In Between

BY : EKelly
Category: DC Verse Comics > Justice League
Dragon prints: 15627
Disclaimer: I do not own Justice League, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em – you know the drill.
Rating: NC-17.
Please Feed the Authors!
Review or email comments –


By E Kelly

One night in Bangkok and the world’s your oyster,
The bars are temples but the pearls ain’t free.
You’ll find a god in every golden cloister
And if you’re lucky then the god’s a she,
I can feel an angel sliding up to me…

One night in Bangkok makes a hard man humble,
Not much between despair and ecstasy.
One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble.
Can’t be too careful with your company,
I can feel the devil walking next to me…


Diana had been asked more than once if she found the spotlight uncomfortable. It was one of
the many little ironies of Patriarch’s World. Right after a journalist said, now, just make yourself comfortable, and shined a spotlight in her eyes, they’d ask that question. Then would come the inevitable, ‘but I guess as royalty you’re used to a lot of attention.’ She always had to bite her tongue not to reply curtly that there was no such thing as a ‘celebrity’ among Amazons, nor did they have a twenty-four hour news cycle necessitating the cannibalistic practices of doing exactly what
you’re asking someone if they hate. Instead, she would simply smile pleasantly and reply, “I am an
Ambassador with a message to spread. Being in the spotlight is required, so that is what I do.”

Still, in many ways it took more stamina than battle to stand and smile, chat innocuously and meaninglessly for hours on end, presenting her image and little else. Even for a worthy cause like the International Children’s Fund, she could find it exhausting, a slow build of tension that had nowhere to go. It was good work though, important work, to make these appearances, endure the endless stream of photographers – those pictures would earn donations and feed children here in Thailand. It was good work; she kept repeating it to herself, though she much preferred the release, the fire, the singing joy of combat. Of course, not much could compare to that.

Diana turned a smile to a nervous young man who approached her, waiting patiently while he stammered a greeting and words of admiration. She took his hand and his face went red – men were such odd creatures, she thought, so at the mercy of their bodies. Even among her colleagues, she could see how they occasionally became distracted during briefings, or when she walked by, including the bonded ones. She didn’t hold it against them though. It appeared to be simply a biological weakness unique to men and, while it had taken some getting used to, she merely
accepted it now as a mildly amusing phenomenon.

After watching the young man back up, then turn and disappear into the crowd, she looked about, sighing to herself and briefly rubbing her neck. That was about the hundredth encounter with an admirer she’d had tonight. They gushed, they stared, they even sometimes gave little groans as she moved, but they never propositioned her no matter how they wanted her. Apparently a literal Amazon was somewhat intimidating, and not only to men – she could count the times she had been approached by a woman in Patriarch’s World on one hand, though she knew from the Internet that she was something of a lesbian icon, a fact in which she took a certain amount of pride considering how ridiculous these societies were about such things. It just proved the Greeks understood human nature much better than their cultural descendents.

Her gaze stopped roving the room when it fell on the tall figure of a man standing with his back to her about thirty feet away. By rights she shouldn’t have recognized him in this setting, at that angle – but she did. He turned his head, casually sweeping the crowd it seemed, but his eyes
were headed for her as if he’d felt her gaze on his back. And, knowing him, he had. She saw him take in her presence and make an off-hand remark to the two women he’d been conversing with, then walk away while one of them was in mid-sentence. The woman’s face puckered up, flashed disappointment, then anger, then resignation when she saw who it was that had captured his attention.

Diana watched him approach, her full mouth quirking up at one corner. It wasn’t the first time
they’d been at the same party, but he was normally steadfast in avoiding her in civilian situations, which wasn’t difficult with the size of the benefits they both had reason to be at. So, why was he making a beeline for her now?

He stopped before her and reached for her hand. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure,” he said in a smooth bass voice that sounded at once familiar and strange to her ears, “Princess Diana.” His large hand closed around hers and she had to think for a moment to remember if they had ever touched hands skin to skin before. They had not. “I’m Bruce Wayne. Would you dance with me?”

