Fan Fiction ❯ Passion ❯ Smooth Start ( Chapter 4 )

A/N: I do not own Batman Beyond, nor any of its characters or settings. All original people are mine, however.

This story contains sexual content. Do not read unless you are 18 or older.

Terry woke up to his alarm going off. He opened one eye to glare at the offending machine, wondering why on earth it was set in the first place. The display showed it was only ten o'clock in the morning. He was accustomed to sleeping until noon, at least. Unless he was required to train. It was Tuesday morning, for god's sake. And he'd gone to bed late! He had no reason to be getting up so early. Grumbling to himself, he reached over and yanked the cord of the clock out of the wall, effectively silencing it. He had just been about to drift back to sleep when memory of the previous night returned to him.

He'd been late getting to bed because he'd been making love to a gorgeous woman, who happened to be Bruce Wayne's next door neighbor. He smiled to himself as images from the previous night flashed through his mind. His body tightened, blood rushing through his veins, and his penis went to attention with yet another erection. He hadn't had this many hard-ons since he was going through puberty. At least he knew his circulation was in excellent condition.

He sighed, glancing out the window. The sun was up and shining, apparently it was going to be a beautiful day in Gotham. He lazily stretched out across his bed, tensing his muscles, and then yawned before slowly crawling off the bed. He'd set the alarm so he could get up and go to Wayne Manor bright and early. Bruce wouldn't be expecting him until after noon, so he had time to stop by Donovan Hall and pay the lovely Lora Carlton a visit. He still had no idea what he was going to say to her, but he was confident he'd think of something. Years of combat had given him a knack for coming up with plans off the top of his head. Engaging in simple conversation with a woman would be no challenge whatsoever.

He took a quick shower, shaved, and then carefully brushed his hair into its usual floppy style. He dressed a little nicer then usual: a black polo and khakis. He made sure to tuck the polo into his pants, because more then one woman had told him he had a great ass, and khakis showed it off rather well. Satisfied that he was presentable, he left his apartment and headed for Donovan Hall.

As the enormous old house came into view, Terry's stomach suddenly grew a bit uneasy. He frowned, wondering if something he ate last night had disagreed with his stomach. Nothing came to mind. He hadn't eaten anything unusual. As he pulled up to the iron gate at the end of the driveway, his stomach became even more nauseated. He hesitated, wondering what in the hell was going on. As he was glaring down at his stomach in dismay, the gate swung open, startling him. He glanced around, but no one was in sight. It was obviously motion sensitive. And it would be useless against keeping people out. What good was a gate that opened to every car that pulled up to it? Some criminal could breeze right through it, and then Lora could end up in serious danger. He'd have to have a word with her about that.

Shaking his head, he stepped on the gas. His Mercedes shot down the driveway, and as he got closer to the house, the pain in his stomach increased. Frustrated, he slammed on the brake, threw the car into park, and then closed his eyes, trying to will his stomach to settle down. He took several deep breaths and, to his relief, the pain began to dissipate. He slowly opened his eyes, and Donovan Hall loomed over him. Almost immediately his stomach began to cramp up again. It suddenly occurred to him that he wasn't suffering from indigestion, but nerves!

The thought was laughable. He hadn't had butterflies in years. Then again, he'd hadn't had his world rocked either until last night. He ran his hand through his hair in exasperation. He had no reason to be so nervous about talking to this woman. He'd seen her naked last night, for crying out loud. That wasn't the best thing to remind himself of, because once again, at the mere thought of her, his dick got hard. It would be damn noticeable in the khakis. Apparently nothing was going to go smoothly for him today. Maybe he should turn the car around and leave. He could see her tomorrow.

He put his hand on the stick shift and then paused. It was not like him to run from anything. It went against his very nature. He'd faced death hundreds of times without flinching. He could face one drop dead gorgeous woman with the face of an angel, a body made for sin, and… He shook his head, putting a stop to those thoughts. His penis didn't need any encouragement.

What was wrong with him? Last night he'd had the balls to put her hand on his rampant arousal, and today he couldn't even manage to walk up to her front door. This was getting ridiculous. He shifted the car into drive, pulled up to the front of the house, and then killed the engine. He sat in his car, staring at the front door for several moments, giving his cock time to relax, along with the rest of him. When he was certain he had his treacherous body under control, he slowly got out of the car and then began to walk to the door.

His palms started sweating, and he cursed under his breath as every nerve in his body seemed to grow taut with…what? Fear, anticipation, doubt? He had no idea, but it was driving him crazy. As he stopped in front of the door, he suddenly realized that he was coming to her unmasked this time. Last night, he'd been protected by the identity of Batman. It hadn't been him she was seeing, but his alter ego. He'd been hidden from her, she hadn't even seen his face. Today, he was facing her naked, so to speak. Of course, he'd love to be doing anything with her naked…Terry cursed and abruptly knocked on the door to end that line of thought before he got another erection.

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Lora woke up at dawn and began her usual morning ritual. She took a long bath, luxuriating in the way the warm water soothed her sore muscles. After she dried off, she pulled on a pair of shorts and a tank top, but decided against a bra. She preferred not to wear one unless she was going out. She went to the main floor of the house and began going through boxes. She'd been unpacking in sporadic bursts. She had way too much stuff that she'd accumulated over the years to get everything put away at once. And Dane, that worthless oaf, had already made himself scarce. She had no idea where he was at the moment, although she knew he wasn't far from her side. He was just hiding. The man absolutely hated unpacking, and cleaning as well, for that matter. He'd told her many times that he wasn't a slob, he just didn't pick up after himself until his living environment became hazardous to his health. Then he did a quite admirable job of cleaning house, so to speak. But for the moment, Lora knew that she was on her own.

