A/N: I've been given coffee after not having slept for the past 3 days or so. I'm so tired I could probably fall to the ground right now and fall asleep if I didn't just start drinking the coffee.
P.S. You guys wanted more Diana, so I've finally brought Diana back for a little while!
Thx!
AMM
The elevator slides open and many cops brush past Harvey and I.
I step out of the elevator and adjust my tie as we begin to walk down the hall.
"Getting you in to see Falcone like this-I don't have to tell you how many rules we're breaking. Don't get me wrong, I'm always here for you," except for when my name receives negative attention it seems. "But this could land us both in hot water. I pulled all the strings I had with the Lieutenant. This better not come back to bite us."
"Look, I get that, Harv, okay? And it means a lot to me."
Harvey sighs. "I know it does Bruce. Doesn't make it any easier. The last time we brushed shoulders with Falcone, the press made us pay." We go to walk around the corner when Harvey steps in front of me with arms folded. "At least tell me what this is about."
"This is a personal matter, Harvey," I tell him. His eyebrows knit in confusion.
Harvey uncrosses his arms and steps back. "Fine, fine, don't tell me. But I hope none of this comes back to bite us. I don't want headlines taking away from my debate with Hill." Oh no, of course not. Nothing about ruining Harvey's chance for office. None of that, definitely not.
"Gentlemen," I hear from behind me. I turn and see Gordon approaching us. "We've finally put Falcone in his cage," Jim states proudly as he shakes our hands. "Thanks to the information you gave me, Bruce, he won't ever get out." I mentally wince. I didn't tell Harvey about this.
"Oh, I'm sorry-information? What information?" Harvey crosses his arms again.
"Oh….I assumed you knew. I was going to contact your office first thing."
"I gave him some evidence against Falcone," I explain vaguely to Harvey.
"More like a catalogue to his entire criminal empire." Gordon corrects. "It's a case that'll put Falcone away for life."
"Is that a fact?" Harvey asks, sounding like he's trying to hide how upset he is about being kept out of the loop.
"It's the reason I said yes to this….unorthodox request." Gordon begins walking away when a cop stops him.
I recognize her from the rooftop a couple nights ago and from the warehouse and Skyline Club. She seems to be one of the top cops if I see her at the front of all the action. "Nice job bringing in Falcone. That son of a bitch better not get off again," she states angrily, crossing her arms.
"He's not getting off the hook, Renee. Not this time." Gordon continues walking down the hall and Harvey and I go to follow when the cop stops me.
"Mr. Wayne? Sergeant Renee Montoya. I just wanted to say, some of us police support you. Despite what the media is saying,"
"Thanks sergeant," she blushes slightly and grins before I nod to her as a goodbye and jog to catch up with Harvey and Gordon.
"We're keeping Falcone in the infirmary. He's lucky he didn't get roughed up more. I could tell Batman wanted to kill him, but he held back. He cares about doing the right thing." Gordon says passionately.
"Whoever he is behind that mask, I'd say Gotham's lucky to have him."
"Yeah, it's great to know he's out there watching over the city," Harvey says, adding in his two cents worth. We round another corner and see two cops standing outside of a closed door.
"Alright. Falcone's inside. Say what you gotta say. We'll be out here." Gordon tells me as the two cops leave the door. I walk up to the door and take a deep breath before opening the door and slipping inside.
I see Falcone lying in a hospital bed, unconscious. The machines beeping, keeping track of his heartbeat, he has oxygen being supplied to his lungs when his eyes crack open.
"The hell? Bruce Wayne?" I step closer to the foot of the bed. "You must have some clout. My own wife can't get in to see me. Good thing I'll be outta here in a week," he says confidently. "Just like every other time they tried to put me away."
"You look like you tangled with the wrong guy," I state, crossing my arms.
"Ha, this is nothing. You shoulda seen me before I became the boss. I'd show up all beat to hell. Your father would sew me back together." I turn away at the mention of my father. "Yeah, that's right. Tommy and I were close," Falcone brags. "More than friends. More like cousins!" he continues to brag. "Going back decades."
