Gone To Gotham

Japan had a different feel than Gotham. American cities, European, they all seemed to have a little Gotham in them. Shadows. Cold. But Tokyo was so distorted that it was hard for Bruce to get a grip on it.

In a way, it was comforting. There was an emphasis on honor, discipline, safety, cleanliness—a welcome relief to the grunginess and corruption of Gotham, like clean water after a day of humidity and sweat. But he could never be truly comfortable here, among the smell of cherry blossoms and the shine of neon and the bustling people who all behaved themselves. There was the animal side to consider. The anger. The unrestrained ferocity. It would never have a place here.

A breeze kicked up, stripping the pink petals from the lines of trees on either side of him. Bruce turned, sensing something, and felt the crisp scent and soft touch of a handful of petals pelting his face. His eyes blinked shut and opened to see Betsy Braddock standing there.

“Sorry,” she said, though unapologetically, blowing a last cherry blossom off of her palm. It whizzed through the air, brushing against Bruce’s lips before being snatched away by the wind, leaving a lingering impression of taste and scent tinting his senses as he looked at Betsy.

Betsy was many things. A model, an X-Man, a businesswoman in charge of WayneTech’s Japanese division, and one of the highest ranking members of the Bat Clan with the skills to back it up. Despite all this, Bruce was hard-pressed not to consider her beauty Betsy’s most impressive attribute.

O-Chiyo Elizabeth Braddock had aged extremely well, going seemingly effortlessly from the petite schoolgirl he had known as a young man to a tall, trimly muscled warrior woman, attired in the form-fitting uniform she’d worn as an X-Men, which kept her athleticism as free as it did her beauty. Over it, she wore a kimono, undone, but ready to be tied up over her brief, immodest costume. He supposed she had wanted to make a good impression on him. It was hard for him to imagine her making a negative one.

Her appearance reflected her Eurasian heritage. Her full breasts and long limbs were Anglo, while her almond eyes and the glacial angularity of her beautifully symmetrical features showed her Japanese ancestry, as did the way she held herself, which bespoke her clear proficiency in Eastern martial arts. 

Long years of friendship conveyed nearly everything between them in a moment of shared eye contact. He saw her desire for him and she saw his, the mutual hunger flowing between them as well as permission, for him to be the hunter and for Betsy to play his prey. He came up to her and despite her acquiescence, the forcefulness of his kiss startled her, passion swelling in her breast as she felt his want as words, as sight, as even her telepathy could never convey—only flesh against flesh.

“Bruce.” She spoke coyly, her English accent indicating her flawless mastery of the second language, and all the more impressive for how calmly she spoke after he’d felt the heat rise in her like a furnace being stoked.. “What brings you to the Hida?”

Bruce glanced around. He couldn’t detect any of her fellow ninjas in hiding. Given how close relations with her clan were, he was still unsure if this indicated he was being given the courtesy of not being staked out in case of treachery, or if they respected him so much they sent their very best, whose stealth was beyond even him.

“Old home week,” Bruce joked.

A smile flickered on Betsy’s face. “The Bat Clan won’t care for Occidental humor.”

“You know as well as I do why I’m here. Jiro Osamu has gone missing while investigating a Yakuza operation. He’s an ally of mine. I want your help to find him.”

“My help?” Betsy asked, an eyebrow quirked. “Or the help of my clan?”

“Yours.”

“I’m hardly the best they have.”

“You’re the one I trust,” Bruce insisted. “And even after all these years, I doubt they appreciate just how good you are.”

They had met in their late teens, both of them seeking the training of the Bat Clan of Hida. Both had had a natural affinity for the martial arts, but to the more traditionalist elements of the clan, a gaijin was as bad as a half-breed. They were forced to prove themselves twice as much as anyone else, and in that shared injustice, they’d found commonality. Bruce had been slighted by an uncaring universe that took his parents from him, Betsy by a world that alternately hated her for being too white, too Asian, or being a mutant at all.

Just as they entered their twenties, Bruce lost his virginity to her.

