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The Interloper	By : HeyBats Category: DC Verse Cartoons > Justice League Views: 11547 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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.

Chapter List
- 1-The Interloper
- 1
The Interloper

Diana awoke with a start. Normally a heavy sleeper who enjoyed at least seven hours of uninterrupted slumber, her emerging relationship with Bruce had forced a change of habit. She still managed to get the same amount of sleep as she did before they’d started dating, only now it was fitfully interrupted by his late arrivals, her paranoia about the increasing ferocity of Gotham’s latest super-criminals and worst of all, his nightmares.

She’d realized after dating him for a month (and suffering a number of setbacks that would have derailed most relationships) that if she wanted to have a real relationship with him, she would have to follow his schedule. It wasn’t that she was interested in assuming a subservient role, but she knew the demands on Bruce Wayne’s dual life often meant that he had little, if any, free time for a relationship. While Diana’s upbringing on Themyscira made her fiercely independent, that same background had also endowed her with an incredibly strong will. Strong enough to put up with all of his issues. Strong enough to sacrifice some of her Amazonian pride in order to try to love him. She knew, too, that in his own odd way he loved her. While it wasn’t the same hot passion Hercules had once used to win over her mother, Diana wasn’t so naïve to not realize that all relationships had their individual nuances.

Still, as a Princess long accustomed to having most of her whims satisfied by a royal staff, it was natural to be demanding of his time. But there weren’t many opportunities to command his attention. Gotham City served as Batman’s primary responsibility; the League a distant second. Their status as members of the League’s Inner Council meant they crossed paths at the Watchtower a few times a week. Despite the fact that everyone on the Watchtower knew she was regularly staying at the Manor, he wasn’t given to public displays of affection at these meetings. Bruce Wayne’s public persona also required that he make public appearances a few times a week. Numerous charity functions, art auctions and fashion shows also pressed for his time along with his duties as WayneTech’s Chairman. Combined with the requirements of training junior members of the Batclan and maintaining his own physical condition in peak form, the only free time he allowed himself was the less than four hours of sleep he managed per night. After a number of setbacks, those precious four hours were all they had as a couple.

After Diana had patiently worn him down until he’d finally admitted one night in her Watchtower quarters that a relationship between them ‘wasn’t impossible’ (a major admission from Batman), Diana had wrongly presumed she could compete with Gotham for his time.

During the first few weeks of dating, Diana had arrived at the Manor for a series of pre-arranged dinners Alfred had cooked up in order for the two of them to spend some romantic, one-on-one quality time.

The dates were an unparalleled disaster.

It wasn’t the food or the company. They were very comfortable with each other, especially during the long bouts of silences Bruce seemed to prefer over idle chatter. On rare occasions, he would make an extra effort to explore topics not involving the League’s latest battles or the latest Arkham escapee. For her part, Diana didn’t mind the long silences, reasoning her attraction to his brooding was part of the reason why she was here in the first place. Another part being Alfred’s cooking, rivaling any five-star restaurant in Gotham.

Rather, Bruce’s constant preoccupation with his responsibilities finally drove Diana to surrender to the inevitable. Of the five formal dinner-dates they’d attempted, she finished four of them perched next to Alfred at the kitchen counter while Bruce would don the guise of the Bat to respond to the latest crisis in Gotham.

The Amazon in her demanded that if he couldn’t properly romance her at dinner, she would instead accompany him every night, ridding Gotham of crime courtesy of her meta-powers. She reasoned that her powers would have an added benefit of reducing his patrols from six hours to a more manageable two. The woman scorned in her demanded that he give more of himself if he wanted her as a mate. So, with Alfred’s help, Diana had put together a black costume that incorporated her signature lasso hanging from the hip.

It was also a disaster.

To function as Batman, Bruce had honed his senses to a razor’s sharpness. His methods were his own. Any attempt on the part of his subordinates to change those methods was dealt with quickly, usually by showing them the door. As a warrior trained with the fierce nature of the Amazons, Diana was naturally inclined to rush head-first into each situation, subduing opponents by brute force. Her methods were effective, but short-sighted in their approach. They’d returned from their first patrol together in heavy silence, their second in outright disagreement.

