written by destinyawakened
It had only been a week --one week since Jim Gordon had met Batman in a lonely alley way for a very strange rendez-vous. After the events of the past week, it didn't seem so strange after all. Batman had been trying to tell him he needed help, and Gordon had flat out refused to see it. All this, followed by his chance meeting with Bruce Wayne the following day at the cemetery, where he learned a secret he initially regretted learning, though he found it was growing on him. Why hadn't Bruce Wayne's desperation been so obvious? The man was being stalked by an old child hood friend who was more than a little jealous of the billionaire's “carefree” life style. Gordon wasn't a mind reader, though. Bruce could have come right out and asked for the help he needed. Couldn't he? </font>
Gordon shook his head. No, he and Bruce were a lot alike; they were both too stubborn to admit when they were wrong, let alone when they needed help. And under most circumstances Bruce didn't need the help. He was very capable of holding his own, despite what people thought they knew about him. He had been able to get out of going to Arkham. Gordon still didn't know how Bruce did it or what had to be done to accomplish the task. Gordon had been so sure that once Bruce took that cowl off he was going to be cursed for life and that he'd never get to see him again. Gordon really wanted to know what it was Bruce had planned, done, figured out, whatever it was... but all Bruce kept saying on the matter was that 'it was done', 'taken care of' and to 'stop worrying'. It had started to get old, so he finally dropped the subject all together.
When it came time to let Bruce go, they had to let him walk out as Batman. Since Bruce had only revealed his identity to Gordon, Mayor Garcia and Stephens, it was the only way to go about it with out everyone else in the police force becoming suspicious. Though, keeping everyone out of the interrogation room for almost two days was pretty difficult in itself and caused even more suspicion than it really should have. People were so anxious to know who Batman really was that the job of keeping them all out was probably the most tiring thing Gordon had done in weeks. Thank God for Stephens.
And now Gordon had one more thing on his plate, one more thing that he had to fill out paperwork for: Batman meetings. It was the agreement, after all, if the city dropped criminal charges against Batman. He was surprised Bruce had agreed to work with the police and his patrols, but after seeing the guidelines on paper, he knew Bruce had gotten his way: once a week meetings discussing patrols and possible criminal activities. It was exactly what they had been doing for the past year, except now Gordon had to take notes and write up a report. Bruce found this hilarious but promised to help him the best he could. Gordon some how doubted it and knew the playboy would figure out some scheme to get himself out of typing duty.
Then there was the issue of Doctor Thomas Elliot. There had been no word on him since Wednesday evening, when he took Gordon hostage. He had disappeared: his house was sold to someone anonymous, his housekeeper had no idea where he went, and Arkham said he just never showed up for work again. It left Gordon feeling a little... well, scared. Scared for Bruce's life, scared for his own life, scared for anyone who even crossed paths with Elliot. Gordon didn't get the whole story out of Bruce, as he was sure there wasn't too much else to add, but Gordon had an idea that the man was a little touched. Gordon could hope that it was the last they had seen of Doctor Elliot, but he was sure the man would show up unexpectedly and at the worse possible time. That was just how things worked when you lived in the city of Gotham; if things could go wrong, they would.
The city lights spread out below him grew brighter as the night fell over Gotham. He had never seen a view quite like the one from Bruce's penthouse. It was amazing and tragic all at the same time. Beautiful was more than the right word ,but devastating seemed to fit well, too. Gordon was always so torn when it came to his city. One minute he was in love with her and the next he wanted nothing but to put her out of her misery forever. He leaned a little over the rail of the balcony, and let the wind blow around him, making him shiver. The winter weather had definitely set in now, and he had left his coat inside. He wrapped his arms around himself.
A hand rested on his shoulder, and this time Gordon didn't jump. He was getting use to this, comfortable. He should have been afraid of it, but at the same time he was happy for it. Since Barbara left, he hadn't had anyone to share with on a personal level, and Gordon felt he had a year's worth of emotional baggage built up in him; not that he would let all out on Bruce, but it would be nice to finally have someone to talk intimately with. Bruce came around beside him, leaning against the bars of the balcony. He handed Gordon a mug.
“Alfred said you looked cold,” Bruce said with a sheepish grin. Gordon took the mug from Bruce, who then clasped his hands together in front of him, watching Gordon.
“What are you staring at?” Gordon asked as he sipped at the mug of hot coffee. It was far from what Stephens made for him, but he couldn't hold Alfred accountable for not knowing how he took his coffee; they had just started being friends, after all.
