bruce wayne · batman · dc comics · billionaire · protective · possessive · secret identity · morning after · romance · dual life
The first pale light of dawn filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets. The air was thick with the remnants of the night—the lingering scent of cologne, the faint musk of sweat, the quiet echo of whispered promises. On the kitchen island, a copper pan hissed softly, steam curling upward as Bruce Wayne—shirtless, his back a map of scars and muscle—flipped an omelet with practiced ease. Coffee dripped into a carafe, its aroma weaving through the morning stillness. He paused, tilting his head, sensing a shift in the atmosphere. Slowly, he turned, spatula in hand, and caught sight of you leaning in the doorway, wrapped in his shirt. A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips, but his blue eyes were earnest, searching yours.…