Diana was keeping her face carefully neutral, but it was a struggle. His demeanor, no, more than
that – the ee see sense of his energy was shockingly different than she was accustomed to. He had run his eyes over her body with a frank and possessive gaze – like a predator, or a conqueror. Why it surprised her that he used his inner nature as part of his cover, she wasn’t sure – it was only
logical that he would. Perhaps it was simply so exotic to see it applied in the sexual field, even knowing it was an act, that she couldn’t quite be sure how to respond.

“All right,” she said after a momentary pause, and let him draw her arm through his. Heads turned
as they walked past, she could hear the whispers of tongues wagging. There was a consensus that it took someone of Bruce Wayne’s cockiness to come on to her so obviously. The man had no shame, apparently. That struck her as funny and she hid a brief smile.

On the dance floor, they faced each other and he took her in his arms without hesitation. Again she
was surprised at herself for being surprised when he led her expertly in a waltz. She was completely familiar with his grace and physical skill – did she really think dancing was beyond him?

“I didn’t expect to see you so far from Gotham,” she said softly, seeking some normalcy to combat the awareness of his hand against her back, one finger touching the bare skin of her spine where the dress dropped low in a V.

“Site visit for the Wayne Foundation. I’m a major supporter of the ICF,” he replied, turning her easily. Their legs brushed in the maneuver. She asked the question with her eyes and sotto voce he replied, “Drug ring in Burma.”

He had kept his eyes focused on her in that disconcerting way and she found she was staring back coolly when he added, “Smile, Princess. I’m seducing you.”

Her delicately arched eyebrows went up, “You are?”

“If you want an excuse to get out of here,” he replied, “which, from the way your shoulders are bunched and the tolerant smile you’ve had on your face for an hour, I’m guessing you do.”

Diana blinked, and then laughed, her tension dropping a notch as she relaxed against his strong arm. “Isn’t that strategy a little elaborate for leaving a party?”

He drew her closer so their bodies were touching full-length and he could speak directly into her ear, “Merely optimizing the situation.” Long hours of combat training together in the Watchtower and countless battles fought side by side kept their movements perfectly in sync so that they glided fluidly across the dance floor, “My reputation requires I leave with someone and leaving with you means I won’t have to deal with ditching a woman tonight.”

“Really?” she said, curious. Curious. Curious that moving with him like this was so different – and so much the same. “I wasn’t aware you generally ‘ditched’ them.”

“I do.”

“Why is that?” Ah, she had managed to catch him by surprise with that question.

But all he said was, “I have my reasons.”

She felt it then, just how much of an act this was for him. The desirous look on his face did not change, his hand on her back continued to move softly along her exposed spine, brushing the ends of her hair, as it had rather distractingly been doing for the last minute. But he was locked back, behind all that.

“So, are you leaving with me or not, Diana?” he asked, and his blue-grey eyes darkened as he held her close, bringing a hand up to slowly draw her hair back over one shoulder, his fingers caressing her skin lightly. “Because I’m ready to go.”

She pictured for a moment what this must do to your average, unsuspecting woman, not knowing who was playing with their mind, even the screen goddesses and princesses of wealth he normally courted. Because if he could make her feel a tremble in her belly when she did know – they must not have a snowball’s chance in Hades of resisting.

“I don’t know, Bruce. You can’t be too careful about the company you keep. It might not do your reputation good to be seen with a self-respecting woman,” she said.

“It will positively cement my legend to be seen leaving with you – and you know it. But if you want to stay –“

“No,” she said quickly as the picture of even one more hour of vapid conversation here formed in her mind. “No. Let’s go.”

