Chapter 7: Latex and Leather
The dorm door clicked shut, sealing them in the familiar chaos of Chloe’s room. The smell of old pizza and printer ink instantly replaced the alley's damp chill. Before the deadbolt fully engaged, James had her. His hands, large and warm, slid from her shoulders down the slick latex of her arms, pinning her wrists gently but firmly against the cool wood of the door. His body pressed flush against hers, the worn leather of his jacket rough against the suit’s gleaming surface, the heat of him radiating through both layers.
"James—" The modulator garbled her gasp, turning it into something low and predatory.
The kiss that followed wasn't gentle like the one in the alley. It was immediate, deep, fueled by the frantic energy of the run upstairs, the lingering shock of the alley kiss, and the suit’s immediate, violent hum. His mouth found hers through the mask again, but this time there was no hesitation, only a raw, consuming need. His lips moved hungrily against the cool latex barrier. The suit thrummed, a resonant vibration that started low in her belly and spread outward like liquid heat, amplifying the pressure of his body, the scrape of leather on rubber, the insistent demand of his kiss.
His hands released her wrists, sliding down her sides, tracing the exaggerated curves the suit sculpted. They gripped her hips, pulling her tighter against him, eliminating any space. Chloe gasped again, her own hands, freed, instinctively rising to clutch at the worn leather covering his shoulders. The suit responded to his touch like a live thing, the hum intensifying, resonating where his fingers dug into the slick material near her waist. It was too much. It was everything. Sensation overloaded her – the smell of his skin, leather, and the faint rubbery scent of her suit, the heat, the vibration, the sheer physical force of him holding her captive against the door.
"God, you feel..." James breathed against the mask, his voice thick, ragged. He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down the latex covering her jawline, towards her throat where the cowl ended and bare skin was exposed. His mouth found that vulnerable strip. Hot. Wet. Real. Against her skin. Chloe cried out, a sound the modulator couldn't disguise, her head falling back against the door with a soft thump. The suit hummed louder, a possessive purr vibrating against his lips.
His hands moved again, one sliding up her back, fingers seeking the top of the zipper hidden beneath the cowl. The other drifted lower, tracing the seam where the high-cut leg of the suit met her thigh. The humming surged, a palpable wave of energy radiating from the points of contact. It wasn’t just amplifying sensation anymore; it felt like it was guiding it, demanding more.
"James," she managed, the modulator crackling. "The suit... it's..."
"Not normal," he finished, his breath hot on her neck. "I know. I felt it downstairs. It’s like...” He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at her, his eyes dark, pupils blown wide in the dim light filtering through the blinds. He traced the edge of her cowl where it met her cheek, his thumb brushing her skin. "It's like it's alive. And it wants... this." His gaze dropped to her lips behind the mask. "Do you want this? Tell me. Chloe. Not the suit." He emphasized her name, grounding her.
The question pierced the sensory haze. Beneath the amplified desire, beneath the suit’s demanding thrum, Chloe felt a familiar tremor of shyness. The girl who stammered when he smiled at her in the dining hall. She looked into his eyes, seeing the intensity, the genuine question beneath the heat. The suit vibrated, a low growl of impatience.
"Yes," she whispered. Not the modulator. Her own voice, small but clear. "I want you. Not just the suit."
A slow, relieved smile touched his lips. He leaned in again, his forehead resting against the top of her masked head for a second. "Okay. Good." His hand on her back found the zipper pull. A small, almost invisible tab nestled beneath the edge of the cowl. "This thing... does it come off? Or are you permanently Catwoman?" His attempt at lightness was strained, his fingers trembling slightly against the metal pull.
The suit reacted instantly. The hum didn't just intensify; it spiked into a sudden, high-pitched whine, like feedback. The vibration turned sharp, almost painful, radiating out from the zipper pull. Chloe gasped, her body tensing. The suit felt like it was contracting, resisting.
"Whoa," James murmured, snatching his hand back as if burned. "Okay. Message received. Not coming off." He looked bewildered, staring at his fingers, then back at her mask. "It... it shocked me. Just a little buzz, but... definite 'no'." He sounded equal parts fascinated and unnerved.
