Sultry Selina
Batman approached the cat lair as he had many times before. He removed a glove and placed the pad of his index finger on the reader, waited three seconds, and then slipped the Bat-pick into the lock. Forty seconds later, he was heading through an entrance hall just narrow enough to subject an intruder to a nasty spray of knockout gas or a paralyzing jolt of electricity if this were the kind of hideout that employed such traps, and finally reaching the main…
He stopped, subconscious tactical analysis of the physical space suspended and his body stunned into immobility by a much different kind of electricity as the sight registered:
Catwoman… stretched out on her side, on a leopard print throw… toying with a lethal looking dagger, rubbing the sharp tip of the blade against the sharper edge of her claw… Her tongue creeping out between her lips and licking the corner of her mouth… while she fixed him with a low, ravenous glare, like the predator she was eying prey…
“Dangerous toy you’ve got there,” he observed dryly.
She laid it aside brusquely and stood, an almost hypnotic rhythm in the sway of her hips as she approached with that unmistakably feline gait. Usually the movement was deliberately seductive… tonight, it was hungry.
“It is,” she said, a voice of hot, liquid want pouring over the words. “Dangerous… but I can handle it… I’m the only one who can.”
It was clear she meant him. It was also clear this was not the time to bring up the Iceberg situation. Electricity pulsed through his body as the tip of her claw traced the lower scallop of the bat emblem. Then her head tipped back, lips parted, in an unfathomable merging of cat and woman. She looked exactly like a cat exhibiting the openmouthed, flared nostril Flehmen reaction in response to prey; she looked exactly like a woman tilting her head to invite a kiss from her lover, she looked… she looked… ooooh.
Batman suppressed a wince as the tips of her claws poked through the crevice where the body armor met the belt, and he moved reflexively to grab her wrist and move it clear—but not before feeling the scrape of cold metal grazing the skin of his side. Instead of the usual hiss whenever he grabbed her that way, she let out a low, rumbling laugh that sent a shiver up his spine, around his neck, across his shoulder and straight down his chest into his gut… a husky laugh that spoke clearly as a single word: mine.
A strange, once-familiar paralysis spread like ice through his brain. He should say… something or… do something… not just stand there like a statue while this wild, untamable creature stood there taunting him with her brazen criminal felinity.
“Ahh-I…” he managed stupidly—when she pounced.
Cat-Tales: Vault
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Tags: catwoman, selina kyle, balent costume, claws