He nodded, and without preamble, led her off the floor and through the crowd. Bruce handed a small card to the uniformed boy just outside the hotel’s ballroom doors and he took off to deliver it to the valet. They followed more slowly along the wide veranda and down the steps. Diana felt a remarkable relief to be out of the party, away from all those people. The night was steamy, fragrant with thick tropical scents, the heavy air wrapping around them. A limousine pulled up just as they reached the curb, the valet opening the door for them. Bruce put his hand on her back as
she slid in and she wondered briefly at how aware she was each time he touched her. The door shut and they were enclosed in a luxuriously appointd space of velour and calfskin leather. The windows all around, including the one onto the driver’s seat, were tinted black and so were completely opaque. When the car pulled out, it moved so smoothly it could barely be felt.

“Where are you staying?” Bruce asked, pulling off his cummerbund.

She smiled and stretched a little, “Boston.”

“No. You’re tired. I have a house on the edge of the city,” he was untying his tie with quick dexterity, leaving it dangling to unbutton the collar of his shirt.

“You own a house here?"

“Just a rental.”

“For one night?” her voice was slightly critical of such extravagance. “Do you have something against hotels?”
“Places where staff members can enter your room?” he asked. “Yes, I have something against hotels. They make for poor security.”

“Ah. Of course. It’s really not necessary to put me up though.”

“There’s plenty of room, Diana. You can get some sleep before you fly back.”

“That’s kind of you, Bruce.”

He nodded once and leaned back against the seat, staring past her shoulder. Diana watched his
face, the instant the car door had closed his expression had cleared of all previous influences and was now expressionless, the inscrutable mask with which she was familiar.

“So, why do you ditch them?” she knew she wore an impish little smile as he focused back on her face, “I’d really like to know.”

“Why?” his body remained relaxed and so the question carried none of the intimidation it might have, coming from him. He crossed his arms easily and contemplated her.

“I was thinking, just before I saw you in there, about men, and how uniform they are in their physical response.”

“To you?”

“Not necessarily,” she said. “Homosexual men don’t give me a second glance – but they would
you. It’s still men being led by their physical needs. But it just occurred to me – you’re rather the exception to that rule.” She had turned toward him, bending a leg up and resting her head against her hand with her arm crooked on the back of the seat. “I suppose I thought you just compartmentalized such things – kept your pleasures separate.”

“That my public persona was real?” he asked.

“To a certain degree.”

He took that in thoughtfully but said nothing.

“We don’t always have a lot to go on with you,” she said by way of explanation, giving a small shrug.

“No. You don’t.” She thought he was almost smiling and it annoyed her, how smug he could be.

“So – is it simply that you have no interest in sex?” she asked with innocent curiosity.

She thought for one second that she had nailed him, because he sat still and silent, his eyes fixed on her. Then Diana felt a bolt of electricity shoot through her body, for he reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a deepening V of hard sculpted muscle. He pulled the shirt and jacket back over his massive shoulders, exposing most of his torso. The finest statues of ancient Greece had never captured male beauty like this, real flesh, the wide planes of his pectorals rising with his breath, dark hair glistening in the low light as it trailed down his hard stomach. No statue showed this battle-scarred flesh either, the perfectly formed muscles slashed and ridged by raised tissue, puckered circles from bullets marking his shoulders and biceps. He pulled the material back up, straightening the jacket collar.

“That would be a little hard to explain to anyone I might bed as Bruce Wayne,” he said as he refastened buttons.

It was as if he had thrown down a gauntlet, for Diana smelled the sharp scent of combat in the air.
She would always wonder later whether it had been intentional or not. All she knew in the moment though, was that her blood was singing in her ears and she felt as if a live current was flowing from her eyes as she looked at him. His hand stilled halfway up his shirt when she reached over and
laid her fingertips on a four-inch healed gash that arced high on his chest almost to his collarbone.

“I forget,” her voice was low as she traced the line across his skin. “You say it constantly to remind us, but it seems just words since you behave as if you were indestructible.”

Their eyes met, both lifting at the same moment from where she touched him and she let hers laugh – for battle with him, she knew, was won only by strategy.

