Quote:

PrincessElisa said:
I didn't want to hear about Jokers and Harley Quinn's sexual relationship :P



"Dark Night Conquest"
A Batman/Catwoman fanfic
By Bill K.

Batman and Catwoman are (c)2001 by DC Comics, Inc., and are used without
permission, but with respect. Story is (c)2001 by Bill K.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gotham City at night: an inkydigodigo maze of cold, concrete
spires, tired smaller homes and buildings that had seen better days. At
night innocent people sought shelter in their homes or they worked with
one eye on a pre-determined escape route should one of the many
predators who prowled the city choose them. At night the predators
emerged, seeking victims. The quality of fear and suspicion ratcheted
up several levels.

And The Batman emerged as well. He too sought prey. His prey was
those who preyed on others.

With his scalloped cape blowing in the pervasive wind that seemed
to live permanently in the city, his trained eyes scanned the area for a
crime to stop, an innocent to help or a wrong to avenge. The city,
though, seemed quiet. Normally that would be worrisome - - Gotham
seemed most deadly when it was quiet. But tonight Batman almost seemed
grateful.

As he moved quietly along a rooftop to check a noise, he felt the
ache of the previous night's battle in his bones. Thntrintriloquist had
made another attempt at easy riches and he'd selected his assistants
well. They'd actually given him a struggle. Then there was the
drive-by he'd happened upon coming back from the battle, and then the
burglary at Orson Electronics after that. Alfred had recommended rest,
knowing the recommendation would be politely rejected. Now, seeing the
noise belonged to a cat rooting through a garbage can, he wondered if
perhaps Alfred had been right.

And just like that, it connected in his brain. Seeing the cat
reminded him of Catwoman. And that reminded him that there was a new
microchip prototype at Orson Electronics. He'd seen it while
apprehending the burglar, who was only after precision welding equipment
to fence. He knew its value. And, sadly because of a leak to the
press, so did the world now. It would be the perfect target for
Catwoman and about half of the other criminals who infested Gotham.

Batman sighed in frustration at his lack of foresight and leaped
down to where his vehicle was parked. He only hoped he wasn't too late.

Orson Electronics was a new firm residing in an old hardware
factory that had once been gutted by fire and then rehabbed into a
nearly brand new building after sitting empty for twenty years. On the
roof of the building The Catwoman sat on the skylight, her chin in her
hands. Her raven hair blowing in the cold wind, she crossed her arms
across her chest against the chill. Pearl white teeth bit softly into a
pretty lower lip as the woman, dressed in her usual violet skin tight
body suit, boots and long gloves, and concealing cowl with cat's ears,
debated a course of action. At once she reached a decision. Clutching
her whip in her right hand, she pushed off tkylikylight to a standing
position.

Then fell back a pace in alarm as a black figure loomed over her,
one that wasn't there moments before.

"You like doing that, don't you?" Catwoman gasped, gloved hand to
her chest.

"It serves me," the shadow replied, its unrelenting white eyes
boring into her.

"No 'hello'?" she purred seductively, her mouth and body language
seeking to be alluring and succeeding. "I thought we were old friends."

"I noticed you sitting there," Batman said. "Find a lock you
couldn't crack?"

"Don't be insulting," Catwoman replied, her brow and her tone
arched. "I admit, I was going to make a play for the chip." She sighed
in fatigue and crossed her arms over her chest again. "But then I
wondered what was the point?"

The shadow regarded her silently.

"It's an easy lock, an easy system, an easy caper - - too easy. I
boost the chip, sell it to the highest bidder, take my money," and
Catwoman looked away, "and go home to the company of my cats. Hardly
worth climbing up here for."

"No one chose this life for you," Batman admonished.

Catwoman shot him an angry glare. "Oh, why do I try?" spat
Catwoman angrily. "Never mind! Go back to dancing with The Joker!"

Fuming, she began to stalk off, waving her hand dismissively at
him. Batman's hand shot out and caught the wrist in an iron grip.
Immediately her claws jammed down into Batman's hand. She twisted her
arm and wrenched free, then pivoted into a crouch, her whip out and
ready.

