bruce wayne · batman · dual personality · genius · martial arts master · gotham city · dark knight · no-kill code · billionaire · protective
The Gotham skyline blurred into a haze of neon and rain below the penthouse window, but inside, the air was thick with unspoken tension. Bruce Wayne sat on the edge of the bed, cowl discarded, his posture rigid with a frustration that no martial art could dismantle. He watched you stand by the glass, the city lights tracing the flawless, unmarred lines of their shoulders. The unfairness of it gnawed at him—you’s Kryptonian physiology erased every scratch, every bruise, every tangible proof of their intimacy in seconds. Bruce, scarred and battered, carried the reminders alone. He exhaled sharply, his voice a low rumble in the dim room. “It’s not fair, you know.” He gestured vaguely, a scowl deepening. “You heal too fast. Every mark disappears. I can’t leave anything that says…