***

At the age of twenty-one, Betsy walked into the onsen bathhouse attached to the Bat Clan’s mountaintop dojo. At this time of night, it was abandoned, and she showed no inhibition in shedding her kimono. Beneath, her body was lithe and naked, with all the coltish beauty and voluptuous curves Bruce would admire in the present day. 

Picking her way along the slick rocks and into the frothing water, Betsy felt sweat glisten on her tawny skin. She breathed in deep lungfuls of the invigorating mountain air, perfumed by the hot spring’s natural immaculacy, and her breasts heaved, making Betsy tautly aware of how large they had grown in her womanhood.

She heard the shoji at the entrance whisper open and closed, and wondered who would dishonor himself to invade her sanctum. Not even her harshest critics had dared to offend her in such a way.

Uncaring of her own nudity, she raised herself up on a boulder below the water, and saw the twenty-year-old Bruce stalking down the path to the pool of water. He still wore the gi he trained in, and stank of the musk of sweat, which glimmered brightly on his bruised and battered skin. Unlike Betsy, who was not taken seriously as a woman, Bruce’s manhood made him the target of the most brutal training, each sparring match a life or death struggle. But whereas Betsy would’ve been as stooped and weak as an old man if she bore his injuries, Bruce didn’t even seem to notice the pain as he brought himself down to the recessed pool.

“I saw you doing your katas today,” he said, his voice worn raw. A bruise across his trachea showed that a blow to the throat must have curtailed his speech. 

“Bruce,” Betsy said, almost not noticing her anger at his intrusion turning to concern. “You should be lying down, I should get you some ice…”

“You were fantastic,” Bruce interrupted her, looking past her, seeing the graceful ballet of her performing the motions of deadly violence. He could replicate her movements, but never with the dancer’s elegance which she possessed. “The way you moved, the way you looked, your fingers, your toes curling—even the way you sweated… I love you. I’m proud to know you and I want you. Here. Right now.”

“Bruce,” she sighed. “Have you ever even—“

“No,” he answered unreservedly. “I haven’t wanted to. I do now.”

“And do you always get what you want?” Betsy asked, not sure if she was teasing or questioning or even flirting…

“Do you?” Bruce returned, looking her over. She was in the water up to the waist, the inky black of her wet hair falling over her breasts, but it was by no means a modest situation for a woman raised in Japan. Yet, she felt no shame. Not with him.

“Yes,” Betsy said.

With long, even strides she stepped out of the water, ascending up the roughhewn steps to be level with him. The steam from the waters hung about them, all except for the few feet between them, cutting them off from the rest of the world. Betsy could feel every drop of water falling off her. Bruce’s eyes took in each one greedily, like he was hoarding pearls of infinite worth. Yet she still felt no shame. Only—her cheeks warmed—a kind of cherishing. He was looking upon her like a beautiful sunrise, happy to be permitted the sight, but with no expectation of ownership.

And yet, just under the surface, there was something dangerous. Burning cold, but burning none the less. She could see why the masters were so doubtful of his training. For all his will, all his discipline, there was an innate rage that anyone would be hard-pressed to master. None of the others had it, none of them had to work so hard to restrain it. 

It burned hot now.

Bruce kissed her. He was a little overenthusiastic, a little clumsy, but he didn’t rush. There was actually a little timidity, a fear of his own aggression, as he forced himself to slow and savor her. His hands roved over her body, discovering her, memorizing her from the plumpness of her breasts to the leanness of her sparse frame. The way he molded his hands to her breasts delighted Betsy, as he seemed to electrify every nerve at once, pushing her breasts together to make her feel the sensuousness of her own body, then tightening his grip to drive her hardening nipples against the palms of his hands. Then his hands were gone, on her cheeks again, exploring once more the pristine symmetry of her face as he kissed her.

