlyweds after dinner alone time.

Seated at Bruce's right, Selena stretched catlike, eyeing him with a speculative look. With a wine glass in hand, he wondered what was on her mind. He knew her better, but second guessing her? No way. She'd run out on him, fearing what he wanted with her. Was she sorry she'd ignored her second thoughts, and didn't want any part of this decision now?

"Baby…" Selina crept the hand closest to his, laying hers atop it.

"Selina?" He couldn't help how hard, and he assumed, how loud, his heart was beating. If she couldn't see being married to him through, he wouldn't jump for joy, but he wouldn't force her to stay married to him either. He'd promised her that. At least let us consummate first, Sellie. Hot, mind-blowing sex might change your mind. Yes, I know how that sounds, but I can't lose you—I can't! You're my family! His face was a mask of regret.

With eyebrow arched, she asked, "You won't be upset with me, will you?"

Oh no—wait—we've got to have sex! C'mon! I'll do you anyway you want! His answer sailed from his mouth. "Of course not." As his head swam, he strained not to come undone in front of her.

"I'm stuffed. And not in a good way. Not the way we were looking forward to." She stroked his pale skin cherishing his anxious expression. "All the food was so good. I made a big pig of myself." She patted her bulging midsection. "See, I have a food baby bump." She gave him moony eyes. "Will you be really mad at me for not—"

"Becoming my sex slave tonight…"

"You wish," Selina ribbed, dropping the side of her face to the dining table. "Can you wait until we get to Santa Prisca to become mine?" She lifted her head in the next moment, and vowed, "You won't be sorry."

Moving his chair, he was practically on top of her. "No—I won't ever be, Mrs. Selina 'I love you so much' Wayne." Scrambling, he gathered her hands into his like her precious bouquet of lava burst orchids. He nuzzled each knuckle with his supple lips. "We'll set that tropical paradise on fire."

"On second thought—"

"May I?" Bruce helped woozy Selina to her feet. "It's time I put you to bed."

The former cat burglar, bar waitress and semi-retired nightclub singer gazed into her husband's eyes, which promised mischief, and defused his qualms. "I like the sound of that."

"Yeah. Me too." At his bedroom door, he opened it. When he picked Selina up into his arms, she hiccupped, giggling, as Bruce carried her over the threshold, and kicked the door shut with a foot.