"I've warned you about grabbing me!" she hissed.

"Don't make me take that away from you," Batman said evenly. He
saw the edges of her mouth curl at the challenge. "So far you haven't
done anything to make me come after you."

"How do you know?" she smirked, her eyes twinkling.

Then she executed a perfect back flip over the ledge of the
building roof. Batman was at the ledge in a nd. nd. He peered over the
edge and saw her swinging to the sidewalk, three stories below, her whip
hooked onto a decorative flagpole.

Outwardly he sighed in frustration and produced his hook and line,
prepared to go after her. Deep down, though, in a place he wouldn't
acknowledge save for times when he was at his most vulnerable, part of
him thrilled to the chase.

As he swung out into open space, his aerial view of the area
spotted a Mercury Cougar parked in a back alley, as if waiting to be
used as a getaway vehicle. Catwoman was a meticulous planner and having
escape routes was usually the first thing she planned for. She valued a
lot of things, but she valued her freedom above all else. Altering his
flight, he saw her very alluring figure racing toward the car. Batman
set his jaw, inwardly disappointed on one level that the chase was over
so soon.

Catwoman tore down the alley, the car in sight. Bitter
experience, if nothing else, told her to look up and all arounr for for
some sign of the bat. Sure enough, he landed on the Cougar's roof when
she was ten yards from it. The woman stopped, glancing around for an
unexpected direction in which to move. Batman crouched on the hood,
ready to pounce on her no matter which direction she chose. Evidently
not liking her other options, Catwoman pulled out her whip and crouched,
ready to fight.

"Put it down," he warned.

"Take it from me!" she snarled.

Batman leaped down from the car hood - - and instantly was seized
by electricity. Forcing his head down, he saw a metal plate next to the
car, wired to deliver a charge. The dirt camouflage was all the
evidence he needed - - it had been a trap. The charge itself wasn't
lethal, and even if it was it would have been lessened by the insulation
in his boots, but it was enough to slow down his reflexes. Looking up,
he was just in time to see Catwoman throw a small dart. Knowing her
enemy, she aimed for the unprotected arms rather than the protected
chest. Instantly he felt a numbing tingle radiate out from the dart.
He had just enough strength to pluck it from his arm before he collapsed
to the ground.
* * * *
Experience had taught The Batman to return to consciousness
without giving any outward signs of it. When reason returned to his
mind, he mentally inventoried his physical condition and everything he
could sense os sus surroundings.

His wrists were bound behind an eight-inch thick wooden support
post. He was in a small room, from the sound of the air currents and
various noises, about eight feet by six, with a concrete floor and very
little decoration or other sound baffling. His cape and cowl were still
on him, as were his gloves, but the rest of his costume was gone.
Perhaps Catwoman was being cautious?

The click of boots on concrete approached him. Determining that
he'd learned all he could by feigning unconsciousness, Batman opened his
eyes. Catwoman stood over him, her face a mask of confident triumph - -
and more.

"Knowing you, I'd guess it was a specific toxin that induced
temporary catalepsy," he said. "It would fit with the taste in my
mouth."

"I had to do something to make you more manageable," Catwoman
purred. "It's just so hard to reason with you sometimes."

"I could say the same," he replied. "Did you ever intend to rob
Orson?"

"Originally. A lot of what I said on the roof was true." She
pred aed a naughty grin. "I know better than to lie to you."

"But it was a trap from the start."

"Yes. You're a little predictable when you're after game. To
catch you, I had to be unpredictable."

"Why?"

"Because I'm the Catwoman. Because I take what I want. And when
I woke up," and she turned ever so slightly, to try to prevent any
vulnerability from being glimpsed, "I realized I had a yearning in me
that only you could satisfy." She turned back to him and her red tongue
licked her red lips. "So we're going to spend a little time getting
intimate. The ropes are for my protection - - so you don't get any
mood-killing notions about taking me to jail." Her eyes twinkled with
lust and amusement. "You can play nice or you can fight. It might even
be more fun if you fought."

