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The end of October rapidly had appeared upon Gotham City, giving cause to set aside a busy schedule for one night; Halloween had arrived.
Crisp, cool weather breezed its way through in the early afternoon as many residents haggardly ran about, doing some last-minute costume or candy shopping, helping set up parties for later that evening, or exchanging notes regarding the best routes to take their children trick or treating.
Best friends Rachel Roth and Kori Anders, semi-new inhabitants of this overly large and robust city, were among them.
“We could set a bowl outside of the apartment door,” Kori was saying as they worked their way through downtown. Festivities were in the air and the shop windows were as embracing as anyone, displaying funny skeletons, images of the silhouettes of witches riding broomsticks, black cats, jack-o-lanterns, and more.
The two friends had one mission in mind this late Saturday morning: find Raven an acceptable outfit for the Wayne Manor costume party tonight.
The widely celebrated annual event routinely made the front page of the Gotham Gazette, revealing a host of the best get-ups handpicked by the lord of the manor, Bruce Wayne-Kyle, and his coquettish wife, Selina.
To secure an invite was enviable: most people could only secure one by knowing being high up within Gotham’s societal ranks, or else a splendid worker for Wayne Enterprises.
It was further enviable because Gotham, with its constant spooky, near-grim tone, was a city that suggested the holiday of Halloween invented. Almost a polar opposite of where Rachel grew up and went to college, the bright and happy-go-lucky Jump City. Many residents cherished the holiday above all others.
“I’m not sure it matters, Kori. The only people who win are the ones who spent all year hand-making their costume,” Rachel said as they finally found a store with ample stock. She briefly thought of what she was told in the office a few weeks ago, that last year’s champion had been a black dragon with actual mechanically functioning wings.
Which must’ve been really annoying to skirt around at an indoor party, Rachel thought.
Her tall friend scoffed. “I don’t think we were ever going to win, Rae. I saw someone testing out the lower half of a centaur costume at the park while I was jogging the other day. This city takes Halloween serious.”
Rachel laughed as they entered the store. Costumes and festival decorations hung up in rows along the walls and shelves were half-full of candy buckets, creepy knickknacks, and large bags of candy. A worker, who was dressed up as Frankenstein and already helping a young couple about their age, waved and welcomed them.
“You’re not trying to dress me up as Tinker Bell, right?” Rachel shrewdly asked, looking around at the generic costumes on the walls.
“You’re dressing up as however you want,” Kori answered, though her tone was vague in Rachel’s opinion and left her feeling doubtful of that. They began looking around. Rachel wandered into a nearly all-black aisle full of ninja outfits, Dracula capes, and witch robes. She pulled one of these out.
“What about this?” Rachel called out. She looked at an image on the front showing off the design of it, pretty much merely being a black cloak thrown over whatever and a point, black hat. Simple and easy to the point.
Kori came over, her bright eyes falling immediately, Rachel’s suspicions confirmed.
“Or,” Kori shrugged suggestively as though it were optional, “you could pick something a little more… along the flattering lines?”
Rachel frowned. “You’re literally wearing his and hers Hogwarts robes.”
Rachel’s invite had been through Kori, who, in the six months since the college roommates had graduated and moved to Gotham City, met, befriended, and started to date Dick Grayson, the oldest Wayne heir. They’d collaborated a Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley set up weeks ago.
“That’s different,” Kori waved off, “we’re being cute. I want you to look cute.”
That threw Rachel off.
“Why?” she scrutinized, eyes squinting. Kori’s widened, but she held a plaintive face as possible. “It’s not as if everyone else…”
Rachel’s voice trailed off. Her eyes mirrored Kori’s in realization. Suddenly, she thrust the witch costume back onto the shelf.
“Nope!”
“Come onnn,” Kori wailed, following Rachel, who was attempting to leave the story. “You know you want to see him! Ya’ll hit it off so well!”
“I’ll hurt you,” Rachel grumbled darkly, but she stopped in her tracks, recalling that night.
She told herself it was one time. As casual as could be.
~
Three months ago Rachel had accompanied Kori out to a group dinner. It was a pretty snazzy place and the first time she was going to meet some of Dick’s other friends and family, so she’d practically begged Rachel to go with her.
There she’d met, among a batch of people who were surprisingly decent, him: Damian Wayne.