Chloe could feel it – the suit’s possessive tension, its reluctance to relinquish its hold, its power. It wanted James's touch, but on its own terms. Its terms. The humming settled back to its possessive thrum, vibrating against his body where they still pressed together.
"Guess we work with what we've got," James said, a new kind of determination in his eyes. He slid his hands back to her hips, his touch deliberate, exploring the slick contours. His gaze raked over the suit's glossy surface, the way it caught the faint light from the window. "You truly are unreal in this thing." He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a murmur near her earhole. "But I still want the girl underneath." His lips found the latex covering her earlobe, nibbling gently. The suit vibrated, a pleased hum this time, encouraging.
He guided her away from the door, deeper into the room, navigating around a precarious stack of graphic novels and an open pizza box on the floor. He backed her towards the slightly unmade bed, littered with discarded hoodies and a plush Mjolnir. The humming deepened, a resonant bass note accompanying each step. His eyes never left hers. The casual chaos of her sanctuary – the Spider-Man poster watching impassively, the scattered pens on the desk – felt suddenly intimate, charged.
He paused at the edge of the bed. One hand slid up her side, over the sculpted latex ribs, coming to rest on her shoulder. The other traced the sharp line of her jaw beneath the cowl. His gaze was unwavering, intense. "How much does this... thing... feel?" he asked, his thumb stroking her skin. "Can you feel this?" He pressed a soft kiss against the latex cheek.
"Everywhere," Chloe breathed, the modulator husky. "It... translates. Amplifies. Especially..." Her gloved hand found his, guiding it deliberately downwards, over the smooth plane of her stomach, towards the curve of her hip. "...there."
A sharp intake of breath from James. His fingers flexed against her hip, the leather of his jacket creaking. The suit hummed its approval, a warm, resonant pulse that vibrated through her core and into his touch. He leaned in, his lips hovering near hers again. "Gonna drive me crazy," he muttered. "You. And this... humming." He kissed her again, hard this time, his body pressing her down onto the edge of the mattress.
Chloe sank back, James following, bracing himself above her. The suit responded with a wave of heat, the vibration intensifying where their bodies met – his chest against her latex-clad breasts, his thigh slipping between hers. The friction was electric, amplified a thousandfold. She arched into it, a moan escaping, muffled by the mask. His hand roamed, exploring the slick surface, tracing the improbable architecture the suit imposed on her form, seeking the heat beneath. Every glide of his fingers sent shivers of amplified pleasure radiating outwards, orchestrated by the suit’s insistent thrum.
He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, staring down at her. His eyes were dark with desire, but also a dawning realization. "It's getting hotter," he said, his voice strained. "The suit. Under my hands. Like it's..." He searched for the word. "Like it's energized."
Chloe felt it too. Not just the amplified sensation, but the suit itself seemed to be generating warmth, its hum deepening into a resonant growl that vibrated in her bones. It felt alive. Reactive. Hungry. She wanted to tell him, to warn him, but the feeling was overwhelming, obliterating thought. She pulled him down for another kiss, desperate and seeking, lost in the sensory storm.
Just as his hand slid lower, skimming the high-cut thigh of the suit, a sharp, rhythmic vibration buzzed against his hip. Not the suit. His phone, buried deep in his jeans pocket.
He froze. Groaned, a sound of pure frustration, pulling back slightly. "Ignore it," he murmured against her neck.
It buzzed again. Insistent. Then stopped. A second later, Chloe’s own phone, discarded on her desk under a pile of papers, began ringing with Natalie’s custom K-pop ringtone – bright, loud, and utterly jarring in the humid, vibrating tension of the room.
The spell fractured. The suit’s hum dipped, shifting into a lower, watchful register. James rested his forehead against her shoulder, his breathing still ragged. "Seriously?" he mumbled into the latex. "Right now?"
The K-pop jingle cut off abruptly, then instantly started again. Natalie wasn't giving up. Chloe could picture her roommate, probably stranded outside, bag of takeout in hand, wondering why her key wasn’t working.
James sighed, a long, defeated sound, and pushed himself up. He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging the fedora completely. It tumbled onto the floor next to a discarded water bottle. He looked down at Chloe, stretched out on the bed, the sleek black suit gleaming, her masked face turned towards him. Desire still warred with frustration in his eyes. "Duty calls?" he asked, his voice rough.
