commissioner james gordon x gn!reader, age gap, obv power imbalance but it's okay ♡ fade to black, 16+
a/n: probably first and last time ill ever write for him. idk i just saw a panel of him that was so sexy i lowkey didn't know how to act :(
by midnight, the station's already cleared of its workers. the sound of chatter, coffee machines and muffled voices through the walkies were now replaced by the sound of papers being flipped through and lone cars driving in the distance.
in the morning, your co-workers would be talking your ear off about whatever — recent heists, batman sightings, unsolved cases. for tonight, there's only silence, even while you weren't alone.
"commissioner," you slid him a cup of black coffee, his fuel for tonight.
the greying man looks up at you, his expression hidden behind the ceiling light reflecting on his glasses. "thanks, kid."
"don't call me that, jim" you scoffed amusedly, feeling annoyed with his constant reminder of your age. you weren't a kid; you were a grown adult who just so happened to be a rookie at the station.
"right." he looks up at you with a smirk, finding humour with how quickly you let the formalities drop. he relaxes, finally leaning away from his desk, resting against the worn-out leather bound office chair.
you decided to sit on the edge of his desk, taking a sip out of your own hot beverage. "what are you working on?" you ask, shuffling through the papers with one hand.
"arrest logs," he answered, letting out a tired sigh as he reached out for his coffee. "you should go home. it's getting late."
"and who's gonna keep you company?" you raised an eyebrow, playfully nudging his chair with the tip your shoe.
he broke out into another smile, one that makes the crows feet on the corner of his eyes deepen. "sweetheart, I've been doing this for thirty years. I can handle being alone." he chuckled, adjusting the sleeves rolled up his arms.
you don't hide the fact that your eyes wandered on his thick arms and the biceps underneath the plain white shirt. it was a sight he usually concealed by wearing his trench coat — a fashion decision you respected, but hated.
jim's lips curl into a bashful smile, a soft pink hue coloring his cheeks when he noticed your gaze. "c'mon, don't look at me like that," he huffs. annoyed, but not bothering to put in the effort to get away from you.
slowly, your fingers found his tie, loose after his constant movements throughout the day. you used it to pull him close— close enough for you to smell the scent of cigarette smoke on his clothes. "you don't have to be alone," you murmur, voice low and seductive enough to tease a divorced fifty-something year-old man. "I can keep you company tonight."
"jesus, sweetheart," he chuckled, taking off his glasses and slipping it in his shirt pocket. "trying to get us in trouble, huh?" your words fail as be stood up, placing his hands on your sides.
before you could even answer, his lips found your jaw, trailing down to your neck— pressing kisses there as the texture of his mustache tickled your sensitive skin. your arms immediately wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer for more.
you just hoped no one would walk into the office at this hour.
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