I turn back to Falcone, clearly angry. "Until you sent Joe Chill to kill him." I accuse.
"Ah, so that's what this is really about? The pup digging up a twenty year old killi-"
"Two killings," I cut him off. "And they were never forgotten."
"You and me," his hand loosely gestures between us from where it lies on the bed. "We're practically family. I thought you'd have figured that out by now. I tried to get through to you at Dent's party. Maybe I should have spelled it out."
"We are not family, Falcone." I turn back to him. "I'm nothing like you."
"If you're anything like Thomas Wayne, then we're not so different. Your father. Hill. And me. We ran this city. Still do." He suddenly coughs and winces. "Goddamn this pain. Can't think through it. Morphine's on the side there," he rolls his head to the table set up beside his bed. "Be a good boy and help Uncle Carmine out, huh?" I look at the needle, full of morphine, enough to get revenge. Carmine begins to pant as I approach the syringe. I could hurt him, leave him in pain or take the syringe and empty it into his bloodstream, killing him. Or, I could ease his pain. I do still need answers.
Once again horrified that I would even consider killing someone, I'm a little quick to pick up the syringe. I calm as I walk around the edge of the bed and to his IV pole. I begin to insert the fluid into the correct spot, making sure I don't overdue it.
"Forty years I keep my veins clean of any of that gunk. But you never forget the tender kiss." His eyes slide shut for a second before reopening and looking to me. "It'd be so easy to give me the whole vial, wouldn't it? Enough there to put an old dog down forever." I pull the needle from the port.
"Of course, then you'd never know the whole story." Falcone's eyes slide shut once more and he seems to relax as the medicine kicks in. "How much of your parents do you have in you?" he asks. "What kind of son did Thomas Wayne make?"
"I'm not a murderer," I tell him, setting the syringe down.
"No, you're not. That's why you were kept in the dark. Much better, kid. Thank you…." I sit in the chair beside the bed. "Gesture like that, reminds me of your mother. Your father may have been the doctor, but Martha-she had the human touch. Think you got more of her in you, to tell the truth. There's a kindness in ya."
"I lost her so young. I hardly remember anything about her." I confess quietly.
"She had steel in her, did Martha. She was the only one that had a hold on your father."
I stand suddenly, remembering why I'm here. "Until you hired an assassin to kill them both."
"What, you really think I hired Chill?" I stand at the end of the bed with my arms folded tightly across my chest. "Sure, I worked with Joe Chill from time to time. Put a button on someone, he'd take 'em out. But I never hired that hit on your parents."
"So who did?" I demand.
"You can't trust anyone in Gotham, least of all those you call friend. Your parents learned that the har-" The door opens and tow gunshots go off, each hitting Falcone. One hits him in the chest, the other in the forehead. The heart monitor goes dead instantly. My eyes widen and I turn to see Detective Montoya holding a smoking gun in front of her.
"They're waiting for you in hell!" She shouts! I can tell something's off but in the rush of it all, I can't tell what. I see Gordon running for us in the hall and see Montoya turning to face him, but I quickly charge at her, pulling her arm sharply behind her back and forcing her face to the ground. The gun clatters to the floor a few feet away. "The bastard had to die!" Upon closer inspection, Montoya has bulging blue veins surrounding her mouth and her lips are dark grey. Very unnatural.
"Hands in the air!" A cop calls from the hallway.
"Stand down!" Gordon orders. "Get a doctor! Secure this floor!" I quickly stand from Montoya. I look to Falcone lying dead with his blood pooling on the bed beneath him while Gordon continues to bark orders. So close. I was so close to knowing who wanted my parents dead. I cross my arms and put my head in my hand. What a mess.
Gordon leads me out of the room and to an interrogation room, a couple cops stumbling behind us with Montoya. They seat her in a chair and put a pair of handcuffs around her wrists. She slumps forward, her head making a hard thud as it hits the table. Gordon reaches up and flips off the camera before lighting a cigarette, looking greatly stressed and old for his age. He takes a long drag as he looks to Montoya when Harvey walks in.
