Brides of Batman (Patreon)

Bruce dove into the bay without hesitation, as he would’ve even when he was alive. Now, with his unbeating heart and his thirst for blood, he had nothing to fear from the cold waters. Only failure.

He still felt the chill of the freezing cold water all around him, but there was no insistence to it. Even without his suit to block it out, he was as at home in the middle of winter as he was in the scorching of summer.

He swam downward until he caught sight of Harley’s getaway car, sinking into the murk. Marked only by a trail of escaping air and the headlights that bobbed with the eddies of the car’s descent. Bruce’s legs kicked powerfully, arms windmilling until he was at the car’s trunk.

Gloved fingers sank into the bodywork. Even faster than he had swam, he pulled himself down to the driver’s side. Wrenched the door off the chassis. Sliced through the seatbelt with a pass of his claws.

Harley sat there in the driver’s seat, cheeks bulging with the last of her air, eyes full of panic. He grabbed her by her pigtails. Held tightly to her as he kicked for the surface, trailing the criminal behind him.

Even through the ponderous weight of the water he heard her heart flailing, then slowing as her breath ran out and she gulped seawater. There was nothing to be done yet. Batman continued pumping his legs until they breached air. He held Harley up above the water, but the gray water only ran from her lips and nostrils—she didn’t spit up any of what was filling her lungs.

Bruce lashed out with his wings, using them as a second set of limbs. Grabbing hold of the pier Harley’s car had just careened off of and wrenching himself up onto dry land. He set Harley down, pumped her chest with joined hands, then forced his own long-inactive lungs to work. Sucking in air from the surrounding atmosphere so he could force it into Harley’s mouth.

He breathed for her and breathed for her until he heard her heart thunder again—felt her arms wind around him, holding onto his cowled head while she turned the resuscitation into a kiss.

Bruce was taken by surprise—not knowing what to think. All of a sudden Harley, who’d only ever tried to kill him, was groping his body and sucking on his tongue. Excitement charged his cool blood, matching the warmth returning to Harley’s flesh as her heart rejuvenated the chilled blood in her veins. Warm and tempting.

Bruce had been without sex, without sustenance, for several days now. No time to arrange for one of his feedings while the Joker was on the loose. He couldn’t help the rush of desire he felt with Harley’s decadently warm mouth moving against his. And he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist it for long. Harley had all but given herself to him: now he would take what she’d offered.

***

Harley pulled away from Batman’s coldly burning mouth. Cold but still exciting. Her lips tingled like they never did when she was with Mistah J.

He’d gotten upset with her again, tossed her aside, and she’d gone off to pull a heist, because of course he would take her back if she had some loot for him to use in his schemes. Then Batman had gotten involved and man, that Batmobile could corner a lot better than it looked!

Then she’d ended up in the drink and she supposed Batman had revived her—he was nice like that—and after that… well, she didn’t know why she had kissed him. She just did things sometimes. It had felt good. That was reason enough.

Only somehow it didn’t seem like a very good reason now, with Batman’s stare burning into her through the opaque lenses of his cowl. She averted her eyes to get away from that phantom stare, looking down and seeing the swell pressing against the groin of his pants.

Harley blushed—he was big, much bigger than Mistah J was. She felt a flash of guilt. How could she be thinking about sex when she’d failed him, getting hauled off to jail with her pudding still angry at her?

“Thanks for savin’ me, I guess… heh… guess I ain’t your typical damsel in distress, now am I?”

“Maybe half-dressed,” Batman said, his secret gaze seeming to encompass her dripping wet body, sodden white T-shirt that was now virtually invisible, showing all of her upper body but the bra she wore. Her denim shorts couldn’t show anything off no matter how wet they were, but her waterlogged panties were cool on her mound, paradoxically making it flare hotly. Like her body had to scramble to make up for how it was feeling… all off-balance…

“Hey, you made a funny,” Harley tittered, trying to bury the awkwardness. Usually she’d be trying to make Bats uncomfortable—maybe that was why she had kissed him—but it was too serious when she was the one who felt this way. “Trying to b-butter me up…?”

Her greasepaint and clown make-up were equally saturated, cleared from her pale skin to leave her looking like just another blonde beach bunny. She wondered if she’d looked like a typical bikini enthusiast who’d had a mishap with the suntan lotion. Maybe Bats liked that type… who knew what a guy like him went for?

“I don’t need to butter you up,” Batman said, and though his voice was gruff as ever, he was getting close, personal. She felt his closeness as he loomed over her, felt how easy it would be for him to touch her.

A powerful spasm rolled through Harley’s sex; she had to close her eyes. Her lips swelled, puffing out from where the car had knocked her face against the steering wheel. Blood seeped from a cut under her nose. And a juice of a different kind trickled maddeningly through the tangled thatch of her untended pussy, warming her thighs.