It was an infuriating encounter at first. Damian Wayne was well-off, brilliant, and entirely confident; those things did not go well together in an unhumbled soul. Rachel’s initial impression was that he very much enjoyed declaring himself, in some subtle way, that he was the smartest person in any given room. A (delicious) crook turned the corner of his mouth up whenever he said something that left others scratching their head.
Yes, it had been maddening at first.
But there was a lot to learn.
Once all the steaks and pasta, and cheesecake, and dessert wines had been cleared away, it was time to leave. One of Dick’s friends who’d been trying to catch her eye several times over dinner attempted to linger behind to talk to her further, so Rachel escaped into the fancy bathroom to buy time. Upon reemerging, she witnessed a somber scene while checking if the coast was clear.
A man was at the hostess counter discussing something, his frantic voice growing just loud enough for Rachel to overhear.
They were scrutinizing the man’s payment: it’d been declined. Rachel noticed the man glimpse over to a table and flash a brief smile. Rachel, involuntarily as she was caught in the sudden intimate moment, followed his gaze and saw a woman his age with stricken-looking eyes sitting with a small girl. It was evident by their clothing alone that this wasn’t the type of establishment the family frequented. Perhaps they’d been celebrating something, a bill went through while they ate, and took away their funds, Rachel thought as the man turned back to the hostess, grimacing painfully.
What Rachel did not notice was that someone else had lingered back.
Appearing almost literally out of nowhere, Damian surprised all three of them. The man started and the hostess’s surprised eyes quickly turned warm and alluring to the youngest Wayne heir.
Rachel saw Damian Wayne quickly filled in about the discrepancies and overheard him cover the family’s tab, plus ordering a small birthday cake of the young girl’s flavor of choice, which the man told him in a high-pitched voice of disbelief, to be sent to the table. Damian slid his card to the hostess and waved away the man’s gratitude, turned, and halted, seeing Rachel eavesdropping. With Damian tightening his eyes, they approached each other.
“That’s a nice thing you did,” Rachel told him.
Damian didn’t respond to that. “I thought you left with my brother’s latest girlfriend.”
“Kori,” Rachel emphasized, “looked like she wanted a minute alone with him to say goodnight.” And for some odd reason, she couldn’t explain, the rest of the truth spilled from Raven’s mouth. “And one of your other friends seemed like they were trying to corner me. I dove into the washroom to buy time.”
Damian Wayne rolled his eyes upwards. “Logan,” he said hopelessly. He studied Rachel, holding out his arm after a moment.
“It’s an easy way to avoid him,” Damian told her skeptical expression. Hesitantly, Rachel wrapped a hand around his bicep from underneath. She ignored the effects of his exercising that she felt.
When they left the restaurant and cascaded down the steps, Logan wasn’t anywhere to be found, but level with a car pulling up by the valet, Kori and Dick each lit up staring at them, causing Damian to groan under his breath.
Rachel sniggered.
“Rae,” Kori’s eyes danced, “I’m going to, uh, go back to the apartment with Dick. You think maybe-“
“I felt like ice cream anyway,” Rachel lied, having just had cheesecake and dessert wine, while Damian barely refrained from groaning again and Dick rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “I’ll catch an Uber there in a couple of hours.”
“That’s a lot of ice cream,” Damian said dryly. Rachel jabbed his side with her elbow.
How strange it was to already feel comfortable enough to do that. She’d thought him an overly vexing person not twenty minutes ago.
Kori got into Dick’s obsidian Mercedes and waved as they drove away. Next, an ostentatious McLaren just as dark pulled in. Rachel let go of Damian’s arm, but he didn’t move. She looked up at him glancing at her sideways.
“Would you like a ride?” he asked in courtesy. Rachel debated, then nodded.
“Sure.”
He opened the door for her rather than let the valet do so. Each avoided the other's eyes as she got in, still a little awkward.
It was tight and neat and Rachel had never been in a car like it, but it did very little to sway her. It was still just a car.
Damian slid into the driver’s seat and pulled the door down shut. The car vibrated pleasantly when he revved it, shaking Rachel to the bone. He peeled away pretty fast.
“I’m assuming you don’t actually want to eat ice cream for two hours,” Damian commented as he flashed down the downtown roads.
Rachel tilted her head his way. It struck her how handsome he was, with his jawline, neatly trimmed jet-black hair, and focused deep green eyes. Next, she was struck by how very alone they were.
“I-I’ve been meaning to go to a book store,” Rachel stammered. She hid her face by looking out the passenger window when he shot a quizzical look her way.
