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Crane hadn’t been in this particular room before, but it didn’t matter. The private rooms of the club all looked the same, a king bed with waterproof sheets, a table covered in sex toys, an assortment of hooks for ropes and straps, the usual. This place wasn’t infamous for its set up, it was infamous for its complete anonymity. Masks were required to enter, and nobody used their real name, not even to register appointments. Because of that, and the steep entry fee, this place attracted the rich and powerful, those in Gotham that weren’t satisfied with normal orgies or sex clubs. He’d seen them, parading around in masquerade masks like they were part of a satanic orgy, giggling to each other at the sweaty leather clad flesh around them, content to watch and stroke themselves instead of getting their hands dirty. Crane often wondered how many important people would “mysteriously go missing” if he gassed the place.
Laying back on the bed, he remembered the first time he’d stepped into this place. He’d been coming here for about a year, but it had taken much longer to convince himself to actually step foot through the door. Crane didn’t really see a need for sex, much less secret underground BDSM clubs, but he was curious, so he went. The air had been thick and hot, scented with perfumes and sweat. Every room was filled with bodies curling into each other, convolving in pain and pleasure. He’d watched as a woman was whipped until she bled, a man choked until he was blue, and a figure all in latex hoisted aloft by thick rope. He’d felt it then, the thrill that went up his spine when he was running through the streets of Gotham, pursued by the Batman. It was the same shiver he got when he was thrown around by Gotham’s Knight, the satisfying jolt from hitting pavement, the adrenalin from a broken bone. But while broken bones left him limping and sore, the faces of the club were blissful, relieved, even peaceful. He kept coming back.
Crane knew he needed to be careful here. If someone recognized him he would be banned and arrested, and even worse, all of Gotham would know how perverted he was. He had decided on a full latex body suit, complete with full head coverage. There were holes for his eyes and mouth, but he made sure his face was covered at all times. He’d made an exception for his hands, cutting the fingers tips off so he could actually feel his partners. The crotch also had a zipper built in for ease of access. He’s never admit it, but Crane liked how tight the latex was. The way it clung to his skin gave him a strange sense of protection, while also being able to feel everything that was done to him. On top of the suit he usually wore a mask, a crow mask made of real feathers from his birds. It had tinted lenses built into it so his eye color was harder to see. He’d made it himself, of course, but it reduced his peripheral vision significantly. He never met with the same person twice either, being very careful not to get too close with anyone. If he did, someone might recognize him from his voice or his mannerisms, and he couldn’t have that.
The door across the room creaked open and his partner for the night stepped in. Black leather boots climbed her calves, cutting off just above the knee. She had thick thighs and full hips, the soft looking skin only broken by delicate lace underwear. Her ample chest was cupped in the same fabric, leaving just enough to the imagination to tease anyone looking. Sturdy shoulders and an elegant neck held up what he assumed would be a face to match the body, but it was obscured by a black masquerade mask. Her monotone outfit was contrasted by a mane of red hair cascading freely down her back. Her eyes flick around the room and land on him, locking her piercing eyes with his.
The woman's lips parted in a smile and she advanced towards him, almost like she was hunting; but instead of pouncing she held out a hand. “Rose” she said, in a silky voice that cut through the air like a cleaver. Crane took it, giving a firm shake, “Rook”.
“Like the chess piece or the bird?” Rose asked, letting go of his hand. “Like the bird,” Crane responded, watching her. From this distance her mask looked like it was made of twisting wood. She reached out and cupped his jaw, pressing a thumb to his lower lip. Crane tried not to shiver at the contact, and opened his mouth for her, letting her thumb rest just under his teeth. “Good~” she purred, and just like that Crane found himself pushed flat onto the bed.
She was deceptively strong, pinning his arms above his head in a rush of motion he wasn’t expecting. Not that he would have told her to stop. Excitement pulsed through him as she slowly raked her hands down his arms, past his shoulder, across his chest, and then lower. Crane stayed perfectly still as he felt his heartbeat speed up and his blood start rushing lower. What was she going to do? Would it hurt? His excitement wavered when she got up, springs creaking as she slid off the bed. His confused frown was met with a smile. “Pick a safeword” she crooned, running her hands over the table of toys. The excitement bubbled back up.