Batman remained silent. There was nothing to say. Catwoman sank
down, straddling his legs. A violet-gloved hand reached out slowly and
seductively and ever so lightly caressed the underside of his cock with
the talon at the end of her index finger. Batman remained as rigid as
he could, the muscles on his chest and shoulders bunching. Catwoman
smirked.

"Don't worry," she smiled. "I won't hurt you." Her emerald eyes
looked up out of the cowl's eye-holes from below hooding lids and thick
black lashes. "Hurting you is the last thing I've ever wanted to do."

Her chest rose with pent-up erotic fervor. He could see she
wanted to leap on him, that she was barely restraining herself. In his
mind, that annoying voice was asking him why he was resisting, why he
thought this was a bad thing. The longer it went unanswered, the more
insistent it grew.

"All that power," she breathed admiringly, leaning forward so that s cos cock pressed up into her lap, separated from her flesh only by a
wisp of spandex, "bound and harnessed and straining to break free." She
felt him squirm beneath her, the soft material covering her crotch
lightly, teasingly caressing intimate flesh on his magnificent form.
Her hands caressed his hard chest, the gloved palms pressing into the
muscles. Catwoman leaned in so her breath could be felt hot and burning
on his face. She touched his chin with her tongue and licked up across
his lips to the tip of his cowl. "Do I turn you on?"

Batman still kept silent. Undaunted, Catwoman rolled back onto
his thighs and flashed him another naughty smirk. Whether it was her
proximity to him, her power over him or a mixture of both, she was
clearly aroused. Her hands came up to her cleavage and began to drag
the zipper in the front of her costume down her abdomen.

"Of course you won't say," she whispered, her smoldering green
eyes locked on his white slits. "That would be giving me an advantage.
And you can't have that - - even though I know the effect I have on you.
I've known it almost since the day we met. I've used it more than once
to get fro from you." Her shoulders sensually shrugged off the tight
violet costume, revealing sinewy muscles and a rich, full chest with
coral nipples. The costume pulled down her arms and off, leaving her
nude from the waist up save for her cowl. She glanced down at his
throbbing cock and smirked again. "You see. It's not as big a secret
as you think."

Leaning in again, Catwoman rose up and wrapped her arms around the
post, pressing Batman's face into her bosom. She leisurely moved her
torso up and down, feeling his skin caress the sensitive flesh.
Occasionally a nipple would brush his lips, sending an extra thrill
through her. His hard, muscular chest would press against her stomach.
It was an appetizer for her, nothing more, but it served her purpose.

Sitting down again directly on his groin, Catwoman kept her arms
folded around him. He still remained maddeningly inscrutable, though
his face was slightly flushed from the intimate contact. Puckishly, she
began to grind down on his groin, his hardness rubbing the spandex
between her legs, which in turn rubbed against more intimate places.
She felt him tense, which was good because she was also feeling her own
insides tense as well. Her mouth dived to his and she kissed him. It
was hard and long, pouring out all the passion she felt for him, all the
conflicting emotions she'd gone through since their first meeting, all
the desire and denial, the frustration and loathing - - and longing.

And she felt him respond. He began to kiss back. So he wasn't
made of stone. Giddy with excitement, she kissed even harder. Her
chest pressed into his as she locked her arms around the post, trying to
pull herself through him she held it so hard. Her loins began to
tingle. Her nipples were on fire. Her brain was swimming. Everything
forgforgotten except the needs she had, needs that screamed to be
satisfied.

Before she knew it, Catwoman's arms were seized and pulled behind
her back. She pulled away from Batman in surprise and found his arms
free and binding her wrists with the sleeve of her own costume.

"How did you - - ?" she gasped in alarm, then slumped in
dejection. "Never mind. Silly question."

She tugged in frustration at the spandex bindings around her
wrists, her breasts jiggling with the effort. She was caught and her
smoldering passions died into wet embers.

"So now what?" she replied bitterly.