Perplexed that they could be a well-oiled, crime fighting machine in the League but a dysfunctional duo in Gotham, the compassionate part of her decided to bide her time and wait, rationalizing that the only real gift she could provide to him would be a reduction of the stress in his over-stressed life. That morning, she left her Batwoman costume in a box at his chair with a note telling him that their future happiness did not include a crime-fighting partnership.

At the same time, realizing the formal dates were providing more stress than relief, she slowly scaled back their frequency. She became content to share sandwiches in the Cave, listening with rapt fascination as he analyzed the latest criminal trends in both Gotham and against the League. She became a regular sounding board during these sessions, probing for weaknesses in his theories when she could tell he wasn’t convinced of his conclusions. She reasoned the Cave was where he felt most comfortable, so that would have to be their refuge. While he still had no interest in her tagging along on patrol, Batman made no protest when he found her sitting at his computer one night, connecting a series of apparently unrelated crimes which she proved were related to a new gang’s attempt to expand its turf near Hell’s Gate.

She resolved to spend at least four nights a week with him, which usually meant sleeping in the same bed for the few hours he allowed himself each night. He typically patrolled Gotham from nine in the evening until two o’clock in the morning. He’d return to the Cave, log his records and evidence into the crime-computer, then shower, finally settling into bed around three in the morning.

Diana knew the life. She understood her desires would have to take a backseat to its demands. But she never realized that she’d be sitting in the folding seat of a station wagon, facing backwards.

Diana had her own life to lead, however, and while she still would occasionally sneak down to the Cave in the midnight hours to open League-related files or help Oracle filter through some evidence via data-link, within a few months she resumed her normal routine of going to bed between eleven and eleven-thirty. She would sleep fitfully until his return at three, sometimes waking up to knead his injuries, sometimes to make love to him, sometimes not waking up fully but still coherent enough to ensure that he’d made it through one more patrol unscathed before contentedly slipping back to sleep.

While Bruce was reluctant to display any kind of emotions (she’d once noted to Dinah Lance that Bruce could probably write the book on non-verbal communication), she could tell by his body language he was relieved to come home to a warm and welcoming bed. Diana felt the tension ebb from his body each time he sidled up next to her in bed,their naked bodies pressed together. It seemed comfortable for him, verging on perfection for Batman; four hours of intimacy, most of which was unbroken silence only disturbed by mind-blowing sex when the morning sun burned through the drapes. As their comfort with each other grew, Diana started sleeping through his return from patrol, opting instead to wake him up in the morning.

The hardest part of sleeping with Bruce was the nightmares. Once pressed against her, he only took a few minutes to fall asleep. REM sleep would start an hour later, usually around four-thirty. The first time she’d stayed over at the Manor, snuggled tightly against his naked form, Diana had awoken with her system flushed with adrenaline. Unknowingly, her warrior instincts, sharpened by centuries of training, had instantly alerted to his violent thrashes =. While he wasn’t aware of his actions, Diana reacted as a warrior, responding to his primitive, chemical releases of nightmare-fueled aggression by springing out of bed, looking for an attacker. He was wracked with the nightmare of his parents’ death at least twice a week, sometimes more. First taking a moment to calm her own warrior instincts, she’d then been able to soothe him, quietly holding him in her arms while whispering words of comfort that turned his disquieting nightmare into a tolerable dream.

It was this in which she found her calling, this in which she carved out her own nook in his life. Whatever warm comfort she could provide to him, she gladly gave. As she held him the first time, soothing him from the nightmares, Diana realized forlornly that there was little choice. Bruce left little of himself for her in the waking hours. He’d forsaken her as a crime-fighting partner, unable to compromise in his methods. She couldn’t be part of his regular social activities without risk of betraying his identity. He really had nothing to offer her other than this small part of himself; the wounded warrior who relived the nightmares of an eight-year old boy. For a mortal man already stretched to the point of breaking, it was her gift to tend to his wounded psyche every night, replenishing his battered dreams with words of hope.

It wasn’t the only gift she gave him.

During her second week in the Manor as his sleeping partner, having abandoned her other attempts to inure herself into his life, she watched him asleep and comfortable for the first time since she’d known him. Free of the sturm and drang that fueled his obsessions, Diana observed him in awe. She settled her head on his chest, intently listening to the rhythm of his breathing. Her eyes swept over the handsome features, dominated by his strong chin and chiseled cheekbones he’d received from his father, combined with the soft mouth and angular nose of his mother. It was during these times that Diana would marvel at his accomplishments. She had a hard time rectifying the image of his peaceful, sleeping visage with his words and actions during pitched battles; his courage in confronting the most daunting of enemies; the confidence he could infuse in even the most powerful members of the League whenever they doubted their own abilities.