She moved her legs, rubbing them together for relief from the night’s wet chill, but all she felt was her labia and her clit. The motion on them felt real good… bad good… dangerous good.

“Ya… ya could stand to butter me up anyway,” Harley reasoned with a gulp. “I’m a lady, y’know. You should always treat a lady like a lady…”

Harley’s eyes dipped down again. The outline of his cock was growing, she knew it, it was getting longer and thicker.

“You’re no lady,” Batman said, his voice as quiet as it was firm.

Harley’s cheeks turned a darker shade of red—the greasepaint didn’t hide how flushed she was getting anymore. “And you ain’t no gentleman neither…”

Harley gasped as Batman’s thick arm snaked around her shoulder, lifted her up to him while his other hand caressed her cheek, wiping away the last of the greasepaint that marred her features. He drew her close, held her tight, and Harley’s breathing rushed. Feeling like a mouse transfixed by the cat about to pounce on it.

“You don’t need gentle,” Batman said. Now his voice was growing husky. Almost cruel in how it tormented her with such heat inside… “You need a man.”

“I… I got a…”

Harley couldn’t finish her disclaimer. Fire blossomed between her legs. It’d been so long, too long, since anyone had touched her there. Not even Ivy had made her feel this way; too pissy about her and the Joker.

Maybe it was the close call of her near drowning. Maybe it was the tension, the worry over her relationship with Mistah J, or just how long it had been since Red had taken care of her needs.

Her skin seemed to glow where he touched her. He ripped away her wet shirt and kissed her lightly on the neck. Her head drifted backwards as if it needed to get out of the way of the moan she voiced. Harley squirmed on the warped planks, a bed of moss that roiled under her. A sudden heat washed over her like a light being shone on her body.

“Shouldn’t… shouldn’t be doin’ this, Bats… gonna get in trouble…”

“You like trouble, Harleen. You’ve always liked it and you’ve always wanted it. Like you’ve wanted me. I’ve seen you, felt your eyes on me,” Batman said, his confident voice so overpowering that Harley felt herself believing in his words without even thinking about them.

Harley forced her eyes to focus on the man towering over her. The jawline, the dark stubble, even the lips were all so handsome. In her delirium, she didn’t really notice his fangs. They seemed to go with his cowl, his horns, his staring yet blind lenses. Beautiful in its brutality.

His hands moved underneath her bra. Leather gloves touching her soft, bare flesh. Her nipples. Harley moaned, squeezing her legs together, rubbing her thighs against each other. Her drying panties were wet again, wet and warm over her crotch.

“Oh yes, yes,” she panted, feeling her reluctance fading away. She heard Batman’s heavy breathing, felt his burning tongue flicker into her ear, and her clit surged. A knot of tension locked inside her, down at the center of Harley. They shouldn’t be doing this, but it felt so good, so fucking good…

Harley looked down and saw his bulging erection on her thigh. He deliberately rubbed himself against her, making his cock longer, harder, thicker. The outline throbbed against Harley’s stockinged flesh. Harley sucked in a deep breath. It’d been a long time since she’d felt a man’s prick, but she remembered now. This was what it felt like. Only more. Bigger. And intense. This was already much more intense than she remembered.

“Let’s go someplace where we can be alone.”

His wings unfurled, tattered and leathern—they hung so akin to his cape that Harley could’ve mistaken their demonic span for the wind suddenly catching the fabric, only this was alive, it was moving. It carried them upward, the wind rushing past, whipping Harley with chills. She pressed herself to Batman for what warmth she could find in his body, and though his armor offered no respite, she still felt warmer. She burned between her legs.

Holding her in his powerful arms, he brought her to the rooftop of one of the building overlooking the waterfront. Harley felt crazier than usual; a new kind of crazy. This was all so fast, so sudden. How could she be letting herself get seduced so easily after she’d dedicated so much of her life to Mistah J? Her walls against the world outside her and her pudding must have been crumbling long before Batman decided to tear them down.

They set down, Batman alighting on the rooftop as easily as he’d step off an elevator. It was obvious he controlled those wings of him with the same mastery that he applied to the rest of the world—that he applied to Harley. Images drifted in front of Harley’s eyes like they were beckoning her into delirium, lit by the burning stars and the sweeping glow from a distant lighthouse. It leavened the darkness in throbs and waves. It never let her forget who was doing this to her.

She felt herself being lowered to the ground, only it wasn’t hard cement, but the living warmth of Batman’s wings gathered under her. He pulled her bra off now, slipped her shorts down her legs. Now all she wore were her fishnet stockings.

Something was different about him, a change, an unveiling. Even with his eyes the same blank ice as ever, his stare was darker. They didn’t look at her with the compassionate understanding she’d gotten from Batman before. They looked at her like a brute animal saw a bitch in heat.

“You can’t live without a master,” Batman said huskily. “So I’ll be your master. Take what I need from you. And give you what you need.”