“Do I?” he asked, raising his hands to the next button and her fingers brushed them as she drew back. His voice had roughened and deepened, taking a timbre she was used to hearing in it.

“Bruce,” she said, shaking her head, “always dissembling. Must keep your aura of dark mystery at all costs.”

“It’s a living,” he said.

She crossed her arms, knowing the gesture tightened the material dropping low over her breasts. “I suppose that depends on your definition of living.”

His eyes gleamed, one eyebrow twitching infinitesimally, his gaze never wavering from her eyes. “Don’t knock my aura of dark mystery. It definitely has its uses.”

“Yes, yes,” she sounded amused, “striking terror into the hearts of evildoers.”

The car had slowed after a turn and now glided to a stop. Bruce put his hand on the door and as he opened it, said mildly, “I can do other things with it too.”

He stood outside the car as she slid over and he reached for her hand, drawing her out. When she
straightened they were standing face to face. For the briefest instant she saw his eyes flicker down to her lips before he released her hand and stepped back to shut the door. The limo purred softly off down the curved driveway into a night pulsing with the buzz of insects in the dense trees. They stood before a low villa roofed in exquisite Siamese peaks and embraced by jungle. He turned and waited for her to precede him along the stone path to the front door.

Inside, Diana gazed around the spacious sunken living room and open kitchen off to one side. The
furniture was sparse – large silk-covered cushions of intricate oriental embroidery adorned the floor instead of chairs before a long low futon couch with a set of small black lacquered tables ranged around. Bruce hit a switch on the wall and recessed lamps cast a muted glow over the room.

“There should be food and drink in the kitchen, have whatever you want.” he said.

“I will, thank you,” she replied with a small smile, brushing past him and stepping down towards the couch.

“Pick a room, make yourself comfortable,” he passed briskly along the edge of the room and entered the first door in the hallway, shutting it behind him.

Diana sat on the couch, bending to unlace her sandals from her calves. Across the wide living room
from the sofa were floor to ceiling glass doors that looked onto a large, low-walled garden. Releasing her feet from the shoes, she dug her toes into the rich, thick carpet for a moment, then
rose and went to the glass panel, sliding it back, exiting into the hot night. Perfumes of exotic flowers and fruits adorned the close darkness through which she passed, and she could feel the
humid air everywhere on her skin.

At any moment she expected him to appear behind her in that infuriating way he had of simply materializing, even near super-senses. And at the same time she would not be the slightest bit surprised if he did not. He could already be in his bed, asleep, easily ignoring, or possibly even truly unaware of, the heated impulse beating the air tonight. She felt a frustration, deeply irritating, at his so terribly deliberate inscrutability.

Sighing softly, she turned – and he was there. In his element in the darkness he seemed at
once more at ease, and more dangerous. He was silent and she said nothing for a long moment either.

Finally Diana raised her eyebrows expectantly and said, “Yes?”

A frown crossed his face and he looked at her questioningly.

“Well, I know you didn’t just come out here for a pleasant chat before turning in, so there must be something you needed to tell me.”

“Believe it or not,” he replied, “I don’t want to be a poor host.”

The corners of her mouth tucked into a smile but her eyes were sharp and challenging, “I don’t believe it.”

Standing there in a tuxedo sans jacket he could have been in full battle gear, drawing the black cape around himself, seeming to loom up without moving – a gesture she was familiar with, his
there’s-no-defense-like-a-good-offense reaction.

“And I don’t suppose I can blame you,” he said, his eyes as blank as the white slits she was used to seeing above his mouth.

But Diana only laughed, a soft, musical sound, and shook her head, “There you go again – making things so complicated.”

“Most things are complicated.”

“No,” she said lightly, dismissively, “Most things are really quite simple. It’s just you that’s complicated.”

There were few experiences in the world like standing under Batman’s stare. She felt again the
surge of battle instinct, the tightening in her legs, in the small of her back. Somewhere disconnected from her honed focus on the contest at hand she heard a whisper that told her this had
been coming for a long time.