“Sure,” Damian said, “I know of one that’s still open at 10:30 on a Friday.”
Rachel couldn’t detect sarcasm, and he had no further statements of questions, so she sat there in silence for a few minutes until they pulled into a shop right in the heart of downtown. Mirroring Damian, Rachel popped up the passenger door (it felt weird not to push out), and rose out of the small vehicle.
It was a nearly deserted parking lot of a small tan bookshop with a green canopy and gold lettering on the front windows (‘Ripley’s Comics and Novels’) Rachel had passed by on her way to work, but never stopped in. Damian held the front door open and Rachel entered.
Tightly packed mahogany shelves with colorful novels were like a maze that filled the area. A clerk behind a counter near the door greeted them as they began to traverse the sections, talking in low voices.
Rachel recalled Damian telling her this was a great place to pick up everything from battered copies to expensive first editions. The back wall consisted of comic books. With everything squeezed in, it made walking around with someone incredibly intimate.
And thus the problem began.
Even though Rachel grabbed the latest novel in the xenomorph series, Alien: Phalanx, books were not the focus of the evening. For it was extremely difficult to not be hyper-aware of, when they talked in whispers, their breath touched the other’s skin. Their sides often touched as they walked, rubbing on one another. Rachel saw Damian’s jaw work furiously once and found it enrapturing.
When it came time to pay, he gently pulled the book from her hand. She was going to protest but was caught off guard at their hands brushing.
Damian paid and led the way out of the store, uplifting the McLaren’s passenger door for her again. This time, Rachel muttered her thanks.
“We didn’t kill a lot of time,” he said in a low murmur as they drove off.
It sounded like he was trying to control his breath.
“We can do whatever,” Rachel said, glancing at the time. 11:15.
Crap. She sounded the same way.
Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way his sharp eyes moved from her eyes to her lips.
Without rationally thinking about it, Rachel reached a hand over to his knee as he drove. Damian sort of stiffened, but didn’t refute it or seemed overly surprised- he was strongly feeling the effects of their night’s intimacy like she was.
“My place?” his strained voice questioned. He didn’t meet Rachel’s gaze, who was boldly looking at him while she rubbed his leg further and further up.
Rachel couldn’t explain even to herself what had gotten into her. She was never like this.
“Take us,” she breathed. Damian gripped the steering wheel tighter as he tried not to roll his eyes up slowly or take them off the road.
Damian stayed in a loft not far from where they were, in the heart of downtown’s highest residential area with the fancy shopping districts. A long rectangular building ten stories up with the skyscrapers of Gotham starting only a few blocks away, he drove them into a parking garage on the first floor into one of his designated spots.
As soon as he put it in park, he turned towards Rachel reaching out as she leaned in simultaneously.
Their lips met and it was fireworks. Rachel’s hand roamed to Damian’s inner thigh and began sliding up as they made out. His hand tightened in her hair and Rachel wondered if they were going to make it to his space. Perhaps the McLaren hood would do.
When his tongue pushed its way inside her mouth accompanied by his groan, she knew it would have to do.
Abandoning all pretense of what she wanted, Rachel shifted her hand and felt up Damian’s crotch. It was right there now, in her hand through his pants, as hard as could be. Harder than any one she’d ever felt. Rachel wasn’t proud of the noises she made into his mouth just then.
The kissing slowed as she rubbed him with the flat of her hand and fingers. Separating, Rachel almost purred at the half-lidded look in his eyes as he sat back in the driver’s seat to give her more room, mouth parted, lips glistening, breathing deeply as Rachel fumbled with his belt. She pulled it open. The zipper came down. She reached in.
“Oh, fuck,” Damian breathed, throwing his head back.
Rachel stared at it as she moved her wrapped hand up and down its length, readying it. Her breath was hot and heavy, just like his.
Damian’s arm was wrapped around Rachel. He leaned in and kissed her again as she kept it up, rubbing lower and lower on her back. As their tongues danced together again, he grabbed a handful of the bottom of her black skirt and pulled it up. She was glad for the cheeky underwear she wore as his hand began caressing her bottom, fingers teasing the hem of her panties.
Rachel squeezed him, and he shot another groan into her mouth. Her thumb rolling across the moistening head, she’d decided it was enough of the teasing; she ached.
Breaking them apart again, Rachel shot herself back, burning at the image of Damian watching her, stroking himself lightly in her hand’s absence. Curling her knees up, Rachel lifted up her skirt, then quickly pulled her underwear down, and off. Damian’s jaw lowered as they fell to the floor of his car.
