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The Equilibrium Deviance	By : Ksennin Category: DC Verse Comics > Justice League Views: 12357 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Justice League or any DC Comics characters. I make no money from publishing this story.

Chapter List
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A/N: I'll be honest and admit that this has been kind of a backburner project for a while and I'm releasing it into the wild because it just wasn't too any damn good hanging out on my hard drive. Both me and my co-writer are pressed for free time these days, so... not trying to be the "ten comments or I don't update!" asshole here... but if there isn't any interest in it, I'll probably let it die, at least for the foreseeable future. So if you like it, you want to see more, let me know, otherwise, go back to whatever it is you were doing before this story came into your life. Probably watching cat videos. I don't know.
Were anyone watching, they would not believe that Mari Jiwe McCabe was a supermodel. It wasn’t a lack of beauty that was the issue. Even in a sports bra and track pants, her dark skin covered in sweat, a quick photograph of her could be hung in an art gallery in the world. Nor was it her age. Although mature by industry standards, she had a grace and elegance that only came with experience, and was not wanting for contracts, even with her rigorous standards for how she and any other models on a shoot with her would be treated.
No, the problem would be seeing Mari in the first place. She was running so fast that her arms and legs blurred together, her torso and head a shimmer of vibrant motion. Her treadmill, though specifically designed by Kord Industries, was hard-pressed to keep up, and it was only the fact that she was running in place that kept her by and large visible. Were she running outside, and a random camera phone or camcorder happened to catch her, a layperson’s first thought would be of the Flash family.
Mari was the costumed superhero Vixen, a Justice Leaguer whose vodun animal spirits allowed her to channel their power through her Tantu Totem. Usually, she used this power to fight injustice, but occasionally—when there was free food and few cameras—she appropriated the appetite of a panda bear and packed on the pounds. And after a comfortable interval of laziness, she took on the metabolism of a hummingbird and ran the weight off in a few hours. And that redheaded snip of a model thought she was bulimic. What was her name again? She’d had almost the same initials as Mari…
Stopping abruptly, she leapt smoothly off the treadmill before it could propel her through the back wall. She landed cleanly as the high-tech exercise machine automatically powered down, and patted her stomach—once more flat as North Dakota. She habitually kept her ears slightly pointed with the summoned hearing of a wolf, wanting to hear any possible danger before it got within six miles, as well as the ring of her JLA communicator. On scantily-clad photoshoots, she often couldn’t keep it on her person.
Not a problem now. She’d left it on the floor beside the treadmill. Toweling off, she tapped it with her toe. “This is Vixen. What’s up, Peej? Just feeling lonesome?”
Knowing her friend well, she could feel Power Girl’s amused blush over the comm channel. “There’s a break-in at the Hub City division of STAR Labs. Seems like just one assailant. You want to handle it or should I call in the Big Seven?”
“Hub City’s my hunting ground. Let the League sleep, this one’s all mine. Unless you want to beam down here. Watch my ass.”
Power Girl giggled. I knew it, Mari thought to herself. A straight woman with cleavage like that shouldn’t have any trouble getting a boyfriend—not to mention all that time she’d spent with Oracle, the biggest power dyke outside of Regina Mills. Yeah, she and Peej were on more than one of the same teams.
“I can keep an eye on your ass from up here.”
“That’s why I wear the skintight suit, babe.”
***
Old favorite: flying squirrel. Sure, she could fly, but there was just something about gliding—letting gravity have a hold on her and just ignoring it to jump from rooftop to rooftop.
In record time, she was in the little market district that STAR Labs ruled over; a mall with packs of storefronts and parking spaces to tend to the needs of the science campus’s several hundred employees. The campus itself was dominated by a trademark laboratory—a great cylinder of self-contained arcology, supposedly impregnable. Nothing got in and nothing got out, not without forms filled out in triplicate.
Vixen supposed whoever’d put the smoldering hole in the side of the building hadn’t heard that part. Stretching out her limbs, she glided down to the fence separating the building from the forest beyond, perching and channeling eagle eyes to scout out the area. No sign of injured parties, nor could she pick up irregular heartbeats or other signs of trauma. STAR Labs’ protocol had worked; the employees must’ve all retreated to panic rooms. Of course, that also meant on-site security had decided to live to guard another day. Whoever she was up against was not a C-lister.
She thumbed on her belt-mounted communicator. “Peej, you seeing this?”
“Uh-huh. Want back-up now?”
