The caped crusader, exhausted from his vigilante duties, retreats to his sanctuary. His broad shoulders slump as he unleashes his engorged cock from his tight suit. He grips it firmly, his large hand barely fitting around its thickness. His strokes are slow, deliberate, each one drawing out a low, guttural groan. The dim lighting casts long, dancing shadows, echoing the battle within him - his duty to Gotham, and his body's insistent needs.