"We are in deep shit," he says, still facing the door. Then he turns to face Gordon and I. "I've bought us some time, but not much. Words gonna get out sooner or later." I cross my arms when Harvey slams his hands down on the table, Gordon jumping slightly. "Why would she do something like this? We had Gotham's biggest crime lord in our grasp! So close! We were so close!"
"I don't, I don't know-I hardly recognize her when she burst in. She was so different from the woman we met in the hall."
"Ahh, it's a disgrace. Another officer gone rogue." This angers Gordon as he throws his cigarette to the ground, moving from his position against the wall.
"It just doesn't make any sense! She'd never do anything to hurt the department." Gordon looks up, his eyebrows creased with worry but instead of looking to Harvey who can do something, he looks to me.
"Falcone's case meant justice for a thousand unnamed victims. And now it is a PR disaster." I watch quietly from the corner I'm standing in. I sympathize with Gordon. One of his best cops killed someone he's been trying to lock up for years and it's all because something was obviously wrong with her. Harvey on the other hand is too concerned about his image and what this'll mean for his campaign and I don't appreciate what all this is doing to him. If this is how Harvey is going to be in office, I'm starting to regret my decision to back and fund him.
"How can I run against corruption when our own cops are redecorating the precinct with their prisoners' brains? Listen, we gotta get out in front of this. We gotta spin it as best we can. Issue a statement saying we have the shooter in custody." Harvey tells Gordon who still looks upset. "The details are coming in and we're investigating. The usual."
I finally step in. "Slow down, Harvey. We need the facts first."
"The simple fact is she walked in and shot him." Harvey states angrily. Harvey's never been one to look so backwardly at this. He's supposed to be the one wanting the whole story, not demanding that she punished for the simple act without knowing why and Gordon seems to read my mind as he steps closer to Harvey, looking up at the slightly taller man.
"Then we need the complex facts like how and why!" The silent argument is cut off when a cop opens the door.
"Lieutenant….Mr. District Attorney….Faclone's lawyers are here."
"Christ," Gordon mutters.
"I can delay them for a little while. But we still need answers." Harvey tells Gordon before walking out. Right before Gordon leaves, Montoya groans a little.
"Tell me if she says anything. I have to know why she did this." Gordon requests before closing the door behind him.
Montoya continues moaning and groaning as she begins to come around. I slip my hand into my pocket and pull out my earpiece.
"Alfred-Falcone's been murdered."
"Good God-" Alfred quietly replies as he processes the words.
"I'm looking into it, but I'll need access to the Batcomputer for anything I find."
My phone beeps before Alfred says, "Connection secured."
"Alfred, I'm going to try and confirm some suspicions of mine."
I turn on the high-powered camera that'll help see the more hard to find details. I zoom in on Montoya's mouth and the still clear blue veins around the edges. But then I see something on her neck. "A fresh injection site." I mutter to myself, seeing some sort of liquid that's seeped out of it. "That doesn't look like blood. It's a lot darker and has a bluish tint to it.
I stand up straight and turn the camera off. "Alfred, I think I found the substance. Analyze and forward me the result."
"Of course. I will be in touch as soon as I have the results." I hear the cuffs start to jangle as Montoya sits up. I look at her as I slip my phone in my pocket. She looks generally confused and afraid.
"Where am I? Mister Wayne?" She looks up to me with pleading eyes. Then she seems to notice the cuffs on her as she raises them up in front of her eyes, blinking multiple times as if she were trying to wake up. "What's going on?" As I continue to look at her, she looks down and puts her hands in her lap. "I got this awful feeling something terrible happened."
I pull out the extra chair and sit down. "Sergeant, you have to think. What do you remember?" She stares at the table before realization washes over her face.
"Oh God-Falcone….I was hoping it wasn't real." She looks to me helplessly.
"I believe you were drugged, Sergeant," I tell her.
"I-it would explain a lot of it. Listen, you have to believe me. I talk big about hurting thugs like Falcone-but I would never-never-betray the Lieutenant. Everything is so-foggy. I remember a sharp pain."