Slowly, his eyebrow went up and, slipping his hands into his pockets he moved easily around her. She turned with him, watching his face. He stopped near the low wall, looking at her.

“Remind me, Princess, how you came to be Ambassador of Themyscira.”

“Touche,” she laughed, while her mind muttered – insufferable bastard. “But we’re not talking about me. We’re talking about your least favorite subject – you.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and she felt him about to hit back, saw the decision in his eyes to shut her down. Before he could she reached up and slipped a hand into the hair above her forehead, raking it back, drawing it slowly over her shoulder and letting the heavy raven tresses spill from her fingers while her eyes rolled down his body like beads of sweat.

When she lifted her gaze, his eyes had changed, where black ice had greeted her before, she now saw the flicker of black fire, banked, smoldering, but there, and her teeth caught the edge of her bottom lip.

“One question,” he said in his rough, deep voice.

Her wide blue eyes shone with amusement, “Anything?”

He nodded, “Take your best shot.”

“Who could resist an opening like that?” she said softly, drifting closer to him. She caught him
looking at her mouth again, but this time his eyes were leisurely about returning to hers.

“We’ve been colleagues for some time, Bruce – and there are ways in which I consider you the most respected of such,” she was contemplating his face closely, the chiseled, often seemingly immobile planes, the humorless line of his mouth, lips always far too sensual for the orders barked from them. His eyes, so hard but so hungry – driven, some called him, but even obsessed wasn’t a word to do justice to his will and his need.

She went on, “That respect has less to do with your skill than with the fact that you, more than any of the rest, are a born warrior. So there is much I understand instinctively about you.”

His eyes glinted appreciation of those traits they shared.

“But of course,” her voice had gone low and slightly husky and the short distance between them seemed to be collapsing by degrees, “there are many things I don’t know about you. So if you, as the gracious host,” and she laughed at him softly, enjoying that she could actually see the stoic squirm a bit, “are granting me one question to pry behind your formidable mask – I’d have to go with the one I asked earlier and you so cleverly deflected. Are you simply not interested in sex?”

“I told you – “

She cut him off, “You told me why it’s… complicated,” she said the word in a halfway exasperated tone, “for Bruce Wayne. But – there is a simple solution for that. You could always take your
pleasures as Batman.”

“There aren’t many women I can take the mask off with,” he countered, lowering his arms to his sides and her gaze followed his large hands.

She raised her eyes, having to tilt her head slightly. Staring into his shadowed eyes, she ran the
tip of her tongue over her lips, then stepped back, slipping around him, turning to lean back on the low wall.

“So leave the mask on,” she said with a sly grin.

“I’m not that kinky.”

He said it with such a perfect lack of expression that she laughed. Then she flashed on one of
GL’s more memorable Batman impressions and had to cover her mouth to stifle the merry peals.

His eyes narrowed, ”And yes, I’m aware of Kyle’s speculations. As vivid as Mr. Raynor’s word portraits of me at the feet of a stiletto heeled dominatrix are, I can assure you that’s not the case.”

Diana didn’t try to banish her wide smile though she got the aftershock giggles under control. “Well,
you do fit the psychology,” she prodded, her eyes still dancing. “Extremely controlled personality spawning a need to let someone else be on top so you can lose control.”

“I’m aware of the theory,” he said. “But it doesn’t apply to me.”

“Why not?”

Bruce was standing over her without her having any real sense that he had moved, looking down at her, radiating a dark force that quickened her breath. “Because I don’t lose control, Princess.”

Slowly Diana stood straight and it brought them a bare inch from each other. Their eyes clashed
ike two blue blades, striking sparks as they slid down each other to lock at their hilts. “Why do you call me that?” she asked.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious.”

“You seem unusually curious about me tonight, Princess.”

