Without The Mask

 

Batwoman x Supergirl
DC Universe AU – TV-MA

Gotham sleeps. National City sleeps. But Kate Kane and Kara Danvers are wide awake.

The penthouse apartment is quiet except for the soft hum of the city below. Outside, rain streaks the glass, glittering like fractured diamonds. Inside, the lights are dimmed low. A muted amber glow falls across a sleek leather couch and scattered blankets.

Kate leans against the kitchen counter, sleeves rolled up, casual t-shirt and jeans, hair slightly mussed. She watches Kara quietly, standing barefoot near the window, hair falling loose around her shoulders, robe loosely tied. The storm outside mirrors the storm building in their space.

“Long night?” Kate asks, voice teasing, low.

“Depends who you ask,” Kara murmurs, tilting her head, lips curving with a mischievous grin. “You?”

Kate smiles, eyes darkening with intent. “Depends who’s asking.”

The air between them crackles. Years of shared battles, laughter, and trust condensed into a single moment of tension. Kate steps closer, narrowing the space, hand brushing against Kara’s arm. Kara shivers, leaning slightly into the touch.

“Kate…” Kara whispers, voice breathy.

“Yes,” Kate says, voice rougher than she intended. “You feel it too.”

Kara steps closer. Their breaths mingle. The first kiss is teasing — slow, deliberate. Lips brushing, tasting, testing boundaries. Kate’s hands slide down Kara’s sides, gripping gently. Kara arches into her, tilting her head, giving herself over.

Kate leans in, deeper now, lips moving with intent. Kara responds, pressing closer, hands tangling in Kate’s hair, jacket, t-shirt. Heat builds, slow and intoxicating, spreading through limbs, hearts, bodies.

“You’re dangerous,” Kara breathes against her mouth.

“You have no idea,” Kate murmurs, lips brushing Kara’s jaw, neck, shoulder. Her hands explore slowly, reverently, with playful urgency.

Kara laughs softly, a husky sound, leaning fully into Kate, shivering with anticipation. “I like it when you’re dangerous,” she whispers.

Kate guides her gently toward the couch, draping blankets around them, bodies aligning, pressed close. Every kiss is deliberate. Every brush of skin electric. Fingers tangle in hair, over shoulders, tracing curves, lingering on every inch of warmth.

Kara’s back arches as Kate presses against her, teasing, claiming, exploring — lips on lips, shoulders, jawline. Breath mingles, soft moans escape, whispering names and laughter in a rhythm of want and surrender.

Kate’s hands move with confident intimacy. Kara’s hands roam, pulling her closer, fingers grazing over shoulders, through hair, along her back. The storm outside thrums in sync with the pulse of heat and desire between them.

Time dissolves. There’s only the warmth of bodies, the taste of lips, the tug of hands, the ache of desire tempered by tenderness. They roll onto the couch together, wrapped in blankets and each other, every kiss deeper, every touch more deliberate, every sigh and shiver a vow of trust and surrender.

Finally, they pause, foreheads pressed together, chests rising and falling in unison.

“You’re impossible,” Kara murmurs.

“And you love it,” Kate replies, lips brushing Kara’s temple in a lingering, erotic promise.

Outside, the storm rages. Inside, two women burn brighter than any lightning strike, lost in each other, in heat, and in intimacy.