“Apple” he decided, watching her pick up a pair of handcuffs. She smiled and walked back to the bed, elegant and certain. Crane shivered again when she grabbed his wrists. He hadn’t come to the club in months, hadn’t been touched in months, so his body jumped at the contact. Rose yanked him sharply up the bed like he weighed nothing, earning a hiss as she pushed his arms up. In one smooth motion she slid the cuffs around the metal slats in the bed frame, locking Crane’s arms above his head. A stab of panic cut through his giddy excitement. Maybe he’d underestimated his partner, he could be in real danger- no, he’s just being paranoid. Besides, a light tug told him the cuffs were cheap plastic, easily broken.
Rose leaned over him again, her soft breasts threatening to spill out of their flimsy prisons. Her confident smile split into an almost malicious grin as she noticed Crane’s eyes wandering over her chest. “Did you want to touch me? You should have said something” she teased, starting to drift down Crane’s body again. “I didn’t want to ruin the moment” he replied, eyes locked on her. She ghosted down his body, bright red hair spilling onto his latex. Something about how she moved gave Crane a second of deja vu, but his train of thought was derailed when she settled between his legs.
“Excited already? I haven’t even started” Rose laughed, brushing over the outline of his erection. Her partner just shifted a bit, watching her through his tinted mask. The woman narrows her eyes, “or are you going to be difficult?~” It was a challenge, and Crane doesn’t back down from challenges. He just pursed his thin lips as Rose leaned forward slowly. Without warning she sunk her teeth into the latex coated flesh of his pelvis. `
His hips jerked without his input, too startled to stop them, but Rose gripped them and forced them down. “Bad bird” she scolded, readjusting between his thighs. She bit again, on the other hip this time, but her hands kept him from jerking again. As her teeth dug into his latex for the third time Crane felt the world slip away. He felt lightheaded, stress and worry melting into the sensation of teeth. His nerves, already fried from caffeine and insomnia, sparked like firecrackers with every bite, threatening to set his whole nervous system on fire. A small part of him wished the latex wasn’t there at all, and her teeth could leave real marks, maybe even blood. He shivered involuntarily at the thought of bloody bite marks covering his thighs, the movement earning a chuckle from his partner.
“Masochist~” Rose purred, clearly enjoying watching him squirm. Crane made the mistake of looking down at her, meeting her eyes. They were so intense, watching his movements, his body, his breath, just him. It made him breathe a little faster. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, the woman took the zipper between his legs in her teeth and pulled. She hummed contently as he sprung free, fully erect. Her intense gaze shifted to examine it, sending a strange shiver down Crane’s spine. He wasn’t unusually nervous during this sort of thing, he wasn’t usually nervous under any circumstances, but as she sized him up, he felt himself getting nervous. Nervous of what? He was the Master of Fear, he had no reason to be nervous about a random woman in a controlled environment! He-!
Crane’s train of thoughts stopped abruptly when he felt soft lips on his dick. The redhead between his legs kissed agonizingly slowly, up his length. It was gentle, so light and gentle, just brushing her lips against him. Need curled in his stomach as she barely kissed his tip. It had been so intense a few minutes ago, why was she- oh. In a second she opened her mouth and swallowed him whole, like a snake devouring its prey. Crane fought not to cry out, suddenly engulfed in warmth. Hands slammed down on his hips again, gripping him so hard he was sure he’d have bruised.
The whiplash from light touches to this sent Crane reeling. He tried to get his breath under control but she didn’t stop, pulling fully up, almost releasing him, and plunging back down over and over and over until he couldn’t think. He felt heat pool in his gut, already white hot. His pulse thundered in his ear and he tried to tell her to slow down but a pathetic noise bubbled up instead. He clamped his mouth shut abruptly, stifling any more moans. He would not make a fool of himself, even with his hands cuffed above his head in a sex dungeon with a stranger. Still, she didn’t stop, her hair spilling over his hips as she bobs up and down. She must not have a gag reflex, Crane thought deliriously as pleasure coursed up his body. He was breathing hard now, his muscles clenching and unclenching under her relentless movement. He was too close already, he shouldn’t have taken such a long break from the club, he didn’t want it to be over yet but he was so close-
Suddenly Rose pulled off him, leaving him cold and twitching in the air. His hips jerked, searching for friction, just a little bit, but she held him still. Crane growled softly as he felt his orgasm slip away from him. “Oh honey” Rose cooed, stroking the curve of his hip, smirking at his shiver. Crane narrowed his eyes at her from the top of the bed, but need was pulsing through him deliciously. The woman hovered over him, her breath hot on his exposed skin. She locked her electrifying green eyes on him again and pounced, taking him whole again.