As she marveled over him, Diana realized with a startled gasp that she’d become aroused. The hardened points on her chest and slick folds of her sex suddenly begged for attention. Each time Diana loved him, she’d become more familiar with the ache that required an outlet, a source of release. Staring at the prone figure of her boyfriend now sleeping easily on his back, she pursed her lips ruefully. Knowing he was already taxed to the limits of his endurance, it really wasn’t fair to Bruce to rouse him for sex.

Sighing with frustration, she contented herself to drape her leg over his, pressing her breasts against his ribcage. Even in the dark light of his bedroom, she could see the faint outline of a four-inch scar running laterally across his left pectoral muscle. It ended just above his nipple. She couldn’t resist tracing the outline of the scar with her fingertips. His scars were such a prominent part of him; each one reflected the sacrifices Bruce Wayne made for his city. Like him, they were beautiful.

Finished tracing the scar, her fingertips gently grazed over his nipple. She allowed herself a small chuckle as it puckered slightly at her touch. Growing up on Themyscira, Diana had never realized that the male nipple was an erogenous zone. It was only by chance a few weeks before when she had been kissing the entirety of his body that she’d experienced his reaction first-hand.

Delicately tracing his nipple until it hardened, Diana’s attention was suddenly distracted by a faint movement against her leg. Shifting slightly, she grinned wickedly when she realized that his body was subconsciously reacting to her stimulus. Diana lifted her head up off his chest, migrating southwards a few inches until her head was resting on his stomach.

His penis stared at her. At least, she laughed to herself, she felt like it was using its one eye to stare at her accusingly, mocking her. It had enlarged from its normal, flaccid state but was not yet erect. Satisfied by Bruce’s deep breathing that her experimentation wasn’t bothering him yet, she decided to explore his body a little further. Diana reached back and tweaked his nipples again for a few seconds, then choked back a laugh as she could see another fresh spurt of blood rush into his cock, enlarging it further. She reached out to stroke the soft, pink tip of the cock with the backs of her fingernails. Diana pulled her hand back quickly when the soft, velvety flesh jumped, responding instantly to her touch. The blood was filling it now, increasing its girth again but nowhere near its size at full tumescence.

Diana stared at his cock again for almost a minute, debating her strategy. She could see it pulsating in the same rhythm of his heartbeat, then pouted as his cock, now lacking her touch, wanly decided to resume its own slumber. Sensing that the opportunity might be lost unless she acted quickly, Diana playfully reasoned that if his cock was willing to play without Bruce’s knowledge, then she would have to be satisfied with that.

She propped herself on her hands and knees, slowly moving over and down on him until her head was perched over his cock. Though Bruce had taken a shower, she noticed the slightly musky scent of his genitals. It was a taste to which she’d become accustomed whenever she explored him with her mouth. Inhaling him tentatively, the pheromones of his sex had an immediate effect on her. She could feel her folds slicken further while her nipples had tightened from their usual, quarter-sized dimensions, heading to perfect dimes. She debated about whether to try and pleasure herself while she fellated him then reasoned that she’d have time later to diddle herself in private, if necessary.

Diana hovered over his cock for a moment then gently closed her mouth around him, testing its texture against her tongue and lips. It responded immediately, swelling to almost double its initial size in a matter of seconds. She released his length as it grew, remembering how her first experience had almost gagged her as he filled her mouth. Now, as he grew, she remembered to relax the muscles around her mouth and throat to accommodate him.

It was empowering in a primitive way. Bruce was asleep and could add no complication to the moment. And the moment was between her and his cock.

‘It really does have a mind of its own,’ she mused with delight, then took in a quick breath of pleasure as her clit throbbed with her own arousal. She flicked her fingertips at her own clit, gently soothing its yearning, then released him from her mouth. Her fingertips, now wet with her own desire, closed around the base of his now throbbing member. Gently, she enclosed it in her grip, slowly pumping the bottom few inches. Bruce groaned above her but she was too inflamed with desire at this point to worry about whether he might wake up. She increased the frequency of her strokes then started running her tongue around the head, timing the motions of her hand with the licks and sucks of her mouth and tongue on the head.