Before Chloe could answer, a frantic knocking started on the door. "Chlo? You in there? Hello? Did you deadbolt me out? My hands are full! Open uuuup!" Natalie’s voice, muffled but unmistakable, pierced through the door.
James shot Chloe a look – a mixture of 'we're screwed' and 'this isn't over'. The suit vibrated softly against the sheets, a low, contemplative hum that felt less like passion now and more like... waiting. Watching. Chloe pushed herself up, the latex creaking softly. The world rushed back in – the mess, the posters, the reality of her roommate outside. But the memory of James's touch, the impossible heat, and the suit’s resonant song vibrated deep within her, a secret pulse buried beneath the sudden, mundane interruption.
The frantic knocking echoed again, sharper now. "Chloe! Seriously, open up! I have bulgogi!" Natalie’s voice, muffled but insistent, cut through the humid, vibrating air. James groaned, rolling off Chloe, the sudden absence of his warmth leaving a charged void the suit hummed to fill. He raked a hand through his already messy hair, the fedora long forgotten on the floor near Mjolnir.
Chloe pushed herself up, the black latex gleaming under the weak desk lamp. The suit vibrated lowly, a sound almost like a purr now, but tinged with an undercurrent of watchfulness. She moved to the door, her movements fluid and confident despite the frantic thumping of her own heart beneath the sculpted chest plate. She slid the deadbolt back, opening it barely a crack, keeping her body shielded.
The hallway light framed Natalie’s surprised face, laden with takeout containers. "Natalie, I’m busy," Chloe said quickly, her modulator dialed down but still sounding distinct, not her own. "Can you go hang in the TV room for a while? Or maybe see what Jason is doing?"
Natalie’s eyes widened, then instantly narrowed with dawning, delighted comprehension. A huge grin spread across her face. "You got a visitor?" she replied, smiling knowingly. She leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a theatrical whisper. "Is it… James?" Her eyebrows waggled.
Behind Chloe, James shifted, the leather of his jacket scraping softly against the door frame he leaned against, unseen but palpably present. Chloe gave a small, almost imperceptible smile behind her mask and a quick nod.
"Good for you, Catwoman!" Natalie whispered, her grin practically audible. "Don’t worry, I’ll come back in the morning…" She winked, turned on her heel, and vanished down the hall, the scent of bulgogi trailing after her.
Chloe shut the door firmly, the deadbolt clicking back into place with a final, resonant sound. Silence descended, thick and heavy, broken only by James’s measured breathing and the suit’s low, insistent thrum. She turned slowly, her masked face finding him in the dim clutter of her room. He hadn’t moved from the doorway.
His gaze traveled over her, lingering on the cowl’s sharp lines, the impossible gloss of the suit catching the low light. “Your roommate’s terrifyingly perceptive,” he murmured, pushing off the door frame. He took a step closer, the air crackling with the rekindled energy. The suit’s hum deepened in response, a resonant bass note vibrating through the soles of Chloe’s feet.
“She reads people,” Chloe said, the modulator softening slightly. “And situations.”
He closed the remaining distance, stopping just before her. His eyes, dark and intense, searched the blank lenses of her mask. “And this situation?” he asked, his voice low, rough at the edges. His hand lifted, hovering near her cheek before tracing the sculpted edge of the cowl where it met her jawline. Bare skin. His touch, deliberate and warm, sent a jolt through her, amplified instantly by the suit. It buzzed against his fingertips. “What’s it reading now?”
Chloe leaned into his touch, a small, involuntary movement. The humming intensified, becoming a tangible vibration between them. “Heat,” she breathed. “Confusion. Wanting.” The modulator struggled to convey the rawness beneath the words. “Mostly wanting.”
James’s thumb brushed the corner of her jaw, his other hand finding her hip again, fingers spreading over the slick latex. The material felt warm beneath his palm now, radiating the energy it absorbed. “The suit wants,” he stated, his gaze fixed on hers. “I felt it downstairs. On the dance floor. Like it was… pulling me closer.” He paused, his fingers tightening minutely. “But what about you, Chloe? Underneath all this?” His knuckles grazed the vulnerable skin at the base of her throat, just below the cowl. The contrast – cool latex, warm skin, his touch – was electric. “Is it just the suit? Or is some of that wanting you?”
