Mornings

I hate mornings.

In that brief flickering moment as wakefulness begins, life almost seems normal for me…almost. I'm actually happy and whole for that one blissful moment before realization fully sinks in and I remember what my life is actually like.

In that handful of seconds where the lines between conscious awareness and slumbering oblivion are still pleasantly blurred, I temporarily forget that my parents are dead, that my life is empty, and my heart fragmented…that I'm nothing more than a distant echo of the person that I used to be.

Then it hits me as sure and as painful as Darkseid's fist, stealing the breath from my lungs just like the countless nightmares and dreams that always invade my sleep. My sole companion in life is loneliness and the well of anger that consumes me. Happiness and love are things that remains beyond my grasp. Some of it is my own doing, my own decision.

I draw in a breath as I once again feel awareness slowly creep up on me along with the warmth of the morning's rays spilling across my bed. Laying on my stomach, I burrow my head deeper into my pillow that I'm hugging, not ready to move let alone be awake. My body is tired and sore but in the best imaginable way possible. It's the most amazing way to wake in the morning.

I slowly open my eyes, my sleepy gaze falling on the woman sleeping next to me. I've woken to the face of many women in my bed, but not one of them could ever come close to comparing to the one sleeping next to me now. The women that litter my past are like flickering candle flames in the wind while she is like the most blinding sunrise.

I breathe deeply again, savoring her intoxicating scent that permeates my bedroom, mingling with the scent of the passionate intimacy that we shared last night. It's a thrilling scent that causes my heart to race again. I never would have dreamed that someone like her would even find me worth her time or notice and yet she sees something in me that I never knew existed.

This amazing woman has given me far more in the last three years of knowing her than I could ever hope to give her in a whole lifetime. She'll never know how she has touched my life, gathering up all the broken parts of me and gradually putting them back together again one by one.

She shifts subtly in her sleep making my fingers itch to leave the warmth of their current state hidden beneath my pillow to brush aside the raven lock of hair that has fallen across her brow, but I don't want to wake her just yet. I love the peaceful expression that lights her beautiful face as she sleeps, the even rhythm of her breathing.

Being near her always creates a sense of tranquility in me that has evaded me since I was an eight-year-old boy. No one has ever been able to do that for me. Not any of the women I've been with, none of my sidekicks or the countless people who have passed through my life. No one. Not even Alfred.

While Alfred has always been the ship keeping me afloat all these years, Diana has become my anchor.

She softly murmurs my name in her sleep and it causes the corners of my lips to curl in response. I love the sound of my name on her lips whether it's yelled in anger in the middle of a fight or a throaty gasp uttered in the midst of a heated release.

She snuggles closer to me as if suddenly missing the warmth of my body. She presses her nude form against me, releasing a contented sigh as she finds me. She makes me want her all over again, to wake her up and cover her with my body, pinning her to the mattress and making her mine once more.

The urge to touch her becomes too strong to fight any longer. I can't wait to run my fingers through her hair and explore her body all over again. I reach out to pull the offending lock of hair out of her face. She burrows further into my side with another murmur of my name and suddenly find myself growing aroused.

I lean over and press my lips against her forehead, her eyelids, her nose before finding her mouth. She slowly begins to respond to me, her lips returning the love that I'm expressing to her. I shift my position, moving over her as I deepen the kiss.

Her arms slip around my neck as I allow my weight to settle over her, our legs tangling as passion takes hold of us once more. I feel a burning need deep inside of me, one that is so intense that I can't begin to fight against it. I've wanted this with her for so very long, dreamed of having her in my bed and in my life. Now that she's finally here, I'm going to take full advantage of every moment spent with her, making her mine and keeping her in my life until my last breath.

She readily welcomes me inside, wrapping her long legs around my waist in an unspoken plea for more of me. I willingly give her all that I have, feeling as though it could never be enough. This woman deserves far more than I could ever hope to give her.

Despite my immense wealth and notoriety, I feel as though I'm nothing more than a pauper in the presence of a princess. She has no need for anything that I could ever begin to offer her, no need for my wealth or anything that I could buy her.

She only asks for my heart despite the sorry state that it is in as well as a portion of my time, never demanding more than I can offer her. She is never jealous of my mistress, the other love of my life—my beloved city. No one but her truly understands my commitment and my need to protect Gotham. Despite the fact that it took my parents from me, it is still my home and I will protect it with my life.

Diana rolls me over onto my back as we make love, her ebony hair like a silky waterfall all around me as I moan her name. I thread my fingers through her hair, my tongue in a fierce battle with hers for ultimate control that I'll happily surrender to her at this moment. Pleasure shoots like lightning through my veins as she grinds her hips against mine. I squeeze my eyes closed, my chest rising with the intense crescendo inside of me.

I abruptly flip her onto her back, taking control once more. I find the perfect rhythm that has her moaning my name like a prayerful chant, a breathless lyric that makes my head spin and my heart race and I know that I will never love another woman.

"I love you…Bruce…" she gasps the profession that strikes a cord deep inside of him that resonates with hers as I confess my love for my princess as well.

Her skin is soft as velvet, her eyes the bluest that I've ever seen. She seeks to draw me and drown me in them as we build towards our mutual climax together. I have been so lost since my parents were taken from me, but with her I'm found…I'm home and I'm alive and the world is full of color and I can finally breathe again. I readily decide that I love mornings and I never want this to ever end.

I open my eyes with a sharp gasp, lunging forward in my bed. I rapidly look about, chest heaving and body throbbing with overwhelming need. I angrily growl in frustration, slamming my fist into my pillow. Breathing heavily, I scrub my face with trembling hands in an effort to diffuse the arousal pumping through my veins. My heart is hammering, my body in a painful state and in need of the release that has been denied me.

I flop back against my pillows as I glance over at the other side of my bed, staring despondently at the cold emptiness…the rumpled sheets and pillows. She should be right here with me, not in her quarters on the Watchtower, but this is all my doing…my choice. I'm the one who refuses to allow us to have what we both so desperately want.

But I can't have that dream no matter how badly I want it…how desperately I want her.

I've allowed my fear of hurting her and losing her to have a strangle-hold on my heart, locking me in a lonely prison of my own making. If I let her in, then I will extinguish her radiance. I cannot afford to let her light disperse my darkness or Batman will forever be lost. I cannot allow that to happen despite how painful keeping my distance from her has been.

I love her…I want her more than anything, but how can I knowingly drag her into my gruesome world, smothering her light and crushing her spirit? How can I subject her to the psychotic machinations of someone like the Joker or risk her being infected by Scarecrow's fear toxin?

The thought alone causes me to shudder uncontrollably, knots of panic rising up my throat. I throw my tangled covers off me before moving to sit on the edge of the bed. I lean forward to hold my head in my hands, my elbows coming to rest on my knees.

I stay in this position for a long time, struggling to regain some sort of control over my raging heart and the overwhelming desire to go up to her quarters and finally make her mine. I rake my fingers through my sweaty hair, tightly gripping the strands in overt frustration. I can't keep going on like this, caught in a struggle between what I want and what I know I have to do. Something has got to give before I lose my mind.

Unfortunately, my decision to avoid her is not the answer that either of us truly wants, but it has to be this way. I will not lose her because of my selfish desire to have her in my bed, to make a life and a family with her.

Allowing my arms to fall to my sides once more, I release a ragged breath as I use my hands to push myself up off my bed. I stand to my feet and slowly make my way to my bathroom to start my day and I remember all over again why I hate mornings.