I lean forward and rest my elbows on the table. "There's an injection site on your neck." I reveal.
"Then I just felt light-like I could do whatever I wanted. No guilt. No consequence." She looks at the cuffs on her wrists again. "There was a voice in my ear insisting Falcone was gonna get off and all I knew was that I had to stop that. I had to. No matter what. The reasons why I shouldn't-they were a million miles away."
"Did you see a face? Could you ID a suspect?" I ask.
"I-I don't think so."
"You must remember some detail. Try," I push.
She shakes her head and closes her eyes. "I remember a hand on my arm. Guiding me. Like a parent with a child. The voice-it was saying something about 'revolution.'" I lean back at the end. Revolution?
"Cobblepot said something similar," I mutter when the door opens. Gordon rushes to Montoya when he sees that she's awake.
"I'm so sorry, Lieutenant." She says, beginning to cry. Gordon kneels beside her. "I've let you down."
"We've stalled Falcone's lawyers for now. But they'll be back." Harvey says. "How is she? Did she tell you anything?"
"Don't worry about that now," Gordon says as he tries to soothe the crying cop.
"I found evidence that she was drugged. A fresh injection site on her neck." I tell Harvey but Montoya had quieted to silent sobs so she and Gordon hear me.
"I was out of my mind, Lieutenant. Please believe me!"
"Hey, I do! Of course I do!" he soothes before turning to the cop standing at the door. "Get forensics in here now!" the cop nods and runs off.
"She remembers a voice saying something about revolution."
"That's not much to go on," Gordon says.
"Now, if you're bringing forensics in, let's get Bruce out." I nod and walk past Harvey and out into the hall. I head towards the elevator and ride quietly to the main floor with a couple other cops on high alert. I walk out into the main entrance.
"Alfred, I've got a lead on whoever's behind this." I say quietly.
"Bruce!" I hear behind me. I stop and look over my shoulder as Vicki Vale comes up to me. Great. "What are you doing here? My friends in the GCPD have been telling stories-about some kind of lock down?"
"I'm sorry, Vicki. I don't have time," I turn and walk away.
"Don't brush me off-" She jogs to catch up to me before falling into stride beside me. "Word is there were shots fired-near where Falcone was being held. Know anything about that? You must've been back there when it happened."
"Where did you get that?" I brush off and avoid the question.
"So it's true?" I stop right before the front doors as Vicki turns and stops in front of me.
"No, I didn't say that."
"Word is, you turned over enough dirt on Falcone to put him in Blackgate Prison for life. A day after he showed up at your house. And now you're here." She steps closer to me. You can't afford to be associated with another scandal. I can keep your name out of whatever we print, but you need to give me something I can use. Who fired the shots? A cop? I can tell by the way you're brushing it off that something happened." I know Vicki will remember me leaving her, but I can't let her snoop around like this.
"Please-get out of my way, Vicki. I'm in a hurry."
"Hmm, disappointing. Maybe you have more to do with this than I thought." I hear from behind me but knowing she's just trying to make me stay, I keep walking.
~Diana's POV~
I shut off the shower and reach for the towel. I quickly dry myself off before stepping out. After taking a smaller towel and wrapping my hair, I wrap my body and begin my nightly ritual.
"Hey, Diana," I hear Kal call for me.
"Yeah?"
"Uh, you might want to come see this!" I quickly dress, pulling on one of Bruce's old t-shirts that smells just like him and so comforting and a pair of shorts before dashing out of my room. As I approach the small living room, I can hear the newscaster on the TV.
"Earlier today, information was revealed about Gotham's favorite son, Bruce Wayne. Evidence has surfaced that the Golden Family of Gotham, isn't so golden after all. Here's a clip of what happened earlier." I come to stand next to Kal with wide eyes and his face mirrors my expression as the screen changes to what was supposed to be an innocent press conference about the new mental facility being built in Martha and Thomas Wayne's name. Bruce has put so much time and money into this project.
