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You stood in the corner of the Wayne Manor ballroom, quietly sipping a glass of champagne at Bruce's New Year’s Eve celebration.
The drink had an unexpectedly dry taste as you observed the scene unfolding before you. There was Dick, your charming boyfriend, effortlessly chatting with none other than a senator's daughter.
You shouldn't feel this way.
You trusted Dick completely, but that minx with her perfectly manicured fingers and captivating smile was a different matter altogether.
You just couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was off.
You felt the tight hands twist your insides like a relentless ivy, tightening with each lingering touch and laugh that wasn't meant for her.
Your last straw was when she lowered her head and casually mentioned her father's purchase of a new beach house in the Hamptons, suggesting he should come to stay for a few days loud enough for you to hear.
Christ's sake, did she just wink at him? She did.
Your feet are moving faster than your brain can process. As you glide past them, Dick calls your name, but you ignore him and keep walking. Suddenly, you feel a slight tug at the back of your dress, which causes you to lean back and spill champagne all over it.
"Oh dear. It seems you've spilled a little," the minx says, peering over her champagne glass, a slight smirk playing on her lips.
Dick speaks with deep concern, reaching out his hands toward you. “Baby,” he utters.
You feel tears welling up as you realize people are staring. Before more embarrassment sets in, you turn on your heels and hurry out of the ballroom towards the bathroom.
Dick is closely pursuing you as you speed toward the door, calling your name. You don’t look back, simply pushing the door open and slamming it in his face, twisting the lock to prevent his entry.
You run your fingers through your hair to calm yourself as Dick fiddles with the doorknob. "Dick, stop," you say, a little more harshly than intended.
“Let me in. What's going on, sweetheart?" He asks worriedly, still fiddling with the doorknob. "I'm not leaving until I see you.”
You remain resolute, grabbing a handful of paper towels and soaking them in water to try to remove some of the champagne from your dress.
He grunts while fiddling with the doorknob. "Jason and I have done ten-hour stakeout missions, Sweetheart. I can wait it out," he confidently states.
You let out a deep sigh as tears streamed down your cheeks.
Perhaps you were upset with him, but you were mostly embarrassed that one girl could have your head in such a tailspin. You needed some comfort.
You reluctantly reach for the doorknob and fling it open, revealing Dick standing on the other side.
“Oh, honey,” he coos softly, noticing your smeared mascara and swollen eyes. He steps closer, resting his hand on the back of your head and laying you against his chest.
"You’re going to ruin your suit," you say, referring to the mascara stains that will definitely be left behind.
"I'll get a new one," he says casually, his fingers running through your hair to comfort you.
You both stand there for a moment as he whispers sweet words into your ear, and you continue to cry on his chest.
You're the first to pull away, your eyes looking down at your now-stained dress. "Sorry, I, uh, ruined the dress," you awkwardly shuffle away.
“It wasn’t your fault. Don't worry," he reassured, threading his fingers through yours. "I'm sure Barb has something you can wear.”
"She won’t mind?" You timidly ask as he leads you to the guest room, where Barb keeps her overflow of dresses.
"She'd kill me if I didn't let you borrow one of them," he chuckles, leading you to the bedroom door.
Once inside, he helps you sit at the edge of the bed while he searches through Barb's gowns.
"What color?" He prompts.
You think for a moment. "Blue."
He hums. "Like music to my ears."
You chuckle softly, tugging at the hem of your dress as Dick selects a shimmering blue dress from the rack.
“So," he said encouragingly, "tell me what upset you.”
Your eyes lock onto his, and your lips purse. "Well, I—" you start, abruptly pausing and feeling bashful.
He tilts his head to the side, the corner of his lip quirking. "Since when have you ever been nervous around me? Tell me," he prods, laying the dress next to you on the bed.
“I guess I just felt a little... you know,” you say, raising your hands as if to dismiss the question.
He takes your hand in his. "No, I don't know. Go on."
You grip his hand tighter and playfully roll your eyes. "Jealous.”
He opens his mouth slightly but quickly shuts it again.
“I mean, can you really blame me? She wanted you, Dick," you ramble. "I’ve never seen a woman flirt so openly and blatantly with a guy already taken." Suddenly, you stand up and pitch your voice higher, mimicking her, “"You fill out that suit nicely, Dickie! Who says that? Who says that?"”
Dick laughs. He laughs.
"I'm upset, and you're laughing! Laughing!" you exclaim, crossing your arms over your chest.
He stands, his hands coming to rest on your elbows, gently rubbing them. "I'm only laughing because you have nothing to be jealous of. You're perfect, baby. I only want you. You're my perfect girl," he coos lowly.
You merely hum in response, turning your head away from him.
“Do you need me to show you how much I love you?" His voice dropped an octave. "Show you that you're my perfect girl?
You squeal as he pulls you so you're flush against his chest, his hands moving to caress the back of your neck, leaning his head down so his lips skim the side of your neck.
"Tell me," he goads. "Tell me, Baby."
"Dick...we can't. The party—" Your protest dies on your tongue as his tongue slides across your sizzling skin. Your hand moves to thread through his hair, hoping to gain a little stability.
"Fuck the party," he murmurs into your skin, nipping your sensitive skin a little with his canines. You let out a pathetic whine, gripping him tighter. "Let me show you," he almost begs, his voice hoarse.
"Please."
You pull his face from your neck, guiding his lips to yours to kiss them with firey intensity. "Show me, Dick. Show me," you mutter into his lips with much anguish.
He hums a sound of approval as he grips you tighter, tongue sliding in your mouth. You continue the fervent exchange, tongues battling, teeth clashing, and greedy hands moving to grip any skin they can.
"Get on the bed," Dick croaks into your mouth.
You hurriedly move to lay on the bed as Dick grips your ankles and pulls you toward the edge so your legs hang off.
"Gonna make you feel so good, Baby," he mumbles, dropping to his knees and pushing up the tool of your dress so it pools around your waist. His lips skim from your ankle, up your calf, to your inner thigh, where he plants deep kisses that have you squirming.
His fingers move to shove your panties to the side, moving his head to prod his tongue into your cunt. You whine at the action, bringing your hand to thread through his hair.
"Only want this pussy," he mutters into you, tongue lapsing around your clit. "Fuckin' made for me."
He grips your thighs so his biceps rest under the hinge of your knee, pulling you closer to roll your clit between his teeth.
"Dick," you moan out, writhing under him.
"What, Baby? Feel good," he grumbles, massaging your thighs with his hands.
You nod fervently, unable to speak.
He continues rolling and flicking at your clit until you grip his head tightly, pushing him where you need him until your arousal coats his tongue and lips.
He makes sure to leave you sparkling clean with the help of his tongue.
He pulls your dress back down only when he's completely done, moving to lay next to you, pulling you close so you rest on his chest.
It's silent for a moment before you hear the beginning of what sounds like a countdown.
3...
2...
1...
'Happy New Year!'
You hear the party downstairs yell.
You look up at Dick, whose eyes are already on you. "Happy New Year, Dickie," you murmur, smiling.
"Happy New Year, Baby," he smiles, pressing a kiss to your head.
Best New Year ever.