“That’s because I’ve never seen you like this.” She drew in a slow breath, his scent so strong, and she could feel the heat issuing from his body.

“Like what?” Still, despite his responses, he was immovable.

“Inbetween. Outside a structure. It makes me wonder,” the pulsing rhythm of the cicadas throbbing the air swelled for a moment then dropped low like the drums of savages beating in the distance. “What happens with Batman when there are no rules to follow?”

“Then that’s the question you should have asked,” he said, but his neck had bent fractionally and Diana lifted her lips to hover, full and inviting, centimeters away.

“I knew I wouldn’t have to,” she breathed.

Their mouths caught, softly, and their bodies melted together, his thick arms against her back, her fingers sliding through his hair. Tasting slowly with a teasing tongue, he explored her lips, then kissed her deeply, his hands spread against her back pressing her tightly against his hard body. She ran her hands hungrily over his shoulders, down his arms, across the wide expanse of his back.

His hands tangled in her hair, cupped the back of her head so he could kiss her harder. She drew his bottom lip between hers; he opened her mouth with his tongue. They fed on each other, held in the sultry darkness.

At last he drew back, his hand still caressing her neck under her hair. She looked up, moving
subtly against him, not allowing the embrace to be broken.

“There are always rules, Diana,” he said.

“Of course there are,” she replied softly. She couldn’t take her eyes off the hollow of his throat and the skin of his chest sinking into the shadows of his shirt, wanting to taste him there. “But don’t
apply the wrong rules to the right situation. Think of Sparta, Bruce. To be a soldier was a way of life for men and women. They did not ever marry. Do you know why?”

“Yes.” His low voice quoted in perfectly accented Greek, “For the warrior is apart, of a different
fiber, a different life.”

Her eyes flicked up and she smiled, “Parosthenes. Battle breeds its own demands. We know this. It is foolish to deny life, when you have to say every night, ‘For tomorrow –‘ “

“We may die,” he finished. Softly his finger stroked her jaw, then ran lightly over her lips.

She tightened her arms around his neck, whispering, “Warrior – “

“To warrior,” his words were almost a growl, cut off when their mouths sealed against each other, heated, wet and ravenous.

He lifted her easily into his arms, swiftly carrying her into the house. By the time her feet slipped back to the floor, his quick hands had unfastened her dress so that it slid silkily down her body to pool at her ankles, and she kicked it to the side. Still kissing slowly, lingeringly, she raised her hands to unbutton his shirt as his fingers trailed up the sides of her hips, then across the satiny flesh of her back.

He released her so she could push the shirt over his shoulders to slide down his arms. Bruce
gazed down to drink in the sight of her indescribable beauty. Diana laid her hand on his chest and drew it down with agonizing slowness; her fingers playing over the ridges of his muscles, until they came to rest at his pants’ zipper. His breath had deepened and he dipped his head to kiss her again while she opened the material and eased it down his hips.

Roughened palms slid from her shoulders to wrap around her waist, gripping and lifting. She tucked
her legs around him as he lowered them both to the floor. Diana held him close above her, raising her mouth to kiss and lick down his neck, trailing her tongue across his chest, tasting and sucking softly. She heard him groan, very low and she smiled against his skin.

He laid her back gently, raising himself above her and she looked up at him, tracing patterns over his hips and buttocks with her fingers. His face was shadowed and she felt herself tightening between her legs, riding the tension he was letting build. She urged him with her eyes but
he remained immobile, his expression unreadable. The rest of his body wasn’t though. His sex was rearing, hard, heavy and pulsing just above her. She lifted her hips, brushing the head with
the silky flesh of her belly, but he would not be rushed and edged back.