The reaction of his cock was immediate, primal. She savored the taste of the precum lubricating her mouth. It had the same musky scent of his ejaculate but the consistency was much thinner, almost like her saliva but with the salty taste of his cum. Her left hand migrated down to his scrotum. She gently weighed the heft of his balls, cupping them in the palm of her hand before starting to stroke them between her fingertips. His sack tightened in response and she was surprised to feel small movements from the vesicles as they transmitted their treasure upwards for release.

Bruce’s legs were now stirring beneath her and the rest of his body soon unconsciously joined the rocking motion of her mouth on his length. His breathing quickened, becoming shallower by the second until finally a mangled gasp escaped from his mouth. She couldn’t see his face but she could tell by his suddenly rigid posture that Bruce was now awake.

“Wha… What are you doing?” he rasped, then sucked in a breath of pleasure as her tongue snaked languidly over the sensitive spot on the underside of his shaft, just below where it joined the head of his cock.

“Just having some fun with my new friend,” she responded in a matter-of-fact tone. He instantly realized that he had no part to play in what she was doing to him. Stunned and still half-asleep, he lay back, propping his head on the pillow to enjoy her efforts.

Diana continued to work on his length for another minute, but the coil of desire which had tightened in her pussy demanded its own release. Enjoying one long last languid lick up and down his shaft, she rose up from her kneeling position until she was straddling him, her hips centered above his.

Still half-asleep but responding with the inflamed desire of a satyr, Bruce reached out before him, cupping her breasts in his hands. His touch further inflamed her already swollen nipples, then she arched her back and spread her legs in order to better receive his length. Diana could feel the tip of his cock deliciously part her outer folds then she rocked her body downward, plunging the length of him into her. Her legs then contracted, pistoning her body up before resuming the head-long plunge down onto his length. Diana sighed with satisfaction as she could feel him probe further, deeper inside of her with each downward stroke.

Quickening her rhythm, Diana threw her head back with a soft moan as the tip of his prick pushed further, rubbing against the delicate g-spot high on the inside walls of her cunt. Leaning back to take him in fully, her motion pushed her farther away, allowing Bruce enough leverage to lightly rub his thumb over her clit, gently applying pressure on the bundle of nerves at the height of each stroke to increase her stimulus.

She almost came instantly when he changed his motion, lightly flicking the tip of his thumb over her now throbbing clit, then slowed her pace. Diana shook her head and kissed him gently, then pinned his arms at his sides.

“Slower,” she implored.

She may have said the words but her body had no intention of honoring their command. Her inner muscles contracted around his length, tightening around his cock with a firm grip, demanding it release its treasure into her body. Bruce leaned farther back, sinking deeply into the pillows to drink in the pleasure of what she was doing to him. Enjoying her domination for a brief interlude, he decided to change up the rhythm by swaying his hips from side to side, creating a circular movement. His cock responded to the leverage by firmly pressing against her inside walls, slamming against her g-spot repeatedly.

Diana’s hips bucked in response as she started to come. Bruce rose up once again, alternatively taking her swollen nipples in his mouth while she arched her back, slamming her hips down onto his. The pressure was too much and Bruce grunted intensely, falling back onto the bed as she pinned his arms against the mattress with her own. His ejaculate shot hard inside her, and she could feel the successive convulsions of his prick as it discharged the last of his cum into her body.

Still panting and convulsing with the last remnants of her orgasm, Diana used her inner muscles to milk the final drops of his release into her. His prick began contracting, reducing to its normal, flaccid size until it finally withdrew.

Sated but feeling empty, Diana slumped forward, then sideways onto the pillow next to Bruce. The room was hot and the scent of their combined musk hung heavy in the air. Bruce, now wide-awake, peered at her with a suspicious grin.

“What exactly were you doing to me while I was asleep?” he murmured.

“To you? Nothing.” She replied, then turned her back to him so she could spoon up against his body. His now limp member, still wet from the combined releases of their sex, settled comfortably into the crack of her ass. She wriggled against it, snuggling it further against her body, then continued. “I was cheating on you…with him.”

“But he’s a part of me!” he protested with a groan. “A big part of me.”

“Not when you’re asleep, he’s not,” Diana replied thoughtfully, then with a sigh of satisfaction, closed her eyes. “That’s when he belongs to me.”

Then End ;)
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The Interloper