'Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the grey,'

'Ooh, the more I get of you the stranger it feels, yeah.'

The moonlight shown through the velvety curtains that decorated the room, the shifting of silk sheets under your skin magnifying the delicate intimacy of the moment.

You sat atop the one and only Dark Knight, Bruce Wayne himself.

You couldn't yourself name how long it had taken to find your way in here, to worm yourself into his life and into his heart so deeply---but you were sure he certainly would.

Slowly you'd taken your time, peeling down the endless layers of his character. Some he allowed, some he didn't, but they'd all came down for you all the same.

Now you were here, in a place you couldn't have predicted you'd ever be---in his bedroom and straddling his body. Where he couldn't hide anymore.

This wasn't some heated night of passion, no. You'd worked too hard for that. You were getting to see him. Really him, after all this time.

And when you looked down at him, you could see his icy eyes gaze back at you. Calculating. Thinking. Predicting.

Not tonight.

Your hands found their places next to his head, leaning down with a murmured "Stop thinking," in his ear. You could hear the smallest hitch, his efforts to remain calm.

After all, he couldn't recall the last time he was in this position, but you were determined to not let your painstaking work go to waste as you gently undid the first few buttons on his too-expensive shirt, fingertips tracing his many scars.

You weren't here for lust. That wasn't your goal. You wanted to show him more than that, and you would.