"But Mr. Wayne! This morning, the Globe received evidence of an off-shore account managed by Carmine Falcone and your father, Thomas Wayne."
"What exactly are you implying?" Bruce grinds out.
"Transactions connected to organize crime, going back years….and continuing to this day. The paper trail ties your family directly to the mob." I gasp in surprise. Bruce would never have any connections to Carmine Falcone. "Care to comment?" the reporter asks smugly, noticing that he seems to have pinched a nerve with Bruce.
Bruce takes a deep breath before looking straight at the reporter. "And did anyone else get this evidence?" he asks.
"The Globe, the Gazette, we all did!" The barely controlled chaos breaks out into a mad dash to get Bruce's attention with the next question about his family playing dirty and Wayne Enterprises and Legacy being built on dirty money.
"I think you should check your source!" Bruce has to practically shout. "It sounds to me like an intern is finally putting their creative writing minor to good use!" And with that, Bruce is ushered off the stage by the man standing next to him. Harvey Dent, I believe.
Then it switches back to the newscaster. "Just earlier this evening, fire and smoke could reportedly be seen from street level. Tonight, The Skyline Club, a high-rise mafia hangout in downtown Gotham, was the arena for a clash between the notorious Batman and alleged mob boss, Carmine Falcone, who was found dangling over a fifty story drop. Bet Falcone loved that view. Though I'd say the crime boss getting his is well over due, Falcone has slipped through the laws grasp for years. But after this dramatic arrest and evidence released by the GCPDs Lieutenant Gordon, Falcone's going away for a long, long time.
"And speaking of newly uncovered criminal dealings, this brings me to the story, everyone is talking about. The Wayne Family. For generations, the big W on the Wayne Enterprises Tower was a reassuring sight. You knew that there was something pure at the heart of Gotham-that this city, for all its faults, was built by good people. But with Thomas and Martha's shiny reputation called into question, we no longer have such assurances. And even worse, it seems the apple hasn't fallen far from the tree. Gotham's 'greatest son', Bruce Wayne, seen here in the company of gangsters," a picture shows in the top corner of Bruce scowling at a balding man in a fancy suit, flocked by others with dark sunglasses, turtle neck sweaters and blazers, with his hand held out and a greasy smile on his face, "may be just as crooked as his parents. In his defense, Wayne fired back, saying, 'The Wayne family has always been a cornerstone of Gotham. We have never had, and never will have, connections to organized crime.' In a world where the Wayne's, our golden family, are corrupt, who are we left with? Who can Gothamites look up to? This supposed 'hero' Batman? Only time will tell.
"Meanwhile, we'll keep digging for the truth, but the prominent feeling throughout Gotham is that the Wayne's time in the sun….is ending." The newcaster wishes everyone a good night and then some late night TV switches on.
"Oh, Bruce," I run back to my room and scour the bed for my phone, swearing that I left it there when I spot it on the floor, peeking out from under the bed. I quickly grab for it and dial Bruce's number. The phone rings 5 times before Bruce picks it up.
"Hey, Princess," he says quietly. I can immediately tell that he's upset and frustrated.
"Hey, Baby," I whisper. "I saw what happened on TV,"
"Oh, you saw that. At least I don't have to explain it then."
"How are you doing? Honestly."
"If I weren't so frustrated, I'd try to assure you I'm fine, but honestly, Princess, I'm so damn angry. I've been led to believe all these years that my parents were good people, that they were the one good thing in this damn city and I find out today that all that's a lie, that my parents were," he pauses and I hear him take a deep breath. "A lie."
"Bruce-"
"And Alfred knew! Alfred knew that they were friends with gangsters, that they did bad things, that the Wayne fortune is built on dirty money and he didn't tell me! He let me figure it all out from reporters that somehow found this information." Alfred was like a father to Bruce. I would be upset if something as big as this was kept from me too.