The question struck deep, piercing the haze of amplified sensation. The shy freshman from orientation flickered within her. She looked into his eyes, seeing the genuine question, the concern mixed with undeniable desire. The suit vibrated, a low thrum of urgency, a demand for more, not introspection. But she pushed back against its pressure, focusing on his face, the slight furrow between his brows.
“Both,” she admitted, her real voice a fragile whisper the modulator couldn’t mask. “It’s… tangled. The suit… it makes everything intense. Louder. Brighter. But the…” She swallowed, the movement visible beneath the tight cowl. “The wanting you part? That’s been there. Since orientation. Before the suit.” She forced the words out, the admission terrifyingly vulnerable beneath the powerful black shell. “It’s just… louder now.”
A slow, relieved exhale escaped James. His hand slid from her throat, cupping the back of her neck beneath the cowl, his fingers tangling gently in her hair. “Good,” he murmured. “Because the wanting you part? That’s definitely not the suit.” He leaned in, his lips finding hers through the latex mask once more. This kiss was different – less feverish than their first on the bed, less tentative than the one in the alley. It was deep, deliberate, a claiming laced with a newfound understanding.
His other hand slid firmly down her back, over the curve the suit emphasized, pressing her flush against him. Leather scraped against latex. His thigh insinuated itself between hers again. The friction ignited the suit instantly. Its hum spiked, vibrating violently through her core, a resonant frequency that seemed to thrum in James’s own chest where they pressed together. Chloe gasped into the kiss, arching against him, fingers digging into the leather covering his shoulders. The sensation was overwhelming – a feedback loop of desire and amplification.
He broke the kiss, breathing raggedly, his forehead resting against the top of her masked head. “Christ, that buzz,” he panted. “It’s… everywhere. Like it’s inside my bones.” He shifted his hand on her hip, his thumb sweeping a slow, maddening arc against the slick material. The suit’s response was immediate – a localized pulse of heat and vibration beneath his touch, radiating outwards. It felt less like a reaction and more like… an invitation. A demand.
His gaze dropped, watching his own hand move, tracing the seam where the suit met the bare skin high on her thigh, just below the curve of her hip. The humming intensified, focusing, becoming a focused purr centered exactly where his thumb pressed. His eyes flicked up to meet hers again, a question and an observation in one. “It likes that,” he stated quietly, his voice thick. “Responds.” He repeated the motion deliberately, pressing the pad of his thumb against the sensitive spot where latex ended and skin began.
Chloe shuddered, a sharp intake of breath hissing through the modulator. The suit’s vibrations sharpened, intensified, syncing with the pulse hammering in her throat. It felt like a live wire connected directly to her nerves. “Yes,” she managed, the modulator cracking slightly.
“How much?” he pressed, his hand stilling, thumb maintaining pressure. His eyes were locked on hers, intense, studying her reaction through the mask. “How much control does it have?”
Before she could formulate an answer, his other hand, the one cradling the back of her neck, slid slowly down her spine, tracing the hidden zipper pull tucked beneath the cowl. The reaction was instantaneous and violent. The suit’s hum cut off abruptly, replaced by a sharp, high-pitched screech of feedback. A visible ripple passed through the black material, like disturbed water. An intense wave of heat radiated from the zipper area, almost scalding against James’s probing fingers. He jerked his hand back with a startled curse.
“Fuck!” He stared at his fingers, then at the suit. “Okay. Point taken. Definitely off-limits.” He sounded bewildered, almost unnerved. The suit settled back into its possessive hum, but faster, higher-pitched now, vibrating with palpable tension. Chloe gasped, reeling from the sudden sensory shock – the loss of James’s touch on her spine, the suit’s violent rejection, the lingering heat.
“It’s… protective,” she breathed, trying to steady her voice inside the mask. “Or possessive. I don’t fully understand it yet.”
Chloe Choi in her latex catwoman costume kisses James in his Indiana Jones costume
James looked from his slightly reddened fingertips to the silent, gleaming surface of the suit covering her spine. His expression shifted from shock to a dawning, unsettling realization. The playful heat in his eyes cooled, replaced by sharpening focus. He slowly moved his hand back towards her, not touching the zipper, but hovering near the spot where the intense heat had emanated.