Laying a palm flat on her taut stomach, he said, “Wait, Diana.” His hand slid up, brushing around her breast and his thumb rolled her nipple. She arched, bringing her knees up to clasp his hips, gripping his buttocks tightly. He merely continued his light stimulation, caressing the trembling soft mounds, plucking at the pink buds until she was gasping and writhing sensuously beneath him, and then his head dove, his hot tongue circled one nipple, then the other. Raking her nails up his back, she hooked her legs around his waist and pressed up, trapping his throbbing cock against her moist, sensitive flesh. She laughed softly, joyfully, when she heard him growl deep in his throat and felt his teeth chatter around her nipple. He raised himself quickly to feed on her full lips, then his mouth traveled a torturous route down her body.

Lifting one thigh over his shoulder, he licked the silken strip of inner skin down to her knee and back up the other leg. Tracing the outer edges of the triangle of dark curls lightly with his fingers, he gently parted her lips exposing the pink inner folds of pulsing flesh. He kissed her deeply, hands sliding underneath her to cup her buttocks, lift her as he suckled the swelling bud and she gasped her pleasure, her hands gripping his shoulders. His tongue was subtle, ruthless, driving her higher, relentlessly higher. And then he stopped.

He set scorching kisses across her stomach and she caught his face in her hands, started to draw him up but he wrapped his fingers around her wrists, pinning her arms at her sides.

“Don’t,” her voice was heavy, husky with desire, “try to keep me from what I want, Bruce.” She turned her hands under his, gripping his arms. “You can’t win,” and she tugged him up and inch.

Slowly, his eyebrow arched. “Strength isn’t everything, Diana,” he said, and he dropped his head
low, catching her clit between his teeth, whipping his tongue across it. She cried out, spasming in pleasure and before she could think, he had turned her onto her stomach, licking wetly up
her spine, spilling her thick hair above her shoulders, around her face, so he could kiss and suck at the back of her neck. Then his arms wrapped around her and he lifted them both up to their
knees. She reached back, turning her head, mouth open, seeking his. His lips closed over hers, tongues probing. She could taste herself on his lips and her body quivered as his big hands massaged her breasts, slid down between her legs, teasing her further with skillful fingers.

She could feel his cock against her buttocks, burning her skin like a bar of superheated iron.
When she could stand it no longer, Diana turned, swiftly pushing him onto his back and attacking him with her mouth, suckling on his tongue as her hands ran over his body. She kissed along his jaw to his neck, catching an earlobe between her teeth and letting it pull out slowly. Licking down his neck, sucking along his bulging shoulders, swirling her tongue across his broad chest. She flicked his nipples, trailed wet kisses down his hard stomach. His hands stroked her back, lost themselves in her hair, drawing the silken mass up to spill over his chest. Her ravenous lips moved lower, skirted to his hip bone. She bit lightly down to his thigh, and licked hungrily along the inside
of his leg. Turning her head, open-mouthed, she breathed hot, moist breath up his twitching member. Two could play the waiting game, and she hovered over him, licking her lips, raising her eyes along his body to meet his. Her smile was soft, sultry and wicked. She pushed her hair up and
shaking her head slowly, swirled it over his stomach, then down, sliding teasingly over his thick cock. His breath caught when she swept her hair back and he groaned loudly as it whipped
across his throbbing flesh, then her tongue licked satiny fire from the base to the tip of his shaft. His hands digging into the carpet, spasmed, then gripped her back and neck. She engulfed him in her hot mouth, reveling in his taste, his musk scent, his passionate reactions. Her own burning need slammed back into her awareness and she suckled him strongly for a moment before diving back up to his mouth.

Sealed together, they rolled, hands moving, urgent, hungry. She felt his thick sex slide
down her clit and, shivering, wrapped her legs around his hips. He looked down at her, she felt her nipples burning against his rock hard chest, the pounding of their hearts shaking through their bodies and they thrust as one, mouths coming together, moaning with the same breath. Diana felt wave after wave of searing pleasure as they plunged and rolled. She arched above him and he came up to catch a shuddering breast with his lips as his hands dug into her buttocks and his
hips thrust powerfully, seeking her depths. He was driving explosions of breath from her body and she tightened her arms around his sweat-slicked shoulders. Their rhythm climbed to higher pitches of intensity and he turned her onto her back again, taking her mouth fiercely. The strokes of their bodies parting and coming together grew longer and harder, locked in the primal combat, senses stretched to the limit, flesh pounding with rushing blood.