Betsy opened up the vee of his training uniform, baring his muscular chest before pressing herself against him, her bare breasts rubbing against his broad pectorals. She ran her hands under his gi, around his back, caressing his glutes and the strong muscles of his back, his shoulders. She lifted her knee and rubbed her thigh against his groin, a warmly leaden bulge in his pants which she stimulated mercilessly. His hunger grew, howling in him, his heart beating so hard that Betsy could hear it, feel it like thunder in the stormcloud of his chest. The embrace grew more passionate, the fire burned hotter, Bruce pulling Betsy against him like he meant to crush her into his chest. She pushed her groin flat against his hip, letting him feel her warmth and a viscous wetness that did not come from the pool she’d been immersed in. Bruce groaned, even deeper in his chest than his earthquake of a heartbeat, and she felt muscles tense and throb all over him, a symphony of readiness and anticipation. She reached down to his crotch, as hungry as he was, and felt the threatening heft of his member through his cotton pants, like some deadly weapon inside its scabbard. She felt out his hardness, all of his impossible length, and Bruce moaned like a thunderhead breaking into rainfall.

“You have to stop,” he husked out, his voice guttering like an old engine. “You’ll make me go off—“

“That’s okay. Let it happen,” Betsy urged softly. “Get it out and then we can really enjoy ourselves…”

She reached down under his bludgeoning shaft and felt his bloated balls, throbbing hard, throbbing even harder after she gently squeezed them.

“Hhhhngggh!” Bruce strained out, trembling as a steaming surge of cum boiled inside his scrotum, ready to get out of his member even as it stayed trapped inside his pants.

“Let it all out,” Betsy said, fingers stroking his balls, helped along by the softness of the cotton she was reaching through. “Show me how much you can give me, then I’ll see if I can make you come that hard the second time.”

Bruce shuddered as his cum rushed through the length of his manhood, blooming heat following it to his exploding cockhead. He couldn’t help it. And after his first ejaculation, what difference did it make? He trembled as jet after jet of his thick hot cum pumped out into the crotch of his pants and swamped the thick mass of pubic hair covering his groin.

“Oh my God,” Betsy breathed, astonished despite herself. She hadn’t known guys could even store that much. Had he never masturbated or could that possibly be an average ejaculation for him? Both seemed equally impossible.

Still, it hardly mattered at the moment. Her nimble fingers undid his obi. He stood there, swaying on his feet like a punch-drunk man as she slid away his cum-soaked shitabaki. Then she swallowed deeply, more than a little impressed as well as slightly nervous. Bruce was a big man, with no end of self-confidence, so she’d never thought he had anything to overcompensate for, but his cock was huge as it bobbed between his thighs. A good eight inches long, and it was only half-hard, surely diminished by the volume of his ejaculation. Betsy couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel as it forcefully pushed through her tightly resisting entrance. Which would she feel more, pain or pleasure? With a member that immense going inside her, making her feel so many things, would there even be a difference anymore? Maybe it would all just be… intensity.

She got down on her knees, her feet pushing out behind her, toes dipping into the warm waters over the rim of the pool. “Just like I promised. I’m gonna lick you clean and get you hard again.”

“Chh!” he snorted as her tongue flicked over his dripping cockhead. She licked the sides of his manhood, and up the underside, down the top. Then she delved into the thick, dark hair at the base of his cock for creamy kisses of his ensnared cum. She tongued them like a kitten licking up spilled milk.

“Hhhhhn,” Bruce sighed. 

All he was wearing now was the jacket of his gi, the uwagi, hanging open to either side of the heaving engine of his chest. He shrugged it off and tossed it aside, totally naked as Betsy stirred the smaller drops of cum with her tongue, smearing them against his groin and then kissing them up with tightly drawn lips.

“Mmmmmmm,” Betsy purred, the kitten getting its cream.

Bruce felt stirring, flickering sensations going through his shaft. The same stabbing lust he had felt seeing Betsy that morning. As intense as what he’d felt when he saw her naked. It sizzled through the numb, deadened flesh of his member, waking it up more tender than ever. He put his hands on Betsy’s head, each big hand able to encompass her entire skull, and his fingers flickered through her long unbound hair as he held her up to his groin.

“Suck my cock,” he groaned.

