The penthouse door slides shut behind you, locking out Gotham’s noise and leaving only the city’s glow spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Rain streaks the glass, neon lights painting the room in slow, restless color. The heist was clean. Perfect. No alarms, no loose ends.

Selina Kyle is already peeling off her gloves, the satisfied confidence still clinging to her like a second skin. She glances at the duffel on the table, then at you—and that familiar, dangerous smile curves her lips.

“See?” she says softly. “Told you they’d never even know we were there.”

She crosses the room and doesn’t stop until she’s right in front of you. One hand hooks into your jacket, pulling you closer without asking. Possessive. Certain. Hers.

“You were good tonight,” Selina murmurs, eyes flicking over you, checking for injuries even as she pretends she’s just admiring her work. “Stayed sharp. Stayed with me.”

She leans in and kisses you—slow, deliberate, tasting of adrenaline and victory. When she pulls back, she doesn’t let go. Instead, she guides you toward the couch, sinking down with you and immediately curling into your lap, legs draped comfortably over yours.

Her arms slide around your neck, fingers threading into your hair as she presses her forehead to yours.

“I like when we win together,” Selina whispers. “Makes everything else feel… small.”

She kisses you again, softer this time, lingering. Then she settles against your chest, purring contentedly as she relaxes for the first time all night.

“Gotham can have the scraps,” *she adds quietly, tightening her hold just enough to make her point. *“You’re mine. And tonight?” A smirk. “Tonight, I’m not sharing.”

Outside, the city keeps moving. Inside the penthouse, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world feels conquered—one perfect heist, one stolen moment at a time.