She climbed into his lap, throwing her right knee on the outside of his left leg, her left kept to the outside of his right. Dark purple-blue eyes stared down into emeralds with gold as she lowered herself. Still holding himself upright, Damian moved his head across her folds before he entered, which was very audible and pleasing.
And then Rachel took him in and was unable to stop the moan that escaped. She wrapped her arms around his neck and head. Damian’s hands were under her skirt, on her thighs.
Rachel felt like she was going to finish within minutes of jostling around up and down. It was a perfect angle for her and Damian kept kissing, sucking her neck, his hands roaming between her thighs and her ass under her skirt. She liked that he was so handsy. There came a time when Rachel ground on him rather than go up and down which made Damian groan loudly in her ear, a calling that he would lose it quickly as well. Rachel kept that up, more intensely, putting their foreheads together and, bolder than she would’ve ever thought of herself, gave him a clear directive.
“Cum for me.”
Hands tightly gripping her bottom, mouth panting on hers, Damian obliged. Rachel almost simultaneously followed suit, as if his big shots hit her g-spot directly, causing more fireworks.
They sat there for many moments, catching their breaths, with him still in her. Neither wanted to let the other one go. Eventually, however reluctantly, Rachel slid off Damian’s lap. They watched each other, chests rising up and down.
Still very hot.
Damian’s emerald gaze dropped to Rachel’s panties still on his floorboard and shot back up to her face.
“My place?”
Round 2?
Biting her lip, Rachel nodded. They pushed the car doors on their respective sides up and exited the baptized vehicle.
They walk-ran across the open garage, each a little sweaty, Rachel feeling exposed without wearing any underwear under her skirt, which danced with the speed they zipped at. Getting to a bronze double-doored elevator, Damian slapped the button for the top floor and turned to her immediately, directing her chin to tilt up with a hand. Rachel stood on her tip-toes (he was about a head taller than she was) and met his lips again as they waited. Feeling daring as they made out, Rachel caressed the pants of his crotch area, though they weren’t in any kind of cover. Moaning into her mouth, Damian returned a tightened hold in her hair again, causing Rachel to gasp back. She felt him hardening and stroked him through his pants.
The elevator dinged and open. Rachel’s hand shot away from his crotch in case there were people coming down to their vehicles, but the coast was clear. They hurried inside.
Rachel slumped back, heaving, against the back wall as the elevator doors closed again. Damian turned towards her. Staring at each other hungrily, he sauntered over slowly. She wanted him to lean down, put their foreheads together, and make out again, but Damian stopped just short, when their hips were less than six inches from touching. Glancing down at her waist, then briefly to her face before going back down again, Damian, almost gently, pinched the hem of her skirt and lifted it well up to her waist.
Rachel blushed furiously as he openly gazed down at her flat as they passed floor four. Unexpectedly, he licked the tips of the fingers from his free hand and lowered them between her legs.
Oh no! she realized.
His fingers massaged her. She could hear them as much as she felt them (which was to the point of her thighs shaking severely). Then, skillfully at an angle where his thumb could synchronically rub her clit, he smoothly slid two inside her slowly. Rachel’s breath hitched, trying not to outright moan in this public elevator. Finally, Damian leaned down and pressed their foreheads together just like Rachel had wanted. Their hot breathing intertwined as he fingered her.
When the elevator dinged again, Rachel jumped, causing an uncomfortable sensation.
She was glued to Damian’s arm. He took a keycard out of his pocket while Rachel looked back and forth down the hallway (it looked like the tenth floor had an east and west wing with separate residences) to make sure no one was seeing what was clearly happening. With hot urgency, Damian pushed in, tugging Rachel behind him.
It was an amazing flat, not that she took time to appreciate it. Not at all how she’d picture a Wayne’s residence, who always wore black suits and drove sleek black cars.
It was almost zen-ful. Wide-plank wooden floors, an open warm-colored kitchen, calming aesthetics, comfortable furniture paired with a large brushed painting of a tree in matcha green, it was the sort of place Rachel would have liked to stay in.
Rachel didn’t make a lot of time to do anything other than glimpse around.
In the privacy and free space provided, she had no problem with Damian pulling her shirt up over her head, tossing it to the kitchen counter as they made their way to his bedroom.