Suddenly Catwoman found herself on her back, lying on her bound
arms, Batman crouching over her, pinning her to the hard cement floor.
At moments like this, it wasn't hard to be afraid of him, despite her
long experience with his moods and his ways. Her vulnerable position
didn't help. He stared down at her, the shadows obscuring all of his
face but those damnable white slits. She felt her breath catch in her
chest.

But all he did was caress her lips with the thumb of a
now-gloveless hand. The peculiarly intimate gesture calmed her ever so
slightly.

"Truce?" a voice asked. It came from him, but it sounded so soft
and tentative that she wasn't sure it was his. "I know we're enemies
and we'll probably always be. But what you've been feeling - - I've
been feeling it, too. I know there's no hope of anything more between
us than animal lust. But, maybe we can take a little time, forget the
masks, forget the people beneath the masks, and just," and he caressed
her lips again, "answer nature's call."

Catwoman squirmed beneath him. She was afraid, afraid of him,
afraid of being helpless, and more afraid of the precipice she was on.
There was a voice inside of her screaming at her to say 'yes', but she'd
wanted it on her terms. She'd been burned too many times, by him and by
others.

"Untie me first," she bargained, wriggling uncomfortably beneath
him. Batman turned his head ever so slightly, but enough so that some
light hit his face and highlighted the small grin.

"That would mean I trust you," he whispered and in spite of
herself she had to smile. Then his hand gently caressed her cheek. "I
promise I won't hurt you."

"I've heard that before," she sighed in resignation.

"I believed you. You know I mean it," he reiterated. She did.
If he was one thing, he was a man of his word. He'd never hurt her - -
knowingly.

His thumb came in contact with her lips again and unconsciously
she enveloped it with her mouth. She sucked absently on the thumb,
grateful to have something in her mouth besides leaden words. A quick
glance of green eyes from under hooded lids saw him smile, then gently
remove the thumb. He trailed it down her breastbone, her saliva
glistening on her skin. His touch seemed to burn his mark on her and
she felt her resolve crumble away a little more. The thumb stopped
midway down her stomach and flattened out into a hand. His hand rested
on her belly, gentle but forceful, and Selena struggled not to laugh.

"Ticklish?" he commented.

"Dammit," she hissed. "Can't I have any secrets from you?"

He began to lightly caress her abdomen and Catwoman let her head
loll back. The tension through her sternum was palpable, while her
limbs felt limp as water. He seemed to know just where to touch and
with just the right intensity. She silently asked why and the only
response she could come up with was "He's Batman."

Her head perked back up. His hand had slithered under the
waistband of her costume. Selena pressed her lips together tightly as
he neared intimate regions. He studied her every reaction, waiting for
her to signal he'd gone too far, but she was oblivious to it. Catwoman
was too torn with whether she wanted him to or not.

Suddenly his mouth was to hers, their lips pressing together,
transmitting passion back and forth. Surprised at first, Catwoman
quickly recovered and surrendered to the kiss, returning ardor as good
as she got. And when she felt probing fingers encounter the wetness of
her loins and use that lubricant to glide back and forth on sensitive
flesh, she moaned into his mouth. Her spine arched, needing to do
something with the surge of sexual energy she felt.

"Put," she gasped, tearing her mouth from his, "put one in." He
complied and the penetration sent new shivers up her. His face remained
close to hers, their cowls brushing as he pressed his lips to her cheek.
"Yes!" she sighed. "Rub the insides!" Again he complied and when he
encountered a particularly sensitive patch, she groaned loudly.

He continued to rub inside her and she continued to groan as her
arms pulled against her binding. Breath was coming in short gasps now,
her breasts bobbing atop her heaving chest. Her hip twisted so she
could drape a leg over his hip, anything to draw her closer to him. All
doubts were gone now, banished by hedonistic pleasure.

When his hand withdrew, when his face pulled away, Catwoman's face
screwed up into petulant frustration. She glared up at him, his face
again shadowed and unreadable. Then she felt his hand close around the
waistband of her costume.

"Tell me 'no'," he advised, the undertone of his warning screaming
to her to do the opposite.

