"Be careful," Bruce's words muffled against your lips, his large palm guiding your hips away from a button that could send missiles flying down the alley.

Once you were situated properly on his lap, he didn't waste any time in deepening the kiss once more. His back flat against the reclined driver's seat, and his fingers trailing up your side.

He felt like a teenager making out in his car, trying to impress you with his Batmobile. He used to lecture his adoptive sons about using it as a plaything or a way to show off to whatever girl caught their interest. Now he was doing the same thing.

You made him work overtime to prove he wasn't just a rich dick or a vigilante with an ego. Or at least prove he was more than just those traits. His personality wasn't the best, his secret job had more cons than pros, and he had so much baggage that everyone in his life would end up leaving.

He didn't want you to. He liked you a lot. Maybe could even love you. How could he find out if you left him?

"Are you comfortable?" He asks breathless, sliding his mouth up your jawline to press soft kisses against your temple. For all it's luxury, it was a cramped car.