Marry The Knight Ch. 18

"That's the plan," Bruce replied. He could feel sweat streaming from under his mask.

"Your cock's beautiful," Ivy said breathlessly, seemingly unaware that the topic had segued from negotiation to sex. Perhaps there was no difference to her. "So big. So hard."

She lovingly pumped it for a few seconds, then rolled it like a cigar between her hands. The reflected light from the dashboard showed her hand moving up and down on his thick member. Already he could feel the gathering cum in his balls. Ivy was an expert; she knew what she was doing in a way that even Talia and Nyssa's literally immortal sexual histories didn't. His breath came faster and faster.

Bruce was so caught up in the delicious experience that Ivy had to make her request twice. "What?" he muttered, not really sure he comprehended.

"Move the seat further back," Ivy repeated.

Bruce belatedly set the Batmobile to autopilot, then reached down for the seat release and pushed with his back. They slid all the way back.

"Don't take the mask off," Ivy ordered. Then she bent forward and her barely parted lips slipped wetly down over his pulsing shaft.

"Hnnngh!" It was a groan wrenched from Bruce's soul. He felt his prick give another jerk as if it were alive and independent of him. He knew he could've tried to will it limp, to banish the lewd thoughts swirling in his head, but more than his physical seduction was the mental. He wanted it to remain hugely swollen, growing with every flick of Ivy's shameless tongue.

And why shouldn't he? Perhaps this was as close to love as Ivy could get, aside from the refocused narcissism of her relationship with Harley, the love she held for a seed she'd planted and cared for in the unforgiving soil of the Joker's twisted wreckage. Whatever her actual affections, he knew Ivy well enough to know she would never debase herself like this for the sake of a deception. On some level, she truly was attracted to him, saw this whole thing as some kind of deal and this as some mingling of side benefit and duty. An arrangement, like a plant sucking in carbon dioxide and expelling oxygen. Mutually beneficial.

Her tongue flicked hotly at the opening of his cock, then ran maddening circles around the head. She wrapped her lips around his cockhead so that her mouth felt like a soft, warm condom, being pulled slowly down his shaft.

With her free hand, Ivy reached down into his pants and began gently squeezing his balls in rhythm to her teasing little suckles. Up and down her mouth moved, gently bobbing like she was pumping oil. Bruce was about to go out of his mind from the sensation, his hands straight out, locked on the wheel just for something to hang onto.

Ivy took him deep into her throat. Faster, faster her head moved until Bruce could stand it no longer. He arched his back and raised his ass off the seat to fuck his cock further down her throat. Ivy took it all and, as the head of his prick began swelling enormously, she sucked vigorously. Bruce glanced down and could see her lips bulging as they clung to his wildly fucking cock.

He continued to thrust up to meet her, and she continued to take him. His teeth were clenched shut and hoarse panting whistled through them. His manhood felt as though it weighted a ton—hot molten lava restlessly surging below a volcano.

Bruce knew that, after the long interval of denying himself to please Talia and Nyssa, he was now on the verge of coming. His seed gathered, seething and boiling. The eruption was imminent. Low guttural noises of pleasure came rumbling out of his throat. He was almost there... almost... almost. Now!

The first hot spurts of cum boiled out of his balls and screamed along his shaft. "Hahhhhh!" His cry was meant to give her some warning, but the sound merely increased her sucking frenzy. The hot cum soared out of his manhood in great gushing amounts, and she went on sucking furiously as he put everything he had into her wonderfully greedy mouth.

And still he came, as years of pent-up frustration in fighting her, resisting her, wanting her, yearning for her, needing her defeat and submission and final, irrevocable alignment with him. Not out of fear of a larger threat or as part of some con, but to genuinely and permanently see her no longer a threat, to anyone.

It was what he'd hoped for all along with this undertaking, and seeing his wildest dreams realized manifested itself physically. Just as his drive for justice had created the armor of Batman and the well-disciplined power of Bruce Wayne, his quest for her redemption became almost a cup of semen.

Ivy used her tongue to tease, her lips to suck, until his manhood slowly began to deflate. It was as though she felt it necessary to suck every last drop of whitely heated seed from his balls. She continued to work until he was sure he would have another erection, then she stopped. It was then Bruce realized she hadn't been able to breathe.

She pulled herself off his generous member, cum drooling out of her lazily opened mouth, to finally lay her chin down on his lap and lean her head against his crotch. Bruce gave a mumbled sight of happy release and abruptly became aware that the Batmobile—lights on, motor running—was standing motionless in the garage of the Batcave where his autopilot had left it.

Ivy licked her cum-dripping lips, then brushed her lips against his member as if trying to wipe away the lipstick smeared on it.

"I can trust you, can't I Batm... Bruce? You always seemed like the only one who gave a damn... Batman, I mean... and if you're really Bruce, then I guess he gives a damn too..."

"You can trust me," Bruce said, reaching down to pet her hair. "I'll never do anything to hurt you."

"Yeah... that's right... and you won't hurt me either... you never did want to hurt me, did you?"

"No."

"All this time, telling me I needed help. I never thought you'd be the one to help me. People don't take responsibility like that. They pass everything along. Ignore it. Hope it goes away. Whether it's a toxic waste dump or a... or a woman who's been hurt."

Ivy slithered up until she was enclosed in his arms. Her face was wet—glistening from the cum and streaked with her lipstick. She hugged him tightly and he wrapped his arms around her, the gesture that he'd become so practiced in applying to Harley. Perhaps they had more in common than just sex and crime. Perhaps, damaged and wounded, they saw in each other lost souls like their own. Perhaps that was what Ivy saw in him as well, now that he'd let her see all of him.

Then, imperious as a cat—perhaps Ivy had something in common with Selina as well—the redhead wiped her mouth with his cape. "Do I look presentable? Can you tell I've been sucking you off?"

He inspected her face, and shook his head.

"Can we go to bed, then?"

"Get Nyssa," Bruce told her. "I'll carry Talia."

"Nyssa's cuter anyway." She smiled as she slid out to collect Nyssa from the backseat. As her skirt flared up, Bruce realized he had been right. She wasn't wearing panties after all. The crevice of her smooth young buttocks was a dark inviting line at the top of her smooth thighs.

Bruce pressed the quick-release on his costume's systems, letting it fall apart to leave him in only his boxers and undershirt. He wiped away the greasepaint that further concealed his identity, using his forearm, then picked up Talia.

Then, he followed after Ivy.