"You're always asking me to do things I can't do," she whispered
hoarsely, her vision clouded red with desire for him.

The costume pulled down over her hips and away from her legs. Now
as naked as he was, Catwoman spread her legs invitingly and stared up at
him, her demeanor silently demanding he please her. As he mounted her,
his cloak draped over them both and there was a moment where it seemed
more like he was swallowing her whole than anything else.

She felt him slide into her, felt his hips nestle between her
thighs and Catwoman gave herself over to the sensations. The world was
gone. Nothing and no one was now more important than riding his
thrusts, feeling the delicious tingle build in her pelvis and wait in
nervous anticipation, wondering how high it would build until it
flowered and washed over her. With each stroke she could feel his power
radiate up into her. It was like riding a powerful speeding horse, or
feeling a roaring motorcycle between her legs. She was making love to a
force of nature and, rather than control it, sode ode it like a surfer
on a tsunami, stealing every ounce of excitement she could until she
crashed.
* * * *
It was still dark, but she knew it would be morning soon - - and
there were better places to sleep than a concrete floor. Catwoman
silently slid her body out from under the scalloped cloak. As she did,
she caught sight of him, sleeping next to her. Her lips pulled into a
warm smile as she remembered the crescendo of the previous night.

Then her smile grew bittersweet when she realized it would
probably never happen again. She wanted it, wanted it more than ever
now that she'd experienced it - - him - - but he'd said it himself.
They were just too different and too uncompromising. They both knew
they couldn't live with each other without destroying what they had, if
not each other.

Wriggling back into her costume, Catwoman glanced at him again,
then forced herself to turn away. Better to slink off, to be gone when
he awoke, so words couldn't diminish what they'd achieved last night.
She eased the zipper up to her bust silently.

"I see you got free," she heard him say, jumping at the sound.
Her astonishment washed out of her as her shoulders slumped, replaced by
frustration.

"Stop scaring me like that!" she fumed. Then she turned away. "I
was trying to be gone before you woke up. I didn't want - - well, never
mind. I, um, I hope it was I meI mean it sounded like it was as good
for you as it was for me." She glanced nervously back at him. "Let's
just keep it at that."

"Where's my costume?" Batman asked.

"I, um, hid it," Catwoman grinned devilishly. "I figured I'd need
a head start."

"Why?"

"Come on," she bristled. "You don't forgive or forget that
easily. I wasn't going to risk you reverting to type and running me
in."

"For what?" Batman sat up, his cloak covering most of his body.
"Technically, all you're guilty of is kidnapping," and Batman bowed his
head ever so slightly, "and I don't think the victim will be pressing
charges."

Catwoman smiled. "Well, there may be hope for you yet."

"And you." She turned to go. "Keep your nose clean." She
glanced back cynically. "And next time, ask. I might just say yes."

Catwoman stared at him, dumbfounded. "You better be careful.
You're going to completely ruin my image of you."

And, like a wisp, she was gone.

Ten minutes later, The Batman emerged from the building located at
the end of the alley the Cougar had been parked in. The Cougar, as he
expected, was gone. By the color of the night, he judged it to be
nearly five a.m. Engaging his belt radio, he opened a channel to the
batcave.

"Master Bruce?" he heard Alfred's groggy voice. "Heavens, it's
nearly five! Forgive me for dosing at my station. Were you in any dire
straits?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle."

"Indeed? Shall I turn down the bed and prepare the medical kit
for your undoubtedly fractured knuckles? I quite imagine you're worn to
the bone with such late night 'festivities'."

"Not this tim he he commented. "Actually, I'm feeling somewhat
. . . invigorated."

THE END

Old men, fear me! You will shatter under my ruthless apathetic assault!

Uschi - 2
Old Men - 0

"I am convinced that this world is of no importance, and that the only people who care about dates are imbeciles and Spanish teachers." -- Jean Arp, 1921

"If Jesus came back and saw what people are doing in his name, he would never never stop throwing up." - Max von Sydow, "Hannah and Her Sisters"