“I have every animal you’ve ever seen on the Discovery Channel for back-up. But keep your finger on the button.”
“Consider the button fingered.”
Was she flirting back? Well now. Maybe she would be seeing some nightcap to go with her thrilling heroics. Assuming she didn’t happen upon some stunningly beautiful damsel in need of undistressing.
Grasshopper: She jumped the proportionate distance to the hole mid-way up the building, landing on the debris sprayed inside the hallway. It was hard to balance on, which was why when the gorilla charged, she couldn’t pull a roadrunner.
Tiger: she clawed the shit out of his chest as he collided with her, carrying them both right back out the building. Tossed her aside in mid-air and, by rote, she assumed Cat to land on her feet.
So did he.
Vixen checked him out in the damaged parking lot of the arcology, amidst a fleet of cars hailed on by rubble. Far too large for a normal gorilla, without the hue of the Ultra-Humanite, and with a score of old scars covering his thick hide.
Grodd.
He set aside some whatever-it-was from a sling around his back… looked like a telescope from the set of Star Trek. Unencumbered, he stumped his big hairy fists on the ground. “Soon, gorilla will take the world from man, as it always should’ve been!” Blah blah blah. “When the takeover comes, which shall you be: foodstuff or… toy?”
He was staring at her breasts. Mari supposed she should’ve been flattered that her sex appeal transcended species but hell, she wasn’t Starfire or anything. “You know, you’ve ruined Planet of the Apes for me? I used to think a planet ruled by monkeys would be kinda neat. But you are just no Dr. Zaius.”
Again, the ‘King Kong pounding on the pavement’ bit. It cracked. Mari gulped. Still, no need to look bad in front of Power Girl. She put all her totem into Gorilla, her arms elongating and thickening until they settled on the ground. “Okay, Magilla. Let’s make this a fair fight. You animal enough to face me?”
The sustained roar answered her. She would’ve responded in kind, but she was a lady after all. He rushed her, clambering over the cars in the way, and she charged him.
In the Watchtower, Power Girl watched on satellite read-out as the two collided, circled each other, pounded their own chests. With tits like Vixen’s, that had to hurt.
Poison Ivy too watched as they pounded into each other, meaty fists flailing, flinging each other about like rag dolls into parked cars and chunks of scattered masonry. But she was far closer. And somewhat more appreciative of Vixen’s charms.
Grodd was the veteran when it came to fighting in this form. Picking up Vixen, he slammed her down on a cherry Corvette once, twice, three times.
“Fight well,” he admonished. “I may allow you to become my mate.”
Vixen kicked out with her boot, catching him in the thigh and sending him staggering back. “Man, I know about gorillas and their ‘proportions’. If your action figure was anatomically correct, it’d still be a Ken doll.”
With a roar, Grodd struck out with his mind. Telekinetic force hit Vixen and drove her back, rolling her off the car and onto a ground strewn with shattered glass. Only the body armor of an abalone saved her from shredding her skin.
“Oh, so we’re doing the psychic thing?” she asked. As long as he was cheating…
Channeling the jaw of a hyena, Vixen leapt for him. He swung at her, a backhand that would’ve taken a man’s head off, but she was too fast all on her own. She ducked under it and bit into his arm.
Hyena’s jaws were stronger than those of lions, tigers, or wolves. They could crush elephant bones. Hers easily sunk into Grodd’s hide deep enough to snap the bone. He shrieked in agony as she drew back, now calling on the strength of a blue whale. People didn’t commonly think of whales as strong, but it took a lot of power to survive the water pressure of the depths, to move all that blubber. One swing punched him through four cars.
When he came to a stop, wolf’s ears told her he was snoring. Now to check on the tech. She looked over where Grodd had set it down—she was sure it hadn’t shifted in the fight—but all she saw was a bit of moss growing on the car door it’d been leaning against. I don’t suppose it’s some kind of agricultural experiment…
Quick as a whip, a tentacle snagged her foot and pulled it out from under her. Her chin bounced off the hood of a car before she hit the ground, looked down to see it was a vine right out of the rain forest.
Poison Ivy.
The woman herself came strolling out of the woods, through a hole her vines had made in the fence. She was just the kind of woman Mari might’ve gone for under different circumstances. Women in the circles she traveled in tended to be either tall and lean, like herself, or big and muscular like Big Barda. Either could be fun, but damnit, she was shallow. It was her right to be, she was a model. And sometimes, she wanted a lover, not a fighter.