She went through her clothes first, because they were most important. She couldn't wander around town naked, although she suspected most men wouldn't have a problem with that. She just didn't feel like getting arrested. She had a dozen boxes full of clothes. She'd always been something of a clothes horse. She also had a strong fetish for randomly buying shoes, it seemed, and had over fifty pair. At first, she carted her things upstairs in small bundles, but that quickly became annoying, not to mention time consuming. So then she started dragging boxes up the stairs. It was exhausting work, and she felt as if she was sweating like a pig. When she dropped one box on her toes, she howled and hopped around the hall for a moment before shrieking, "Damn it, Dane, you big coward! The least you could do is carry these boxes for me!"

There was no answer, of course. She hadn't expected one. The man was without shame sometimes. Muttering to herself, she started stomping down the hall, box in hand, and winced as pain shot through her newly injured foot. She dropped the box in her room, noting she'd only managed to bring four up so far. She was too tired to carry the rest, so she decided to just unpack the boxes she'd managed to bring up and worry about the ones downstairs later. She wiped sweat off her brow, thinking she'd need to take another bath, and then started digging through her clothes.

She randomly piled the clothes around her room, putting tops in one pile, pants in another, swim suits and underwear in yet another. Within minutes, her room looked like a hurricane had passed through it. Why was it that whenever she set out to clean up, she made one hell of a mess first?

She was reaching for a halter top when the doorbell rang. Her body immediately stiffened, tension flooding through her. She wasn't expecting any visitors today. Nor for the next couple days, for that matter. She'd only just moved to Gotham, so she hadn't made any friends yet…Although she did already have a lover, she thought with a bemused smile. Shaking her head, she rose and went to her bedroom window. She saw a strange black Mercedes parked in front of her house. It didn't look like it had a backseat, so it could only carry two people. A quick glance around the yard showed no other cars had come with it. If Max had sent someone to pay her a visit, there would be more then one car. Still, she wasn't taking any chances.

She crossed the room and pulled out her handgun: a lovely little glock that she was quite proficient with, thanks to years of grueling lessons from Dane. She tucked it into the waistline of her shorts, in the middle of her back so that it wouldn't be visible. She stepped out of her room, and ten feet away stood Dane, armed with two handguns and sporting a serious look on his face.

"Oh sure, now you show up," she growled.

He ignored her, falling into step behind her as she went downstairs. He slid into a small compartment to one side of the front door so that he was hidden from view. She paused to take a deep breath, cursing the fact that her door didn't have a peephole so she could see who the visitor was. She placed a blank look on her face, and then slowly opened the door.

A handsome young man stood on her front porch. He was alone, and a quick look revealed he was unarmed. He was dressed in business causal attire that complimented his firm, athletic body. The short sleeves of his polo showed off the breadth of his chest and the bulging muscles of his arms, and the snug khakis revealed a trim waist and muscular legs. He had pitch black hair and brilliant blue eyes, and when he smiled at her in greeting, she had to force herself not to stare at his sensuous lips. Oh yes, he was most definitely handsome. But he was at least a year or two younger then she was. Perhaps twenty-five…

He was looking back at her with an equally intent expression, and she wondered if he'd noticed her staring at him. She was mildly alarmed by her response to him. For all she knew, he could be an assassin sent by Max, and it'd be best if she didn't let herself get distracted by his pretty face and head turning body. She forced a smile onto her lips and said, "Hello, may I help you?"

Terry was openly staring at Lora when she spoke to him. He'd been half afraid he'd imagined her beauty last night, but the harsh light of day showed him that wasn't the case. Lora Carlton was as stunning by sunlight as moonlight. She was wearing a pair of very tiny shorts that showed off her incredible legs, and he wanted to let his tongue take a sleigh ride down them. She had on a small white tank top, and he thought he could see the outline of her nipples beneath it. His chest suddenly tightened, and he found it hard to breathe, but at least his johnson was still under control. For the moment.

"Uh, hi," he said, holding his hand out to her. "I'm…Allen McGinnis. I work for Mr. Wayne."

Lora stared at him for a moment, wondering why he'd stopped by. She knew it would look rude if she didn't shake his hand, but she was scared to touch him. He was too handsome for comfort already, and if she touched him, she thought she might swoon. But Lora was anything but a coward, so she reached out and gently shook his hand.

Electricity passed between them, intense and erotic. It shot from their hands straight to their groins. Lora instinctively gasped and stepped back, her nipples puckering in blatant invitation against the fabric of her shirt. Terry's hands clenched convulsively as his dick shot up, straining against the fly of his pants. They stared at one another in lengthening silence, Terry gripped by a desire so fierce he couldn't think, and Lora frozen by shock and the first tingling of fear. How could she want this man when she'd just had passionate sex with her lover last night? What was wrong with her? She'd never been interested in more then one man at a time, it just wasn't in her nature.

"Um, it's nice to meet you, Allen," Lora finally stammered. "I'm Lora Carlton."

"I know," Terry replied, not used to hearing anyone but his mother call him by his middle name. And even then, his mom only said it when he was in trouble. But it was the best thing he'd been able to come up with, so he was stuck with using it. For now. "Mr. Wayne told me you'd moved in. I just thought I'd stop by and welcome you to the neighborhood."

Lora stared at him in dismay, her eyes unable to look away from that mouth of his. Her gaze traveled down his body of its own will, and her eyes widened when they rested on his rather obvious erection. So she wasn't the only one feeling the effects of desire. That was a slight relief, although she was still frightened by her reaction to him. She had to get away from him. Now. "That's very kind of you. Thank you for coming by," she replied, and then slammed the door in his face.