"I forgive him, you and him are all I have, but I'm still so upset." There's a pause before Bruce starts talking again, much quieter, barely a whisper. "I went to the ally today. All those years ago, all I had remembered were my mother's pleas and the gunshots but this morning, I forced myself to really think of what happened that night. And I remembered so much more. I remembered Dad mentioning Falcone and that Chill had nearly shot me before he heard sirens. I had been so focused on my parents being murdered as a robbery gone wrong because that's what it'd been made to look like, but it was actually an assassination. So I paid a visit to Falcone." Bruce's voice turned menacing.
"Bruce, you didn't-"
"No, but I wanted to at first." He admits. "He was in the GCPD, in one of the infirmary rooms because of the beating I'd given him at the Skyline Club. I accused him of killing my parents but he explained it all and part of me wants to believe him. He said that he was like a cousin to my father, that he had never ordered the hit on my parents. But right as he was about to tell me who might have, a cop came into the room and shot him dead before aiming at me. I didn't think, I just tackled her to the ground but-"
"Bruce, stop and take a breath. All of this is happening too fast, even for you. It's ok. Just take a deep breath and try to relax, if only for a moment." I hear Bruce take a deep breath and try to calm down but I can hear his erratic breathing still.
"I-I can't. I have too much energy. I need a few hours in the training room."
I know I have a mission right now, but for a little while, Bruce is more important. "Give me just a moment, Bruce." I put the phone down then jog out to Kal who's moved to be sitting on the couch, flipping channels but still looking worked up.
"How is he doing?"
"Not good. Apparently it's all true and Alfred kept it from him. He's not happy."
"No, I would assume he isn't."
"I'm going to go see him. It won't be for long but he's working himself up and can't seem to relax. I'll be back later." Normally Kal would try to dissuade us from leaving, but he just nods, knowing one of the most powerful and important members of the league, despite being human, is not himself right now. I grab my phone and hang up, not giving any explanation to Bruce and quickly request transport.
I materialize in the Batcave but don't see or hear Bruce down here. I quickly run up the stairs, only just now realizing that I'm not wearing anything other then Bruce's t-shirt and a pair of shorts. The clock in the library moves out of the way and there's Bruce, staring at his phone. He looks up at me as I run to him and wrap my arms around his chest.
Bruce releases a shaky sigh before wrapping his arms around me and pressing his head to my shoulder. He doesn't cry, but he continues breathing heavily and unsteadily, his grip almost unbearably tight.
I let him hold me as long as he needs to, knowing Bruce just needs something stable to grapple onto, something he can rely on to not let him fall completely.
"Come here, Bruce. Come sit down with me." His grip lessens as he unwraps himself from around me. I take his hand and lead him to the couch, allowing him to sit before I sit down beside him, folding my legs underneath me. I put my arm around the back of the couch, my fingers finding their way in the hair at the nape of Bruce's neck where I scratch comfortingly. I look at Bruce and he's staring across the room at the painting of him and his family hanging above the fireplace.
"Hey," he tilts his head towards me slightly to acknowledge he heard me. "You know they loved you, right? That you were their world?" I bring my other hand up to brush my fingers through his disheveled hair.
"I know, but why-I can't understand why they would do these things. Deals with crime bosses, dirty money, lies to build their empire. I always doubted we were totally clean in every single aspect, what empire is, but I never knew it was like this. That it was this bad." His eyes slide to look at me and I can see the broken little boy staring back. I lean forward and gently press my lips to his. He kisses back, lips soft against mine before his hands slide into my hair, holding me to him as his kiss demands more of me, becoming rougher and more passionate in his attempt to escape reality, if only for a little while. Who am I to deny him this reprieve?
He stands and I follow after him, his hands moving to grab my hips as my own slide to grip tightly at the front of his white button down shirt. His kisses move onto my neck and I gasp at the teasing nips his teeth sneak out to deliver upon the soft skin of my neck. Grasping for the buttons on his shirt, I quickly undo them as he slides his hands beneath my shirt, running over the skin of my stomach and the small of my back. The moment his shirt is open, he's pulling my shirt up and over my head, growling at the sight of my bare chest.
