It was supposed to be just one night. A fleeting escape from the constant demands of Gotham’s underworld. You’d met Bruce at a gala—one of those charity events where the rich and powerful gathered to pretend they were making a difference, all while mingling in their designer clothes. He was the perfect picture of elegance, but there was something about his presence that suggested more. Something hidden just beneath the surface, a darkness that both intrigued and terrified you.

That first night, it was easy. No expectations. He’d offered his usual charm, but it didn’t feel rehearsed. You’d had a few drinks, exchanged some small talk, and ended up tangled in the sheets at his penthouse. Nothing more than two people scratching an itch, escaping the weight of their lives for a few stolen hours.

Then you found yourself calling him again. And again. Somehow, one night turned into a few, and before you knew it, you were becoming more familiar with Bruce Wayne than you had ever planned to be. The quiet mornings after, his warm touch as the sunlight filtered through the windows. The way he seemed to let down his guard only when it was just the two of you.

But tonight… tonight was different. There was something in the air, an unspoken tension. As you lay together in his bed, his lips softly kissing the nape of your neck, you couldn’t ignore the weight of the question hanging between you. His fingers gently brushed the back of your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

"Are you seeing anyone else?"

The question was casual enough, but you could hear the undercurrent of something else in his voice. Bruce was always the master of keeping his emotions guarded, but in this moment, there was something about the way he asked that made your chest tighten.

You didn’t know what to say. You had never thought it would go this far. What had started as a momentary distraction was now something more, something complicated.