“In time,” Betsy said. “First I have to clean my plate…”

And her tongue traveled his shaft again. She’d need to lubricate it a lot if she hoped to fit it inside her cunt. She’d never sucked a man’s cock before, but the thought of having Bruce’s long, stiff manhood between her lips truly excited her. 

She took his eight inches into her mouth and sucked on it, sliding it in and out of her mouth, making it wet and glistening with her saliva. She was getting more excited by the moment. She loved sucking Bruce’s cock. It tasted good to her, all dripping with come, and she wished that she could get every single inch of it into her mouth, no matter how impossible it seemed. And she could tell that Bruce was enjoying it, moaning away and stroking her hair lovingly.

“Yes, Betsy, that feels so damn good!” Bruce groaned as he stood there looking down at this naked woman worshipping his cock with her hot mouth, his callused hands running through her soft hair. “Get it nice and clean—nice and clean for your nice, clean cunt…”

He wasn’t stroking her hair anymore, he was holding onto it tightly, fucking his member into her mouth, hard, harder, harder—it hurt a little, having him pulling her hair against the impacts of his cock pistoning into her mouth, but Betsy was no stranger to pain. This made her even more excited.

Suddenly he pumped too hard, on the verge of coming, gasping in a huge gulp of air as his grip slipped on her wet hair, it slicked out from between his fingers, and a plunging thrust knocked Betsy back onto her ass. She looked up at him, shocked and amazed by the size of his erection as it loomed over her. It must’ve been in her throat, at that length. It must’ve been about to go down into her chest.

“Let’s fuck,” Bruce said, breathing harshly as he recovered his wits, though it seemed impossible to dispel his lust. “Right here, in the water. I want to fuck you right now and be the first man to ever have you, be inside you—make you come.”

Betsy appeared to consider it. Turning her back on him, she strode from stone to stone until her toes dipped into the water, her feet flattening against on solid ground, the water dividing and rippling as she glided through it. Onto a submerged boulder, ghosting out of view under a foot of water. She lowered herself down and crossed her legs on top of the rock, staring at Bruce expectantly.

“What is the American expression?” she asked him. “’The water’s fine.’”

Bruce followed her into the steaming water, big feet slapping through it, big bursts of water that his footsteps displaced. With Betsy cross-legged, she was at waist height, seeing the throbbing in his member now that she hadn’t seen before. Her psychic abilities weren’t particularly developed, but she doubted she needed them to know what he was thinking. Of fucking her mouth again, of filling it with cum, of how he would enjoy that. And how much more he would enjoy the prize between her legs.

“We’re going to have a good time,” Bruce said, kneeling down across from Betty. Not cross-legged. More like an adherent ready to bow to her. “You’re not going to be a virgin tonight and neither am I. I’m going to fuck you and you’re going to love it. I’m sure. If this is what you want.”

Betsy eased her weight back. She extended her hands behind herself, supporting her body as she set herself down on her back. The water embracing her, covering all but her face and her breasts and her knees as she sprawled out in Bruce’s shadow. She felt the soft flicker of her hair as it drifted underwater, brushing against her shoulders. She saw Bruce move forward as she had fallen backward, getting onto his hands and knees to bring himself over her. His cockhead traced through the water as he crawled forward. She spread her legs, ready to have Bruce lower himself onto her. Into her. 

“You be sure this is what you want,” Betsy said. She smirked at him challengingly; if he’d thought he would get a submissive little geisha, just because her mother had been Japanese… “You’d better come for my cunt as hard as you did for my hand. You’d better fill me full. You’d better leave me stuffed.”

Bruce grinned back at her. “Hope you enjoyed closing your legs while you had the chance.”

Betsy ducked her head back, immersing herself underwater, filling her mouth full and then coming up to blow a stream of water into his face. Bruce laughed unexpectedly and wiped his face with his hand and then he was on top of her, kissing her, his hungry tongue deep in her sweet young mouth, his body bearing down on her silky smooth flesh.

I want to be gaping open, Betsy continued in psi-speak, thinking to herself, but unable to stop her feverish mind from thinking to him too. I want to feel it for days—I don’t want to ever forget I was fucked.