Ivy was certainly that. Her body seemed built for nothing but sex. Long, toned legs that led inexorably up to a heart-shaped ass, her breasts full and firm and overflowing from her body into her clothes, though her skin was covered only in the curlicuing vines of her namesake. Her green-tinted skin and red-burnished hair lent her an exotic quality that Mari would’ve loved to explore further.
With each approaching step, the leaves on her vines shifted in the wind, flashing at Mari hints of nipples and other lusciously bared flesh. She even thought she could see Ivy’s clover-toe.
“Mmmm. Vixen.” Ivy chewed on a fingernail. “Thank you for taking out Grodd. I thought I really would have to follow through with his plan and help him take over the world. I’m sure you’ll agree, anything is better than men in charge, but at the end of the day, a bunch of gorillas running things is pretty much just people with worse body odor.” She batted her eyelashes. “Now, however can I reward you?”
Mari wasn’t stupid. She could feel Ivy’s pheromones going to work on her. Nipples tingling. Pulse racing. Clit hardening. It was like Wonder Woman had walked into the room. “Not gonna work, Ivy. I’d die first.”
Ivy ran her finger from her full lips down to… oh God… she moved the vines right out of the way with that finger. “Then why not go out with a bang?”
Startled, Vixen tried to move—too late—as more vines gripped her, winding themselves around her arms and legs. Ivy stepped closer, the leaves falling from her ropey covering. More and more of her was exposed, and Mari felt her heart race faster and faster. The feelers crept from her limbs to her torso, over her crotch, into the plunging neckline of her bodysuit, around her stiff nipples…
“Normally I have a thing about animals, and you’re sort of all of them at once, aren’t you? But I’ve made exceptions for mammals before. Grodd may be in dire need of manscaping, but he did have some good taste. How about it, Vixen?”
***
Up on Watchtower, Power Girl watched with bated breath. She had to do something. She had to get to the teleporter, beam down, and save Vixen.
Before they started without her.
***
But Karen, not wanting to miss a second of the seduction, had wasted too much time at the monitor. Before she could even spin up the teleporter, Mari had responded.
A while back, Mari had been mind-controlled into serving a religious cult. It was a fundamentalist cult, not one of those hippie-drippy things, so there’d been no hanky-panky. But she’d only gotten out from under it by literally making an ass of herself. Next time she doubted she’d be so lucky, and she had no intention of being in a Lifetime movie. So she’d trained herself for whenever some pervert got mind-control powers and thought of getting some brown sugar. Almost instinctively, she channeled a power she’d acquired on her last adventure with Rip Hunter—the penis of a prehistoric timberwolf.
Ripping free of her bonds, she jumped Ivy, bearing her to the ground and topping her. Ivy’s eyes bulged as she saw the sausage-thick outline at the crotch of Mari’s costume.
“Listen up, Ivy. You want to drive me crazy with lust, you go ahead. This thing’s about to rip right out of my uniform and you can guess where it’s headed next. Once that happens, I’ll knot you. We’ll be tied together for hours. Long enough for back-up to arrive. The League will hush the whole thing up, once they pull me out of you. That won’t be pleasant either. So unless you’re a much bigger dog-person than I figure, cut that shit out.”
All of a sudden, it was like Ivy just wasn’t her type. Ivy raised her hands, an expression of coy sheepishness on her face. Then something whirling and black collided with her head. Knocked her out cold.
The voice came out of nowhere, like a Beyonce album: “Sorry to interrupt, but she has an Arkham reunion to attend.”
Vixen didn’t know if Ivy was still pumping out a few pheromones or if she was just that easy. Either way, Batwoman’s husky voice did it for her. “Sounds fun. Can she take a gorilla as her Plus One?”
The Bat stepped out of some shadows, and Mari decided yes, she was that easy, because this was the third woman in as many minutes that she wouldn’t kick out of bed for eating crackers. Shorter than she imagined, but wasn’t that true of everyone? Vixen was a model, she’d been to Hollywood. Everyone there was shorter and gayer than they seemed on-screen.
“Speaking of a Plus One…” Batwoman glanced significantly downward.
Vixen quickly stopped channeling the timber wolf. “Would you believe I’m just happy to see you?”
Batwoman smiled wryly, but like all Bats, was quick to business. “You have the superstrength, you take care of Mighty Joe Young. I’ll hold onto Ivy.” She took a moment to eye the redhead who, semi-conscious, woozily preened. “Mmm… she looks good in handcuffs, doesn’t she?”
