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Description

     “I am telling you now, Bruce. That is not the correct spelling!” you argued, pointing at the board. It was one of the few nights that Bruce wasn’t around fighting crime. He was enjoying a night in, beating you in Scrabble of all games. You were an English major and you were fairly certain that maneuver was spelt differently than he had it. The spelling on the board played off of your word, hitting both a double and a triple square. Yes, you were angry he was up by thirty points. But this was because he cheated.

    He smirked, watching your tantrum in full force. You were his partner of four years, and friend for over seven. You prided yourself not only on writing but research and decryption. You helped him many times and you never asked much for it. So it was a surprise when he asked you out formally. Then you had been Bruce’s confidant and lover. Only Alfred knew more than you, but you were okay with that. "It's not correct! I refuse to accept it." You huffed, settling back into the couch. He was on the chair on the other side of the coffee table, wine glasses next to the board.

    Taking a sip of your wine, you leaned back and thought very hard. It did give you a lot of room to work with, but the spelling just wasn’t right. “All right, (First). How about a bet?” You eyed him across the table, a pout on your lips. “I’ll let you look up the spelling. If I’m right, and I will be, we spend the rest of the night in bed.” A blush crept up your neck and into your face. It wasn’t as if you were a virgin. Bruce and you were very intimate when he was feeling up to it. Just the insinuations his tone left made you hot and red. “If I’m wrong, which I won’t be, you choose what you want.”

There was no absolute way he could be right. "Fine. When I am right, you will be my slave for the rest of the night!" you stated, pointing at him. Bruce nodded, settling back in his chair. Fishing out your phone, you began to look with a pure smug grin on your lips. Each link you passed made the look fall faster and faster. Bruce counted to ten in his head before motioning towards the phone. "Bruce, you are a cheater! No more British spellings! It's all Alfred's fault!" You tossed your phone aside, placing your head in your hands.

Chuckling at your reaction, he was quick to move. Hopping the table, he tossed you on your back. Squeaking, you barely had time to adjust before he was in between your legs. Grasping your hands, he hoisted them above your head while his head dipped to your neck. You gasped, a little of your midriff hitting the cool air. It did nothing to cool the fire he ignited in your belly. Kissing your neck, he chuckled a little. “Cheating? No, (First). I used a proper spelling to get what I want. And that is you, beneath me.”

Description

     “I am telling you now, Bruce. That is not the correct spelling!” you argued, pointing at the board. It was one of the few nights that Bruce wasn’t around fighting crime. He was enjoying a night in, beating you in Scrabble of all games. You were an English major and you were fairly certain that maneuver was spelt differently than he had it. The spelling on the board played off of your word, hitting both a double and a triple square. Yes, you were angry he was up by thirty points. But this was because he cheated.

    He smirked, watching your tantrum in full force. You were his partner of four years, and friend for over seven. You prided yourself not only on writing but research and decryption. You helped him many times and you never asked much for it. So it was a surprise when he asked you out formally. Then you had been Bruce’s confidant and lover. Only Alfred knew more than you, but you were okay with that. "It's not correct! I refuse to accept it." You huffed, settling back into the couch. He was on the chair on the other side of the coffee table, wine glasses next to the board.

    Taking a sip of your wine, you leaned back and thought very hard. It did give you a lot of room to work with, but the spelling just wasn’t right. “All right, (First). How about a bet?” You eyed him across the table, a pout on your lips. “I’ll let you look up the spelling. If I’m right, and I will be, we spend the rest of the night in bed.” A blush crept up your neck and into your face. It wasn’t as if you were a virgin. Bruce and you were very intimate when he was feeling up to it. Just the insinuations his tone left made you hot and red. “If I’m wrong, which I won’t be, you choose what you want.”

There was no absolute way he could be right. "Fine. When I am right, you will be my slave for the rest of the night!" you stated, pointing at him. Bruce nodded, settling back in his chair. Fishing out your phone, you began to look with a pure smug grin on your lips. Each link you passed made the look fall faster and faster. Bruce counted to ten in his head before motioning towards the phone. "Bruce, you are a cheater! No more British spellings! It's all Alfred's fault!" You tossed your phone aside, placing your head in your hands.

Chuckling at your reaction, he was quick to move. Hopping the table, he tossed you on your back. Squeaking, you barely had time to adjust before he was in between your legs. Grasping your hands, he hoisted them above your head while his head dipped to your neck. You gasped, a little of your midriff hitting the cool air. It did nothing to cool the fire he ignited in your belly. Kissing your neck, he chuckled a little. “Cheating? No, (First). I used a proper spelling to get what I want. And that is you, beneath me.”