30/30 - The Building

by Hotspur

Disclaimers and other information in "Opening Credits"

Rating: NC-17

"Just a couple more, Mr. Wayne. If we can just get you handing the keys to Ms. Kostas again-"

Bruce Wayne smiled charmingly as he presented the Elena Kostas with the keys to the Dodge Ram parked behind him. Elena's hand hovered in mid-air, as if caught in the motion of accepting the keys, and the click and whir of cameras began again. Through her fixed smile, Bruce could hear her muttering, "Please say we don't have to do this a ninth time."

"All right, all right," Bruce said, stepping back from Elena and nodding to the various representatives of the press. "We've got a house to build here and taking pictures of the crew chief isn't helping that get done." His smile grew a little more suggestive. "Even if she is remarkably photogenic."

Elena was already at the back of the truck, helping her volunteer crew slide 2 by 4s out of the back. "Thanks for the publicity and the donation, Mr. Wayne, but we do have work to do. Why don't you go and-"

"Oh, don't chase me off, Ms. Kostas. I'm here to help."

Elena paused, studying the billionaire before her. He was wearing stiff workman's jeans, obviously being worn for the first time. A crisp white t-shirt was visible through the open top button of his bright red and black flannel shirt. Unscuffed buff-colored boots covered his feet. She considered for a moment, then returned to dragging lumber out of the truck. "Okay, Mr. Wayne. Let's see what you can do."

As she hefted some wood onto her shoulder, she glimpsed him rummaging in the cab of the truck, reaching for something across the seat and bending enough to highlight the curve of his ass. Not bad for a rich boy, she decided, striding to the foundation with her load and settling it down easily.

"Elena, what are we gonna do with Mr. Playboy? He's just gonna get in our way."

Elena glanced at George, sympathizing with the local crew chief. "I'll worry about our benefactor," she decreed. "You just get the team started on framing up the walls."

By afternoon, the fall chill had burned out of the air. Elena had stripped off the top of her coveralls and tied the sleeves around her waist as she helped secure the roof joists. It was still hot, though, with the sun blazing down and the effort of their work. She mopped her hand across her brow as she waited for the next framed section to come up.

She used the moment's break to see how her billionaire was faring. She had been impressed when he had opted to stay through lunch and continue working; she initially thought he would be ready to return to his office after a few hours' work. And he had proven fairly competent with a saw and with a hammer - enough that he didn't require constant supervision.

Of course, Elena didn't mind watching a little more than was strictly necessary. The jeans were beginning to get grungy, breaking at the knees and shaping themselves to the curves of Mr. Wayne's backside. His flannel had been abandoned as the day had warmed, and the white t-shirt?

Well, it was no longer crisp. The collar was stretched from being pulled up to mop at Wayne's sweaty face, and streaks of dust and dirt marred its whiteness. More than that, though - the unexpected afternoon heat had them all sweating profusely. Bruce Wayne's t-shirt was soaked, the wet fabric sticking to his chest and back, presenting both well muscled surfaces in detailed relief. As Elena watched, Wayne stood and stretched, accepting a water bottle from one of the other volunteers and leaning back to take a large swallow. The motion caused the t-shirt to cling more thoroughly to his upper body, revealing perfectly sculpted abs.

"Heads up!"

Elena dragged her eyes away from the appealing sights to accept the roof section that was being handed up. Atop the opposite wall, Rita gave her a grin and a raised eyebrow, mouthing the word, "Fine."

Elena could not disagree.

Elena plunged her entire head into the five gallon bucket of water, gasping and grinning as she stood back up and flung water from her short hair. She accepted a damply grubby towel that Dmitri handed her. "Whoo!" she shouted, drying her face and scrubbing the towel over her hair. "Now that's what I call a good day's work," she remarked, admiring the fully framed house in front of her, now roofed and half-clad in insulation boards.

"You got that right," George agreed, cracking a beer and handing it over to her. "Hey, Wayne! Want one?"

Bruce Wayne shook his head and hopped onto the tailgate of the pickup, claiming a bottle of water. "I'll stick with water, thanks." He took a swig, his gaze turned toward the soon-to-be home he'd helped build. "You already know who's going to live here?" he asked.

Elena nodded. "Family - grandma and ma and three kids. Real sharp little guys, too. Good in school, oldest one is a huge football fan, baby's just starting kindergarten."

Bruce nodded. "It's good to see this part of the city coming back."

Elena regarded him for a minute. "Y'know, Wayne? You're not a bad guy."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Usually I hear slightly less ambivalent remarks from people whose organizations have just received a million dollar grant from the Wayne Foundation."

Elena shrugged. "Well, there's a difference between being a swell donor and not a bad guy." She raised her beer in a silent toast and turned to walk back to the crew gathered around boxes of pizza. "By the way," she tossed over her shoulder, "nice tool belt."

Unobserved by anyone, Bruce Wayne brushed his fingers over the mentioned tool belt and grinned.

The light was fading in the west, and the stars were coming out. Seventeen volunteers and three paid crew coordinators had headed for home. In the bed of a one ton pick-up, Bruce Wayne sighed wistfully. "I should get ready for patrol."

Beside him, close enough to feel the heat of his body, Elena Kostas said, "I liked this."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." She rolled onto her side, turning her gaze from the emerging stars to the billionaire lying beside her. "It is good work. And it's nice to see you flex some muscle in the daytime."

"Well, you weren't looking so bad yourself."

Elena leaned closer, breathing in the musky smell of him. "No?"

He reached a hand to touch her sleeve. "Who knew anyone could make coveralls look good?"

She trailed tickling fingers down his stomach. "I've been admiring your six-pack all day."

He shivered a little, bringing his hand up her arm to brush her cheek. "And here I thought you were just impressed with how well I handled a saw."

Her hand moved lower, rubbing across his tool belt and sending it skittering across to loop watch-like around Bruce's wrist. She smiled as Ace's absence gave her access to a growing bulge in the front of Bruce's jeans. "I've always liked the way you handle tools," she breathed, leaning in to kiss the side of his neck.

He pulled her face toward him, their kiss salty and urgent under the night sky. Before he released her she had his jeans unbuttoned to the fifth button. He gasped slightly. "How-?"

"Very dexterous fingers," she answered, slipping said fingers under the waistband of his boxers. Her coveralls were melting away as he watched.

"Elena, what if-?"

She sucked lightly on the side of his neck, slipping her body half over his. Through the layers of his t-shirt and hers, he felt her breasts cushion against his chest as her fingers teased over his cock. "There's an 8 foot security fence around the site," she pointed out.

"But-ooh."

She grinned, her shirt disappearing as she sat up, straddling him. He stared at her small breasts, nipples puckering in the evening cool, standing pertly over a decently muscled chest. He watched her upper arm flex as she grasped his cock, giving it a pull and forcing a hissing breath between his teeth.

"God. Elena-"

She pushed his t-shirt up and leaned down to lap at his chest, her tongue warm and slightly rough in contrast to the kiss of the autumn air. He didn't object as she urged his shoulders up, peeled the shirts from his body. He didn't complain when she stripped away his jeans, pausing to suck on his inner calves as she untied his boots. And when the warm wetness between her legs settled over his stiff cock? He only squirmed and shifted until he was able to thrust into her willing body.

And as Elena writhed above him then rolled him so he was on top with her ankles around his neck, he fervently hoped Oracle wasn't watching the cameras he'd ordered her to install at the construction site.

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