Selina has always tasted like the streets. The kiss of asphalt. The heat of a blistering cloudless day. The unwavering freezing emptiness of a dark night. She is inhaling war into your very lungs, where everything is an act of violence, of claiming, of pursuit, where the chase only ends at your grave. And perhaps in the long span of her absence, it’s what he’s been missing.
To survive is feeling alive, wasn’t it? Or was it the other way around?
It didn’t matter. His hands wound into and clasped onto her hair, keeping her close as if it was her teeth and her bite was all that was keeping him together. His sanity at the tip of his lips and inevitably hers. Heart and body, for once, at one. Pushing, pressing, crowding her against the wall as if his very life depended on it; as if giving an inch, even a micro one, would let the cat loose and run out to play with anyone else but him.
A growl stirs when he feels her pull away, parting for reasons THE WORLD’S GREATEST DETECTIVE could not comprehend in the moment. His gaze clouded, lidded, intoxicated with her. His breaths quiet, like a prayer only held between herself, his god, and air. Clinging to the tail end of each one to keep himself whole. Until of course she steals it all away from him without even a slash of her claws or the plunge of a knife.
Heart. Breath. Thoughts.
All in her hand and crushed under the heel of her shoes.
And he wonders briefly, his eyes falling to watch the slow swell of her chest with every inhale and exhale, if this must be what love was. Feral and disastrous. The perfect tandem of them two. His expression shutting down. His words dying in his throat. And he’s not sure if it's supposed to ache this bad or burn this good.
“ Wait till you try our bed. “
The cat was away, and oh boy, the mouse did play. He answers her frank honesty with a taste of her own medicine. And her reaction is to HISS at him, face set in a snarl, teeth on full display. Her pointy nails dig deeper into his cheeks, not dragging down to leave the full effect of a claw mark, but bitting into his skin enough to begin drawing blood. To begin leaving another reminder of all the destruction they have caused each other.
She does wonder what tokens the Amazon has left behind on him, too, because there's no way the legend that follows her around is true. There's no way anyone can be that fucking good. It just doesn't exist in this world. Goodness, kindness, they're all like Hallmark holidays. Ploys to twist the narrative into something that's bullshit and made up. All they ever accomplish is making the pain hurt more when it comes. And, make no mistake, it always comes.
Her heart beats against her chest, and she worries for a second that it has grown claws, that it's gonna jump out and leave her dead on the rooftop, in the arms of a man who can't seem to keep his dick in check.
He was a terrible husband, and he makes for a worse ex-husband. Because he won't let her go. They're glued together. It hurts, yeah, but tearing it off would be so much harder.
Still hissing, still all feral cat, she rubs against his lower half, cursing his Kevlar for hiding the hardness she knows she's egging on. At his request, she thinks of their bed, that lonely place that became just another battleground for her to bleed out on. She hates him again!!! For reclaiming something for himself that he ruined!!!!
❛ Did you enjoy fucking her in our bed? Does she make you come as hard as I do? ❜ She's growling and hissing and literally spitting the words into his face.
❛ Tell me everything, Bruce. Tell me everything you did in our bed with her, or I swear to fucking God I'll leave tonight and you will never see me again. ❜ She wants him to hurt her harder. It's not an empty threat.
They both know how capable she is of leaving him.