The anger of having his release ripped away from him was eclipsed by a wave of heat as she started her relentless movements again. Crane’s chest strained against his skin tight suit, his lungs struggling to keep up with his racing heart. She was so deliberate in her movements, perfectly squeezing her lips around him, pressing her tongue against the underside of his dick, her nose grazing his stomach every time she went down. His eyes started to roll back into his head, arcing slightly off the bed with the intensity of the fire in his gut. A groan wrenched itself out of him and he squeezed his eyes shut, ready for the climax and then-
His groan turned into a strangled cry as she left him again, seconds from going over the edge. His hips bucked uselessly against nothing, his eyes opening to meet her cruel style. He felt like an animal, his mind reeling, sweating, fighting the desperation that clawed through his mind. His head felt foggy, trying not to whine or beg, or make a noise that would betray his thoughts. The goddesses smooth voice slices through his hazy mind, “What do you want, baby?” The pet name made him shiver, but he refused to speak.
“We could do this all day,” she purred, “I’ll bring you closer and closer, but you’ll never finish.” Crane’s breath picks up again, arousal spiking at the threat. “I’ll keep you whining, begging, never satisfied,” she continued, her eyes glinting, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
Crane tried to shake his head but Rose gripped his dick and started stroking fast, dragging a moan, a real moan, from Crane’s throat. “Talk to me, Rook” she demanded, sliding up his body so they’re face to face, still stroking him. “I-” Crane bit his tongue to stop the please from spilling out. “Your hands- your mouth- fuck-” he spit out between gasps, “you’re good, you’re very good-” He couldn’t think straight, not with his orgasm building again, setting his skin on fire. Mixed with it was the cold fear that she would snatch it away again, but it also made his stomach do somersaults. What if she actually followed through on her threat? What if he spent the rest of his life being worked to the edge by this ethereal demon, giving in fully to his animal nature, completely lost in lust?
The thought was too much, he couldn’t take it. Gritting his teeth, he prepared to have his release ripped away from him, but Rose stroked harder. Crane’s eyes rolled back fully and he let his mouth hang open, his climax crashing around him, ripping away every other thought. The world went still. This was it, the emptiness that kept him coming back, silencing every raging part of him. He slumped on the bed, swimming in the afterglow. However, Rose wasn’t done with him.
As he reveled in the calmness, Crane felt his partner brush down his body again. He jerked as she grabbed him again, her grip harsh against his sensitive flesh. “You think this is over just because you got off?” she smiled deviously, “how selfish~”. Still in his orgasmic stupor, Crane couldn’t hold back a yep as she started to stroke him. It felt like needles pricking his member wherever she touched, it felt like a rug burn. Was he still hard? He honestly couldn’t tell, his mind a blend of pain and fog. “I don’t-” he tried, slurring his words a little, “I don’t think I can get it up again”.
“Yes you can” Rose purred, “you’re a good bird, you can do it”. Crane felt vaguely condescended, but he wasn’t in a position to argue. His mind flashed briefly to the safeword, but the woman interjected. “You’re going to get nice and hard for me, and then I’m going to ride you until I cum, or your cock breaks.” Crane swallowed. His brain was mostly back, bringing with it the worries and stress of life, and he desperately wanted to get back to that hazy state of need. The idea of this beautiful woman coming apart on top of him was the perfect image to get him back in the mood. Even better, the idea of unraveling under her, torn to moaning pieces, made his gut twist in the best way.
Rose’s strokes still felt like sandpaper, but he didn’t stop her. She purred something he didn’t catch and brushed her other hand up his side gently, leaning over his torso. He could feel the breath on his latex, hyper aware of each of her fingertips on his body. The soft, almost loving touches combined with the burning stroking made his head spin. This woman was a walking contradiction, harsh and gentle, soft and hard, she walked the line so perfectly. It was some of the best sex he’d ever had, and he knew he’d be thinking about it for weeks, maybe months. She gripped him a little harder, making him squirm. He was fully hard again by now, a miracle at his age.
“See? I knew you could do it” she chuckled. Crane tried to respond with something witty, but all that came out was a strangled whine. His mind was rapidly leaving again. His partner chuckled again, triumphant, and elegantly straddled his legs. He stared up at her, watching her pull her lace aside and raise up to line their hips up. One hand braced on his stomach, she brought herself down just enough to press his tip against her entrance. The next few seconds felt like eternity. His dick, already overstimulated, throbbed with how close she was.