More clothes (his this time) fell off as they pushed the door open. It had a magnificent view of Gotham bay through floor-to-ceiling windows. She didn’t care, presently. Her back dropped on his beg, legs curled up. He could probably see up her skirt as he stood there at the front of the bed undoing his pants. He dropped them to the floor and she purred, spreading her legs further at the hip in response to Damian Wayne completely naked, watching her. He had himself in one hand.
“You are divine,” he swore. Rachel’s response was crooking a finger seductively. Damian dove on top of her, kissing at every bit of her skin, hands roaming the crooks of her body.
Rachel’s bra became unhooked and detached itself, sliding to the floor beside his bed. She wasn’t even sure which of them did that, but suddenly his hands were on her bare breasts, taking her tit into his mouth, sucking. She wrapped her arms around him again, gasping his name. The thought of wanting him to suck harder crossed her mind. She might’ve said it out loud, she wasn’t sure.
He pulled her skirt down her legs and off her ankles, looking up all the while as he dropped that too beside the bed.
This time when he laid over her, she helped to angle their hips. He slid it in her and they both gasped, moaned. Rachel’s nails drug across Damian’s muscular back as he pumped.
It was somehow the time of her life as they went again. Even though it was just sex.
After, Rachel laid beside him, extremely tired. Damian’s emeralds were barely visible as his eyelids threatened to shut entirely. It was a beautiful afterglow.
Until her stomach rumbled.
Damian huffed a quiet laugh, too tired to make much noise. Rachel blushed, smiling softly, looking over at him. He was certainly very nearly out.
Damian’s last hushed words were, “Feel free to help yourself…” and then quieter, “to anything…” quieter still, “before…”
He was out. Rachel stared at the peaceful face.
Before? What?
The glow was quickly fading to nothingness. Rachel’s thought turned somber and realistic.
Before… she got out?
Of course, Rachel thought. She turned her head to stare up at the ceiling. Of course, that’s what he was going to say. Of course, that’s what this was.
He’d seduced her and she’d made it easy for him, maybe even a little more exciting than usual. Now it was time to leave before he woke up to have breakfast alone and do it all over again.
Rachel, you fool…
His light snoring would’ve been cute a moment ago, but turned repugnant in her ears presently. Twirling her legs off the bed, she shakily stood. Regaining her balance, Rachel cast a half-dejected, half-despising look down upon him.
Time to go.
She picked her skirt up and pulled it on in the living room, where she found her inconsiderably disposed of shirt, which had landed half on the counter and half in the sink so it was a little wet. Picking her phone up, she used the Uber app to order a ride as she dressed.
It was almost one in the morning now. They’d been fucking for an hour. Rachel wasn’t surprised to see a missed call from Kori, probably letting her know the apartment was devoid of boys now.
Realizing that she’d been glaring at her screen, Rachel sighed, found control, mastering herself. Calming her mind.
She’d fucked Damian Wayne and it was gloriously satisfying.
The higher you are, the farther you fall.
Rachel snapped that thought away, shaking her head as she made it outside the building, waiting for her ride. She would not let despair run the thoughts of her head in any form.
His peaceful sleeping face entered them again, however.
Frowning, Rachel looked up to see her Uber arrive. She greeted them and got in the backseat, taking off again.
Fifteen minutes later, she was trudging up the steps to her and Kori’s apartment. It was past one-thirty.
“I’m home,” Rachel called out, entering. Kori was still awake, watching tv in their shared living room. Her head had whipped around when Rachel opened the door.
“Rae!” she squealed, getting up. “I was wondering what you’d gotten into.”
Rachel tried not to frown. She’d been deeply hoping that Kori thought she fell asleep reading at the ice cream shop. No part of her even remotely wanted to discuss how she’d just been pumped-and-dumped.
But there Kori was, standing there expectantly in a tank top and her underwear, looking curious as all hell. Something about Rachel’s appearance caused her eyes to go wider.
“He dropped me off for ice cream and I walked to the nearest bookstore,” Rachel made up. She realized right after she said this that her Alien: Phalanx novel was still in his damn McLaren. “Then I walked back and read for a while. I didn’t even know what time it was… How was-“ Rachel paused, seeing Kori’s lips pucker thin, as if ‘LYING’ was plastered on Rachel’s forehead. She frowned. “What?”
“Oh, Rae,” Kori then said slowly, her tone changing to motherly-hen sweet. “You’re not wearing your bra anymore…”
Oh, fucking hell.