The Ultimate Soulreach :[Damian Wayne x Reader]

What Do Old Men Have In Common: Their Nefarious Plans, Of Course

Hi guys,

So sorry for the long wait, and thank you so much for your patience. I am excited to finally be able to return to writing after my little hiatus. I hope you enjoy cause shit is about to hit the fan.

Enjoy! <3

(Y/N) POV:

The heat of my embarrassment as I gently wipe down the surface of his father's desk sobers me from the high I just experienced. As Damian leans against the doorframe of the ensuite bathroom with amusement lightening his eyes, I clear my throat and bark out, "Not a word." Despite my best attempt at scowling at him, he simply throws his head back and unleashes a throaty laugh that has my thighs slick at the recent memory of where his devious mouth just was.

Huffing a breath through my nose, I brush past him to reenter the mammoth ensuite that is larger than most people's entire living room. I approach the sink and silently send thanks to the bathroom gods for inventing wall mirrors with vanity lights built into them.

Looking at my complexion once again, I make sure that the sharp lines of my lipstick are back in place before finger-combing the stray pieces of my hair into their designated space. Satisfied with my outward appearance, I do a quick 360 twirl before exiting.

On the way out, I shoot Damian what I hope is a sultry grin, which he reciprocates before slapping my ass. I squeal as the impact makes me jump a little before an uncontrollable laugh bubbles up. Twisting around, a smile edges across my face as I lean forward and start tickling his abdomen mercilessly.

Damn. Those are some rock-solid abs.

Despite my vicious attack, he simply chuckles, slips his hands into his pockets, and gives me a crooked smile. I gape up at him as the realization that he's not even remotely ticklish dawns on me. I'm certain that I look like a fish out of water before I clamp my mouth shut, teeth clacking, and switch gears.

I am now absolutely hell-bent on getting a reaction out of this man, so I sharply lift my twitching fingers to his underarms, going in for the kill shot.

To no avail.

He remains stony-faced, if a bit entertained by my dire efforts.

Nothing.

"What the fuck?" I whisper under my breath. Entirely exasperated by my lack of success, I look up at him, perturbed and in awe of his resilience. "C'mon, there is no way that you're not ticklish," I murmur.

The only response I get is a slight tilt of his head and a shoulder shrug. Defeated, I drop my arms to my sides and stomp toward the door with a huff.

Oh, I'll get him. Maybe I just need to wait when he's least expecting it.

He follows closely behind me as I make my way to the massive oak doors that have secretly housed us this past half hour. Cracking the door, I take the soft glow of the floor lights as a comforting sign that we're in the clear and slip out into the hall.

Turning around, I watch Damian silently close the door behind him, which gives a faint 'click' to let us know that it is once again locked.

The sacred office of Bruce Wayne is even more sacred now. At least for us.

Wordlessly, he gives me his outstretched hand while turning his head left and right to make sure we're truly alone. Taking it, I revel in the way the warm, rough skin of his hand has the power to send licks of heat dancing up my arm.