Slowly, painfully slowly, Rose pushed down, taking him inch by excruciating inch. Crane let his mouth hang open, his raw nerves screaming. He wasn’t sure if he was in pain or so turned on it hurt, but all he could think about was the woman above him. Her hips settled against him and she let out a soft moan. And then she started moving. If Rose’s blowjob set him on fire, her hips made him feel like he was thrown into a furnace. He couldn’t help it, he moaned, his hips jerking by their own free will.
The woman riding him made a startled sound, taken off guard by the thrust. “Stay still” she ordered, her voice breathy, “or I’ll make you”. Crane moaned again, too overwhelmed to control himself, not caring if he was babbling or begging or making a fool of himself anymore. He was sweating under his suit, flexing his wrists against the cuffs, unable to control his twitching body. His dick still burned but it was a good burn, an electrifying edge to the whole experience. Rose said something else, but he didn’t process the words until he felt her lean over.
Crane’s heart nearly stopped when his partner wrapped her hands around his throat. Oh yes, oh God yes, he thought, not sure if he actually said it out loud or not. It didn’t matter, she was squeezing and his pulse was pounding in his ears. She released him after a few seconds and he gasped, arcing up into her. “Oh honey~” he thought he heard Rose purr, and she gripped his throat again. He felt high, his heart pounding, lungs clawing for air, their hips slapping together faster, Rose’s moans drowning out his own. She let go again, and Crane whined as he gasped for air. He was sure his face was purple under the latex and feathers, and he might have bruises later, but he didn’t care.
He felt like he was dying in the best way, being eaten alive by all the sensations, surging towards another release. “Please” he begged, not recognising his own ragged voice, “harder, I’m- I’m close.” He wasn’t Jonathan Crane anymore, he wasn’t master of anything, he was just a writhing mess chasing an urge. Rose let out an equally needy sound and her hands found his neck again, squeezing. He knew he would have bruises now, but the thought only turned him on more.
As she rode him harder, chasing her own release, Rose gripped his throat tighter. He jerked under her, harder than before, and made a strangled noise, part choke and part moan. She let go quickly, letting him suck in air, but his breath caught in his throat and he started coughing. Still lost in the haze of pleasure, Crane tried to get in enough air to stay cautious. Gasping and choking, he tried to roll onto his stomach but his bound hands and his partner's weight stopped him. She’d stopped moving, hands hovering over him in genuine concern that broke through her cocky persona. Crane tried to tell her he was fine, that she should keep going, but his words were swallowed by his hacking.
The panic set in for real when she started grabbing at his face. He thrashed harder, trying to make her stop, but he couldn’t. He flinched as his mask was ripped off and thrown to the side. Her soft hands dug under the latex hood, pushing and pulling to free his nose, and the rest of his face by consequence. No, Crane tried to scream but it was too late. His face scrunched up at the sudden exposure, trying to hide in his elbow as the coughing finally died down.
When Crane glanced up at Rose again, she was staring at him in absolute horror. Then, without warning, she punched him in the face. “What the hell?” Crane hissed, internally groaning at the taste of fresh copper in his mouth. He wasn’t that ugly, right? The woman kept staring at him with a mix of disgust and amusement and slowly reached up to pull her own mask off.
Crane’s heart dropped like a stone. No no, fuck no, this had to be a nightmare. That’s why she felt so familiar. I’m fucking moran, Crane groaned, looking up at Pamela Isley, one of the most dangerous people in Gotham. And she had just spent an hour learning how much of a pervert he was. He was ruined. The two just stared at each other for a long moment, neither sure what to say. Ivy spoke first, “I would have thought you were a dom.” Crane wanted to die. He could lie, say he had been pretending and knew it was her all along, but she was too smart for that. Instead he kept watching her.
She was too strong for him to take in a fair fight, but maybe he could catch her off guard and make a run for it. She made no attempt to move from his lap, her expression flickering between amusement and hatred. Oh God he was still inside of her. This could not possibly get any worse. Unfortunately she decided to hit him again.
Crane was ready for the impact this time, but it still sent a jolt through his body. His face flushed and he realized with mounting horror that he was still very much aroused. He tried to look threatening, straightening his back and making his face go blank, but Ivy’s smirk told him it wasn’t working. His face was still flushed, his hair messy and plastered to his forehead with sweat, and to top it all off his nose was starting to bleed from the punch. Crane felt helpless. He could break the cuffs easily enough, but then what? She could pin him easily, and he knew she knew it too.
