This was not what you were expecting to happen. Being driven back from a weekend JL retreat with your boyfriend by Alfred, only for Dick to put the privacy screen up, pull you closer and begin kissing you silly and feeding sweet and spicy nothings into your ear, his attempt to convince you to come on, get close and defile Bruce’s backseat.

Fucking hell.

Ugh, you were being driven crazy, like he was too. His lips meeting yours over and over and over, hand in your hair, fingers just shy of unbuttoning the pretty blouse that went with the sexy skirt. Why’d you have to wear knee high stockings with them too, huh? They were driving him crazy.

Dick was going insane for you, lips hot on yours, panting into your mouth— he couldn’t get enough of you, sue him, which was why he was also encouraging you to get workin’ on the buttons of his shirt. Not the first time you and him have joined the Mile High Club, just never on the road.

“C’mon, baby.” He chuckled, hand ghosting over your ass — ugh, you were melting — and pulling you further into him, making sure to render you thoughtless with the insistent, dizzying, red-hot kisses that he stole and pulled from your kiss-swollen lips.

“S’just us.” He wanted you, he had since you’d walked out of the hotel room in that ‘fit— pretty girl, you looked stunning and he couldn’t have that lip gloss untouched by the time you got back to your apartment. Just a little bit, right? It didn’t matter, Bruce’d never know his eldest defiled his car.

Nobody tell him.