Diana’s head flung back, her body arching high, her voice raw as she cried out. Bruce’s lips were
at her neck, his massive body thrusting against her again, and again and again, drawing out her climax before he shuddered, baring his teeth against her skin, his clenching fingers woven in her hair. Her body continued to quiver through the long, slow kisses that followed.

At last their breathing quieted. She pillowed her head on his chest, eyes closed, while he slowly
smoother her wildly tousled hair, stroking it away from her neck. The cooling sweat on her back warred with the heat of his skin against the front of her body. A heavy exhaustion played against the aching pleasure lingering in her limbs. It was sweet. It was sharp. It was victory.

They slept.

* * * * *
An insistent, penetrating beeping interrupted Diana’s peace – the JLA alert. As she turned over,
seeking her discarded dress while trying to shake off sleep, Bruce had already risen to his feet and exited into the bedroom. She snagged the dress and dug through its folds until she found the

“Wonder Woman,” she said.

Superman’s voice came through, “Emergency, Diana. We’re picking up a fleet of alien ships –
armed to the teeth – approaching earth.”

“I’m in Thailand,” she said, standing and stepping in the dress. “I’ll have to get back to my
teleporter – what’s the time frame?”

“They’re four hours outside the solar system.”

“I’ll be at the Watchtower in two,” pulling the straps up her shoulders, she reached for the zipper.
Bruce emerged from the other room, fastening the black tunic at his neck, cape and cowl over one arm, belt slung over his shoulder.

“We’re having trouble raising Batman,” Superman said. “Nightwing reports he’s in Burma. Do you think you can locate him?”

Diana looked at Bruce, who was placing the belt around his waist. “I’ll see if I can track him

Kyle’s voice broke in, “Don’t let him give you any of that Gotham crap, Di. If he’s got time to
play around over there, he can come help with this.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him you said so,” she could barely hide the laughter in her voice for Bruce had crossed his arms and leveled a brutal stare at the comm.

“Uh, that’s a negative, Wonder Woman. He’ll kick my ass.”

“Not until after the situation is under control, Lantern,” he growled into the comm imbedded in his glove. “This is Batman. I’ve been… monitoring. Will rendezvous with Wonder Woman. Out.”

Diana could hear muttering in the background – they still couldn’t locate the origin of his comm signal and there was a sound that had to be Kyle banging his head against the desk. “We’ll be underway in five minutes,” she said quickly and shut the comm off, laughing freely for a moment, shaking her head at Bruce. “You really shouldn’t torture him like that.”

He swept the cape around his shoulders and, without expression, replied, “It’s fun.” Then he pulled the mask over his face. They moved in tandem to the door, exiting into the misty predawn light.

“Well, that’s two things I didn’t know you enjoyed doing,” Diana said with a grin. “And I was
right. You do keep your pleasures separate.”

“I keep my pleasures private, Princess,” he said pointedly.

“I won’t kiss and tell if you won’t. I have a reputation to protect too.”

Bruce winced slightly as they faced each other, linking arms in preparation for flight. “And I was
so nice to you last night,” he said mildly. “Letting you think it was all your idea.”

Diana laughed, “Tell yourself that if you need to.” She pressed against him, moving sensuously, “I had you eating out of my hand.”

Unbelieving she saw the corner of his mouth crook into a positively evil smile, “I said right up front I
was seducing you.”

Her eyes narrowed. Great Hera, she thought, he did. For a moment she wasn’t sure whether to pound him or scream or just leave him there – and finally she had to laugh. Her blue eyes were bright as she gazed up at him, “You are a formidable opponent, Batman.”

“As are you, Princess. Here’s to battling in between.”


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