Bruce bit at his lower lip and shook his head. Gordon found that he loved the shy playboy much better than the dense one. Shy was much more becoming of Bruce; Gordon found it endearing and cute. Cute, he thought. The last time he used that word to describe anything was with his kids. What the hell was Bruce doing to him? Sentimental, Gordon? No, no... He made Bruce promise to keep anything he said to himself; he didn't need news of his soft side spreading all over Gotham.
Gordon watched Bruce bite at his lip again but this time he was looking out over the city. “I really miss this view when I'm at Wayne Manor.” he said softly.
“Do you even live at the manor?” Gordon asked as he took another sip of coffee.
Bruce gave him a sideways glance of mock-annoyance; “Yes. I thought you'd like it better here.”
Gordon laughed. “You might have been right.”
Bruce reached out, took the mug from Gordon's hand and placed it on a near-by table. Gordon started to protest, but Bruce had already replaced the mug with his hands, entwining their fingers. “You keep running from me,” Bruce muttered, nearly under his breath. He was slowly moving closer to Gordon, their clothes just barely touching. Bruce's gaze was definite and strong, and Gordon felt the urge to look away, uncomfortable. But this was Bruce, no one else.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Gordon replied. He was sure he actually knew what Bruce meant. Gordon would be the first to admit he felt awkward and unsure when it came to taking their intimacy to the next step. Though he had a feeling Bruce was bound to change that about him. He wasn't sure he minded. Since Bruce had suddenly come into his life, he'd felt need nagging at him every time he glanced at the playboy. Gordon would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about taking advantage of the other man.
“Yes, you do,” Bruce breathed. He leaned in to Gordon and licked at his lips the way he had that night a week ago, when he was in the Batsuit, before Gordon knew the truth. The gesture made him shiver and Bruce noticed, letting go of his hands and wrapping his arms tightly around Gordon. He was surprised at first but then let his body relax in the firm hug, allowing his own arms to slither their way around Bruce, one hand in his hair. God, how Gordon loved Bruce's hair.
Their lips met for soft, subtle kisses; barely touching, fluttering. Gordon tugged at Bruce's bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and nibbling gently on it, then a little harder when Bruce moaned his approval. Gordon let his tongue escape his lips in search of Bruce's, pushing their lips harder together as if trying to seal a gap. Gordon broke free first, gently giving the playboy a push up against the railings. Bruce dropped his hands to the rails to balance himself while Gordon nuzzled his nose into Bruce's neck – the thought of payback on his mind -- and traced a long, wet stripe with his tongue from Bruce's clavicle, up his neck, to his ear, where he placed a wet kiss and sighed deeply. He felt Bruce wriggle under him and try to push him off and gain back his control. Gordon pulled out a pair of hand cuffs from his pocket. He reached around Bruce, cuffing one wrist, looping the chain around the bar and then cuffing his other wrist securely.
Bruce gave Gordon an amused gaze that at first suggested he wasn't too sure about the turn of events, but then his eyes lightened and suggested Gordon keep going. Gordon moved in close to Bruce again,leaning his head down and biting softly at his neck, slowly easing his way around the buttons on Bruce's dress shirt. He kissed down the other man's neck, following the trail of undone buttons until he reached the last one and pushed Bruce's shirt over his shoulders and down to his wrists. He took a few moments to take in the well-built man; even the present wounds and scars were attractive on him. Every inch of Gordon began to crawl with heat, and he kissed Bruce passionately, letting his fingers slides down his chest, over his abdomen and resting them on the waistband of his pants. Gordon slowly undid Bruce's fly, noticing the sudden increase in breathing. Bruce had that lusty gaze in his eyes that made Gordon want to do it even more now. God, how had he become entangled in the mess that was the Bruce Wayne?
Slowly, Gordon kissed back down Bruce's chest, avoiding the more intense wounds, stopping at his waist band before sliding his pants and his boxers to the floor, taking the man's penis in his mouth. Gordon felt a little awkward at first, as he'd never done this before, but the moans and gasps escaping Bruce's mouth gave him the push to go on. He slid his tongue around the tip, working his hand up and down the shaft, bobbing his head with it. Bruce tried to push his hips into Gordon's face, and Gordon stopped what he was doing. He looked up at the other man who groaned out in almost displeasure, his eyes glazed over and pleading with Gordon to continue. He did. Long fluid strokes, tongue teasing effortlessly. Bruce voiced his pleasure with gasps and a few breathless cries of“Jim!” Gordon felt the other man's body stiffen, so he took hold of Bruce's hips and pulled him in closer. Bruce let out a winded moan as Gordon felt the hot stickiness of his lover's semen shoot down throat. He'd thought he might hate it, even gag, but he found he didn't mind at all. He pulled back, wiping at his mustache and looking up at Bruce.
Bruce was panting, and staring at Gordon as if he was about to eat him whole. “My turn.”
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