She was growing more and more excited, amazed by the feel of Bruce’s tongue fitting into her mouth. His hands were on her breasts, stroking, squeezing, his fingers pinching her nipples.

“God, that feels so good—“ she moaned when he finally brought his lips away from hers.

“You haven’t felt anything yet,” Bruce panted back to her. “I want your tits now, Betsy. I need them.”

He dropped his head to her chest, licking and sucking his way over her cleavage, drawing his excited tongue across her nipples. Betsy sighed and arched her back, offering them up to him, and his sucking kisses landed on her nipples with a harsh heat Betsy couldn’t believe felt so good. She writhed, lying there on the floor, sending sloshing ripples through the water she was immersed on. She couldn’t help herself. It felt wonderful, having his hungry mouth on her breasts. She needed to know how much better it would feel to have his cock inside her.

“I can’t wait any longer!” Betsy moaned, spreading her legs wide until they were projecting out to either side of Bruce, like she was doing the splits, showing off her incredible flexibility. “I want you to fuck me! Let me have your cock! Put it in my cunt! Fuck me!”

“It’ll hurt,” Bruce warned, aligning himself on top of her.

Betsy grinned ferally. “They don’t train us to be gentle.”

He thrust into her, trying to go a little at a time, but unable to stop himself as the impossible tightness of her cunt enveloped him. Bruce ended up giving her six inches, all at once, barely stopping himself from plunging to the bottom of her sex. Betsy gaped. She’d lost her hymen long ago in all the intensive training, but that didn’t mean she was prepared for the size, the length, the sheer engorgement of his prick. The pain flared up inside her, as bracing as a hard slap, and she instinctively tried to pull away from him, but Bruce was equally instinctively drawn to the seething pressure of her cunt. His hands dug into her ass like metal vises, pulling her tight against him as his cock bulled into her. Betsy began to scream as her pussy stretched around him, but Bruce covered her mouth with his and silenced her with the sheer passion of his kiss. When it ended, she was moaning in pleasure, not pain.

“More,” she groaned, shivering as jagged little spikes of pain from her throbbing cunt reminded her of just how big he is, just how good it felt, like reverse oases in a wide expanse of sheer delight. “Don’t hold back. Put it all in my cunt. I want it all…”

“It’ll hurt,” Bruce cautioned her again, a sympathetic look in his eye as his lust gave way to concern. Betsy could’ve laughed; how appropriate was it that his animalism had finally given way to ninja discipline, here, with her? She’d tamed the savage beast and all she’d had to do was spread her legs. “There’s… much more.”

“There’d better be. It hurt before, but now it just feels good. It’ll feel even better when it’s all inside me—when I know I’ve taken it all.”

Bruce did as she asked, feeding himself into her inch by inch, this time able to maintain his discipline and hold to the same steady pace. Betsy clenched and gasped as he entered her—more and more and more—little tremors going through her body as she became his ever more fully. The pain was indescribable, but she was trained to endure anything. It was the pleasure… the jagged, overheated, cutting pleasure… that she was unprepared for. It was like nothing she had ever felt before. She was molding to him, fitting herself to his cock, her cunt clenching tighter and tighter as if in rebellion against this never-ending impalement.

“That’s it, that’s good,” Bruce said soothingly to her, stroking her hair as he had while she’d blown him, when all the power had been hers—it felt like a million years ago and it shocked Betsy to think that this had all happened in one night. “We’re doing fine, Betsy. You’ve got about eight inches of hard cock inside you, and you’re still breathing, aren’t you? There’s just a little more to go. It’ll hurt some, but not for long. Just a few little pumps and then it’ll feel good. Relax. Don’t tense up. Just… take it.” 

He exhaled gratifyingly as his cock bottomed out, up to the hilt in her widespread pussy. Betsy looked down in disbelief to see not a trace of his manhood, just his muscular loins against hers, the widely stretched lips of her labia kissing his groin.