He pulls his shirt off as I wrap my arms around his neck, reconnecting our mouths before he picks me up, giving me perfect access to grind against him. His arms wrap around my back as I hold on tightly to his shoulders, rolling my hips into his as we continue to kiss passionately. He sets me on the edge of the pool table so he can descend my body, covering my chest, my navel, my hips, before reaching the waistband of my shorts. He kneels in front of me, pulling my shorts down my legs. I stand long enough for him to get them off of me before I sit back on the edge of the table.
In this frantic rush we've begun, neither of us have bothered to slow down for anything but as Bruce comes back to me, his actions slow, his kisses slow, and his entire focus shifts to savoring as he kisses up the inside of my thighs before reaching the apex and licking all the way up my most sensitive part. I lean back on one arm and shove the hand of the opposite arm into his hair, holding him to me as he licks and suck, nipping occasionally to make my breath catch and biting to make me cry out. His right arm hooks under my leg and holds me to him while the other snakes up my chest to grasp at my breasts. My hips can't seem to help but roll into him, accepting the pleasure he's giving me wholeheartedly.
It's not too long before I'm gripping tightly at the hair on the back of Bruce's head, rolling my hips with his tongue, and calling out his name in a mantra. With one last suck and nip, I fall apart and Bruce drinks me down the best he can, not complaining once when my thighs lock tightly around his head.
Once I begin to come down from my high, Bruce pries my thighs apart, kissing back up my body as he rises from his knees. When he leans in to kiss me, I bite as his lower lip while my hands reach for his belt buckle, my breathing still erratic against his mouth with no signs of evening soon.
The moment his belt is loose, his pants are being pushed down his hips along with his boxers and he's picking me up again. My arms instinctively return to being wrapped around his neck as he angles himself to slide into me when he lowers me down slightly, causing me to moan appreciatively. He walks back towards the couch raising and dropping me as he walks, making me writhe and whine in his grip.
He makes it to the couch and wastes no time laying me on top of it, pushing the decorative pillows off and plowing into me. He hips snap into mine as he releases all his pent up energy on my willing body. Bruce ruts against me like a wild animal and I can't find a good place to put my hands as I cry out and arch into him, my body accepting the sharp pleasure and slight twinge of pain from his rough motions gratefully.
"Uh! Uh! Uh! Bruce!" I cry as my hands find his back, scratching deeply, narrowly missing his gunshot wound while my world rips apart and shatters into millions of pleasure filled pieces. His teeth clench and he hisses through them, his movements somehow gaining even more power. He continues to ravage me and power himself into me, as I chant his name when he suddenly picks me up and rolls us over, allowing me to settle on top of him as he relaxes back against the couch, hands on the tops of my thighs. I place my hands on his chest and push myself to be sitting upright before attempting to continue his bone-jarring movements but I can't seem to manage the same level of intensity. However, Bruce's mouth falls open and one of his hands reaches desperately behind him to grab at the couch cushion.
I alternate between bouncing on him and rolling my hips, my eyes remaining in the back of my head as each movement pushes him against the special spot deep inside of me. Feeling me tighten again, his hips begin to lift and meet mine, slamming up into me as I put my hands behind me to rest on his knees and give him the perfect view of him sliding home every time before I break apart again. I begin to fall backwards, my body going limp, when Bruce sits up and holds us together, his hips continuing to pump up into me, helping elongate my pleasure. His grip turns bruising as his hand slides around from my thigh to my hip, holding me tightly to him before he finally finds his own release and finishes, his body tightening under me and his hips jerking with each string of release inside of me. I groan, fully accepting all his body is giving me as we both collapse back against the couch.
We remain connected as we catch our breath. Minutes later, when we've calmed, I lift my head from his chest and see him looking at the ceiling distractedly. I kiss directly over his heart and his eyes shift to me, the intensity shocking me for a moment before he hugs me tightly to him. I hold onto him as well, offering my support as we huddle together to keep the bad things of the world out, at least for now.
Well, now I'm all hyper from drinking coffee so I can just crash and burn later and make this exhaustion even worse then it already is. Ah, you just gotta love being an insomniac!
Thx!
AMM
