Nota Bene: This story is not canon. I don't follow the comics and only know the various stories from the movies and growing up with Batman cartoons, supplemented with internet research. As with my previous stories, this started with a dream and is combined with ramblings of my own mind. In this case, it is a little personal fantasy, too. Batman. Mmm. Hot.

Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated.

Batman: Revelations

Chapter Six

Bruce had no idea what he was going to do about her. It had been days since his encounter with Selina, and yet he still struggled with the decision. Part of him wanted to pretend he hadn't met her, deny the fact that he had been just as drawn to her as a woman as he was the Cat. Selina Kyle could be far more dangerous to him than Catwoman ever was.

Catwoman was powerful and seductive, his playmate of years, the woman who infuriated him, and excited him like no other. Selina had been real, tangible, full of genuine smiles and an obvious love for her work and for the city of Gotham. She had given as much as she got and pushed him to drop the playboy routine, if only for a couple of hours. Her company felt comfortable, conversation easy. She was smart and kind.

He knew the attraction was there. He had seen familiar signs of that spark between them that constantly threatened to catch fire. He knew her reaction to him had surprised her; he had seen how flustered she got and the confusion flickering across her face when the simple touch of his lips to her hand had caused the air to sizzle between them. He reveled in her shiver that accompanied the hand on the small of her back.

But what he could not reconcile in his mind was the two women he knew. One, a caring museum curator, the other a criminal. How many millions of dollars in cash, jewels, and artifacts had she stolen over the years? Unconsciously, he rubbed the left side of his chest, where four parallel scars marred the skin above his heart.

And so for the time being, things continued as they always had. They met in the darkness, testing each other, both pushing the other to see how far it would go.

Except things had changed. Something about that emotional encounter when he was injured had changed their interactions, intensified them. Between bouts of banter, laced thick with sexual innuendo, the fevered roving of hands and the press of bodies, they found themselves having more what could almost be termed real conversations.

When he caught her in the act or pursued her after a heist, he continued to admonish her ways with a growl, and she reacted in kind. There were other nights, it was obvious she was out on the town only to find him. She would ask how his night had been, share news of the happenings in Gotham's underworld. They would stand together on a roof ledge and look out on the city, side by side, sharing a story of two of some misadventure they had suffered.

He knew this shouldn't continue, but he was powerless to make it stop.

"What time will you be making your escape tonight, sir?" Alfred cleared his throat "When shall I return with the car, that is, Master Bruce?"

Alfred met Bruce's eyes in the rearview mirror. He never lasted at these events longer than an hour or two, always slipping away, unnoticed, after just enough time that Gotham society made note of his presence.

"I'll call you, Alfred. Since the Wayne Foundation was sponsoring this charity ball, I may have to spend longer than usual." Bruce Wayne stepped out of his Bentley and took a deep breath, readying himself to step into the role of the playboy of Gotham.

This was a life she could get used to, Selina mused, as she moved through the crowd of well-dressed men and women, sipping champagne. The historic home had been tastefully decorated for the event, a jazz ensemble alternating between soulful tunes and upbeat numbers. Waiters with trays of canapés and wine circulating.

When a contact in the industry had invited her the previous week, she had jumped at the chance; she loved to people watch, and the glitz and the glamour of a Wayne even was too spectacular to turn down. Even better when her date had cancelled, she thought. She was grateful his flight out of Metropolis was delayed indefinitely due to snow.

Not that Benjamin was a bad guy. He meant well, and was genuinely kind. They had known each other for several years, having met at a museum fund-raiser. Though she knew he wanted more, there was no spark there for her. Tonight, free from a date, dressed to the nines, and at a glitzy event, she simply wanted to enjoy herself.

If only she could shake this feeling that someone was watching her.

—

Bruce had spotted her immediately. Her hair was swept up in an elegant knot, a few tendrils loose and framing her face. The the deep blue dress hugged every curve, the back plunged deep, exposing her spine down to the small of her back. She was watching the crowd, eyes dancing, one side of her red lips turned up in a faint smile.

Despite being waylaid by several well-meaning donors as soon as he arrived, he eventually extricated himself from his social obligations and went in search of her. When he found her again, she was dancing with a tall, broad-shouldered man, her eyes sparkling. He could hear her warm laughter as he approached. A sharp stab of jealously struck him.

The back of her neck tingled, pulling her attention away from the rather handsome and well-built man who had been outrageously flirting with her tonight and was currently whisking her across the dance floor. There it was again, she thought. That distinct feeling of eyes on her.

When ice blue eyes met hers across the room, she knew why. Bruce.

In merely a glance, she drank him in. Dressed again impeccably and in black. His tux was a classic cut, the jacket molded to his strong frame. When their eyes met, he casually adjusted the french cuffs of his shirt and smiled. He began to wind his way across the room towards her and she felt her pulse quicken.