Ivy’s strong hand gripped his jaw, forcing it up, earning a grunt. “Masochist” she said, an insult this time. Crane grit his teeth but didn’t respond. “You’d be cute like this if it wasn’t, well, you” she continued, “even if you do make a good submissive bitch.” Anger and shame flared through Crane, easily overriding his rationality. In one motion he yanked sharply at the handcuffs, easily breaking the flimsy chain, and shoved her off him. Their bodies made an obscene squelching noise as they separated, and she yelped, almost thrown off the bed. He rolled the other direction, hitting the floor and scrambling to his feet. Ivy reacted quickly, lunging after him, just barely missing him as he sprinted to the other side of the bed. The two eyed each other, tense, waiting for the other to make a move.
“You really aren’t threatening with your dick out” Ivy purred, and Crane narrowed his eyes. “I thought you didn’t like men,” he spat back.
“I don’t like dominant men,” she corrected, and Crane felt sick with embarrassment. How could he be so stupid??? He never should have gone to the club at all, he should have just shut down his curiosity before any of this started, before he found out how twisted his mind actually was. Worse, the adrenaline of being caught, cornered by one of his colleagues, was actually doing something for him. The way she watched him, like she was ready to rip him apart, sent a stick thrill down his body. Part of him wanted to let her, to get back on the bed and let her do whatever she wanted with him, even if it meant certain death. Maybe he was sick enough to deserve it.
Reluctantly, Crane straightened, getting out of his defensive crouch. Letting her chase him around the room would be a waste of time, and he probably wouldn’t make it out alive. “Doctor Isley-” he began, trying to slip into his usual professionalism, but he was cut off with a sharp laugh.
“Really? You think you can talk your way out of this? Look at yourself!” Ivy laughed. Crane was painfully aware how he looked, but he kept his face calm. “I’m sure we can work out a deal, doctor,” he mused, clasping his hands behind his back.
“A deal?” she chuckled, making Crane’s shame flair again, “a deal for what?”
“For your silence” he growled through gritted teeth. “Oh honey, that’s what you’re worried about?” Ivy cooed, leaning on her hip. Crane wanted to leap across the bed and rip that smug smile off her face, but he stayed still. “If you wanted this to be our little secret, you just had to ask” she purred, sickly sweet.
Slowly, deliberately, so he could see what she was doing, Ivy swayed over to him. She put a hand on his jaw, making him flinch. “You’ve been so good to me after all~” He felt his face flush and cursed himself for his weakness. He was better than this. Her hand traveled down his neck and rested on his shoulder. “Get on your knees” she purred, her breath hot on his neck as she leaned in. “No” he bit back, keeping his voice as flat as possible.
“You want me to keep quiet don’t you?” she teased, pressing on him a little. Crane swallowed. She was so close to him again, and he couldn’t think straight. Maybe I’m drugged, he thought as he carefully sank to the floor. But he knew deep down that if he was, he wouldn’t even be asking the question.
Ivy reached out and put her hand on his head, brushing through his mangled hair. Crane flinched away from the surprisingly gentle gesture, earning a frown from the woman above him. “There’s the Doctor Crane I know,” she hummed, fisting her hand in his hair, holding him still, “you don’t want anything if it doesn’t hurt, hm?” Crane set his jaw and glared up at her, ignoring the thrill of her towering over him.
The botanist sighed and let his head go, walking backwards towards the bed. “Come” she ordered, sitting on the edge of the mattress. Crane swallowed and crawled forward, trying to be dignified. He stopped a few inches from her knees, looking up at her. She looked radiant like this, the artificial light catching in her hair like flames. He wished he didn’t know it was her, that it was Rose in front of him again, not Ivy. Rose could force him to his knees, tell him to beg, treat him like the dog he was and he wouldn’t care. Ivy was too dangerous to give into, even if that danger was intoxicating. Still, he let her hook a leg around his shoulder and pull him towards his body.