“Oh, Bruce,” Betsy sighed. She felt a little silly now with her legs jutting out to the sides. She brought them in, wrapped her arms around his broad body, brought her legs in against his flanks, her warm thighs and soft hands surrounding him. “It’s… all in.”

“Yes,” Bruce said, a small smile playing on his stoic face. “All of it.”

“I can take it.”

“You can. You did.”

She smiled. The pain was dulling, but a bittersweet tinge of it was still there, giving spice to the throbbing pleasure she felt in being clenched around him, having him fill her utterly, her tautly stretched pussy able to feel every inch of his manhood from the throbbing veins to the heated drops of precum issuing from the tip.

“So fuck me,” she said.

Bruce reared up a little, building up a running start—fresh waves of pain as her tightly drawn cunt felt him withdrawing—the agonizingly poised arrangement of their bodies shifting, shifting—the anticipation building as she knew he would return, knew it would be so much harder this time…

“Bruce, please,” she said huskily, her voice labored with anticipation.

He thrust back into her, all at once, and her world shrunk to how full and deep and fast he had impaled her. Betsy twisted her head to the side, as if trying to get away from the shock of pain she felt, and saw a ripple in the water from their bodies coming together, a deceptively gentle swell that swung outward and deflected off the edges of the pool and came back to lap at their joined flesh.

“God,” she moaned, not in a pained voice, but in one flushed with desire.

Bruce could hold back no longer. It was like her pleasure had given him permission, like she’d waved a red flag in front of a bull. He fucked her, his long stiff member going in and out of her tight cunt, as hard as he could, as fast as he could, every inch of it, over and over again.

Betsy’s eyes rolled back in her head. It hadn’t taken long for the pain to go away. Which was good, because she didn’t think she could’ve stood the overwhelming pain much longer. Anymore than she could now take how good it felt to have his stiff prick pistoning inside her. But she would. She had to. She couldn’t let it end.

Betsy grabbed his bare ass, pulling desperately at him even as her wet hands slid off his wet flesh. She was helping him fuck her, she was trying to force him to keep fucking her against the barest hint that he would stop. Then she was just holding on as he fucked her in a roiling frenzy of frothing water that whipped out from their pistoning coitus.

“Yes, Bruce, it’s so good! God, it’s so good!” Betsy moaned, awed to discover she was still feeling twinges of delicious pain as he delved into her. Only half-conscious at this point, she wondered if he was still managing to stretch her out or if her pussy was just too small to truly take his massive endowment, if there would always be a hint of pain stabbing into the all-encompassing pleasure she felt. “I wish you could fuck me forever!”

“So do I!” Bruce groaned. “But I don’t think—I can hold back anymore—here it is, Betsy… oh, godfuckingdammit!”

He kept on fucking her, burying his stiffness into her all the way to the base of his groin as he shot his load, hot jets of cum spurting deep into Betsy’s tight cunt even as he fucked it.

“Mfffffffhhhhhhb!” Betsy gurgled, her body exploding with unbelievable release as the sudden flood of hot cum drew her up to another level, made her pleasure incandescent. Massive spasms of raw satisfaction tore into her, making her peak savagely, repeatedly, for long minutes, each more delicious than the last. 

Bruce pulled his spent prick from her and Betsy felt an acute sense of disappointment. There was a quite noticeable vacancy inside her now, even with the heat of his semen still burning inside her. A cloud of white fumed from her pussy, like cream being added to coffee. They watched it grow and grow, both trying to get their ragged breathing in order, shyly avoiding the other’s eyes.

“So that’s what it feels like,” Betty said hoarsely, her voice still weak. 

“Not all the time,” Bruce said, his own voice shaky. “It can’t feel like that all the time—people would never do anything else.”

It felt like it took a tremendous effort to even do that much in her strained body, but Betsy smiled. “So you think we should check?”

“Check?”

“Whether it always feels that good.” Betsy rolled on top of him, a titanic undertaking, but her lust overruled her sore, aching flesh. “When can you do it again?”

Bruce smiled up at her.

The water was already dirty, after all.