"Pardon me." Bruce placed his hand on her dancing partner's shoulder. "May I cut in?" The man turned, flashing an irritated look towards the interloper, but quickly backed down when he saw who it was. The infamous Bruce Wayne. Apparently, there was no competing with him, as the man stepped away.

"It's been a pleasure, Selina. Perhaps another time, then." He kissed her hand as he departed, and Selina saw Bruce's eyes narrow.

What was that? She wondered. Jealously? Surely not. But the purely feminine side of her reveled the possibility.

Bruce deftly plucked two champagne flutes off a waiter's tray and handed one to her. "So nice to see you again, Miss Kyle." He grinned, but his eyes remained intense.

"Now Bruce, if you continue to call me Miss Kyle, I will start calling you Mr. Wayne again." She winked at him, and when she shifted closer to him, she was rewarded with a warm hand on the small of her back. Like it had the first time, the touch caused goosebumps to erupt over her skin, and a shiver to course through her.

"Alright, Selina." Her name on his lips just felt right.

"No date, Bruce? None of your usual tall, blonde, and gorgeous arm candy?" Unlike the previous encounter, she felt confident this time. There was no stammering, no flustered reaction to throw her off her game.

"No, not tonight. I seem to have worn out my welcome with a large portion of Gotham's eligible bachelorettes." He flashed that grin once again. "And you, Selina?"

"Alas, I seem to have gotten all dressed up for no one. My date got snowed in at the Metropolis airport, so I'm here all by my lonesome." She leaned in just a little closer. The look on his face was unmistakeable. He was just as interested as she was.

"Well, a lovely lady such as yourself should not go unescorted," he offered his arm. "May I?" When she looped her arm through his, they were both surprised to find a slow burn that continued following the initial flash of heat.

For the rest of the night, it was as if no one else existed. They danced, they laughed, they bantered — this time not in a back alley or atop a roof, but over champagne. They moved as one on the dance floor, anticipating each other's movements, as if they had done this a thousand times before. And when the band took a break, they sat companionably at the bar, sipping cocktails and discussing, of all things, philosophy.

Later, Selina would consider it was the most fun she had had in years while staying on the right side of the law.

As the evening came to a close, he escorted her to the coat check, and all the promises he had made to himself to remain on his best behavior were broken. Fueled by a couple cocktails and uncontrollable impulse, he pulled her quickly into the library and closed the door.

In a heartbeat, Selina was pressed up against the wall, his body hard against hers. Her eyes met his, surprise and delight evident. A gasp escaped her lips, every nerve ending in her body thrumming with energy.

When he stole the first kiss, she melted against him. The second found her ankle locked around the back of his knee.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, warning bells were going off. He shouldn't. He was flirting with disaster. He should stay away from her. But it was her. She was the only one who did this to him. Just once he would indulge. Maybe he could finally get her out of his mind.

Selina's head spun. His body felt so good under her hands, his breath warm on her neck, kisses blazing a path across her collarbone and back to her mouth. She clutched him close, unwilling to allow any space between them. There was something so familiar, so right about the feel of his lips on hers. The press of his body his body against hers sent a wave of deja vu crashing through her that she couldn't place.

Finally, she though. He overwhelmed her senses. Fire and spark and all-consuming need. This is what it is supposed to be like.

His hands dipped low, slipping beneath the hem of her dress, and caressing their way up her legs.

Yes. This. Her. The primal part of his mind could focus only on these three thoughts.

When her hands started to pull the jacket from his shoulders, he finally came back to reality. His mind was reeling, his body screaming to continue.

"Selina," he panted, his forehead pressed to hers. "Selina, I'm sorry." Bruce tore himself away, and turned to pace angrily.

Seeing the look of hurt on her face, he returned, and pulled her softly into his arms, tucking her head under his chin. "I'm sorry. This isn't right. You don't deserve…" he struggled for words. "Selina, you're wonderful. Too good for…this."

Years of wanting her had almost erupted and would have destroyed him.

Bruce was well aware of what he looked like beneath the tux. Batman had been shot, stabbed, slashed, cut too many times. Scars covered his body. The usual story of a drunken car crash years before wouldn't work on her, for the most distinctive scar he had was four parallel lines above his heart, left by her claws years ago.

But there was more to it than that, he admitted to himself. There was something else between them, something genuine. He liked her. Sure, Batman and Catwoman shared frenzied caresses and fiery kisses on rooftops, but he wanted Bruce and Selina to have more. The physical connection was undeniable, but what Bruce needed to know was whether they could be real people together.

When she pulled away from the embrace just enough to look up at him, Selina watched the emotions flicker across his face. Passion, confusion, shame. He was at war with himself.

Selina furrowed her brow a bit, and cocked her head to the side just so, echoing a posture he had seen a hundred times. She was trying to figure something out. "Bruce…"

"No, Selina. Let me make it up to you." Bruce kissed her cheek and led her back out into the house, his hand clutching hers.

She didn't argue when he escorted her to his waiting car and drove her home.

She wasn't surprised when she awoke the next morning to a bouquet of flowers outside her door.