“You look better like this” Ivy smirked, watching the man between her thighs. He clenched his jaw again. Arguing with her would be pointless, and staying silent would throw a wrench in her gloating. She rolled her eyes and grabbed his hair again, pulling him closer to her hips. “Show me what you can do, doctor,” she hummed, “or I’ll leave you here tied up for the cops to find~”
Crane felt heat pooling in his gut at the threat. What was wrong with him? He imagined Ivy forcing his arms and legs together, maybe even gagging him, and he felt his groin burn. Slowly, carefully, he presses his lips against her inner thigh, watching her reaction. Her face shifted slightly, and she rested a hand on his head again, almost encouraging. Crane kissed closer to her underwear, brushing his rough lips over her hip, pausing in front of the lace. He looked up at her again, cursing himself for waiting for permission, and Ivy pulled the fabric back to reveal herself.
She was beautiful, of course she was. Soft pink folds, moist and delicate, stared back at him. Crane might have stared longer in any other situation, memorized her shape, but he had a job to do. He leaned forward and put his mouth over her, running his tongue over her until he found the nub he was looking for. Her grip tightened on his hair as he started a slow pattern, conformation he’d found the right spot. She tasted sweet, actually sweet, like a half ripe fruit. Probably her mutation, Crane mused, leaning into the taste. Her smell filled his nose, musky and citrusy, and her thighs closed around his head, holding him still. She was all around him, taking over his senses and blocking out everything else.
He closed his eyes, speeding up a little, earning a gasp. His brain was fogging up again, too consumed with her to focus on anything else. A moan floated down from above, sending a shiver down his spine. I did that, he thought dumbly, pressing into her more. “Oh, good bird,” she moaned, her thighs tightening around him. Crane made a small noise before he could stop himself. He wished he hated this as much as he should, but he was too overwhelmed to lie to himself. Her praise made him dizzy in the best way.
She clawed through his hair, and pushed her hips into him, smothering him more. He felt lightheaded, breathing in the hot air between her thighs. She was making beautiful noises, rolling her hips into him, using his face to chase her release. He could tell she was close by the way her muscles clenched and she gripped his hair like she was trying to scalp him. Crane relaxed his shoulders and let himself rock with her movements, completely giving himself over to the crush of her thighs. His own need throbbed in his stomach but he kept his hands still, not quite sure why and too distracted to question it.
Ivy’s moans built in a beautiful chorus of sounds, reaching the edge of orgasm with a breathy wail before diving over the edge. She dug into Crane’s scalp, her legs constricting around him as she rode his tongue through the waves. He licked her through it, drawing out soft gasps, following the movement of her bucking hips. His jaw was starting to hurt and he couldn’t breathe properly, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was the goddess above him, and how he’d made her cum.
After a few long moments Ivy relaxed, opening her thighs and letting go of his head. He leaned back on his knees, his eyes hazy and unfocused, his hair sticking up in places, his lips wet and swollen. “Not bad”, Ivy panted, brushing her own hair out of her face. He watched her, almost breathing as hard as she was. She looked much less threatening like this, cheeks flushed a beautiful pink and leaning on a hand to keep herself upright. Cute, Crane thought, and then mentally slapped himself. He could not allow himself to be swept up in her charms, no matter how good of a dom she was.
The woman on the bed swept her eyes over him, taking in his disheveled state. Her eyes drifted down his body, settling on his crotch. “You’re still hard? Impressive.” she mused. Crane looked down at himself, oh God he was. His swollen cock almost looked purple, throbbing painfully. That shouldn’t be possible, especially for an older man like him. Maybe she did something to me, he thought, panicking slightly.
Ivy leaned forward, her smug smile returning. “You’re really into this, hm?” she grinned, running a finger along his jaw. He breathed out shakily and tried to piece together a response that wouldn’t make him sound like a drooling whore, but he still felt lightheaded from her thighs and his brain refused to work. Ivy chuckled, soft and low, and reached for his dick.
Crane felt his mind go blank. This was so dangerous, to be delirious in front of Poison Ivy, to be so overwhelmed, but all he could focus on was her touch. Her strokes were firm and even, electrocuting him every time she reached the lip and pushed down again. The dull ache that had stuck with him through her orgasm was now a blazing burn, and all he could do was push his hips up and let her touch him.
His release came fast, much faster then he was expecting, tearing through him before he could register it. With a vulgar moan he collapsed backwards, thick white liquid splashing onto his latex and his partner’s hand. The blissful calm enveloped him again, smothering reality. He felt like his bones had been turned to jello, but he didn’t care anymore. He barely registered the arms around him, lifting him onto the bed like he weighed nothing. He knew he would hate himself for this later, but right now he was too tired. The door clicked and then he was alone, sticky and panting, letting himself sit in the haze he craved so much.