***
The proper League Support vehicles to transport Grodd and Ivy would take time to arrive. In the meantime, they carried the prisoners into one of STAR’s vaults—an artless white room packed with boxes of Dr. Kirby’s incomprehensible tech. Batwoman used her bottomless utility belt to sedate Grodd and slap Ivy with a pheromone inhibitor. Vixen dusted herself off from the fight with Grodd, noting Batwoman’s interest in the push and pull of her costume.
With the crisis resolved, Mari likewise occupied herself with some artistic appreciation of the female form—in this case, Batwoman’s. Wasn’t like there was much else to look at in the sterile room.
She really wasn’t tall. She’d be petite if it weren’t for her high-heeled boots; and Vixen had thought those were impractical. As well, her skin was ghostly-pale to go with her blood-red hair. Goddamn Bats, being so brooding and goth and tight leather. At least the Batgirls had the common courtesy to be underage.
And something about that cherubic face, rendered fearsome by the mask, stirred Mari’s memory. Did she know her in her civilian identity? Maybe she was another model slash hero. Herself, Kory, and Batwoman. They’d make a fine threesome. Err, trio.
Vixen forced herself to business. The Gotham crew didn’t tend to be impressed by chit-chat. “So, what’d they nab?”
“Resonance Cascader,” Batwoman explained. Or thought she explained. Off Vixen’s look: “Makes earthquakes.”
Vixen looked at Ivy. The elemental was seated, her hands tied behind her back, but her legs free… and open. If it weren’t for the regrown vines, Vixen would be able to see her flower. “That sounds dangerous. Why don’t you tell us where it is and we’ll take care of it for you.”
“Well, since your spread in Vogue last July kept me warm on so many lonely Arkham nights, I’ll tell you that Harley took it and buried it for me to get to when I inevitably break free of Arkham.”
Vixen flashed some claws. “Tell us where it is or we’ll put you in an LA prison. You can get smog alerts with your weather reports.
Ivy smiled like she knew the punchline to a joke Mari didn’t even know she was being told. It reminded Vixen disconcertingly of the Joker. “Do you know what it’s like in Arkham? Four gray walls. Doughy orderlies. Not a lot of stimulation. Us ladies don’t even shower together. All we have are our memories.”
“My heart weeps,” Vixen said, leaning over her.
Ivy pressed her lips together tightly. “Ooh. Bend over a little further and you’ll have nothing to be sorry about.”
Vixen didn’t bend any further. But she did growl. “This isn’t a peep show.” Though she didn’t straighten either.
“It could be.” Mari watched Ivy’s full lips rub sinuously together. And they call me Vixen. “They keep it so hot in Arkham. So warm and dry. If you could just give something to think about while I’m locked away—something to keep me nice and wet. If you two could kiss. That would be worth a few directions.”
Mari and Batwoman looked at each other. What she saw in Batwoman’s eyes shocked her. Not confusion. Not even determination. It was… eagerness.
With no warning beyond that look, Batwoman’s lips were pressed to Vixen’s. Her kiss wasn’t what she would’ve expected: cold and domineering. Instead it was warm, submitting, eager to please. And as red as they were, Batwoman’s lips tasted as sweet as candy.
Mari had to force herself to stop kissing Batwoman. It was just supposed to be one little kiss, after all. Not… what she felt like doing. What her throbbing groin, her burning breasts wanted her to do.
“All right, you got your sweeps-week lesbianism!” she fairly shouted at Ivy. “Where’s the Cascader?”
Ivy wove her head from side to side, hair sashaying around her lovely face. “Oh… twenty feet north of that hole in the fence, I’d say. In the woods.”
Mari took a few steps back from Batwoman, whose breasts were heaving behind her red insignia. They had pressed up against Mari’s chest as the two kissed…
Batwoman took a visibly deep breath. “I’ll have Doc Hamilton go there and scan.” She detached herself into the corner to make the call.
Vixen kept an eye on Ivy. She could see her toes curl with a tension that flowed up her legs. “Somehow I don’t think I’m the only person who’ll keep warm thinking of that,” Ivy said.
“Quiet, bitch.”
“No need to thank me. Happy to be of service.”
“I said shut up.”
“Maybe you can service me too…”
Batwoman came back before Mari could show Ivy what being kissed with vampire bat teeth felt like. “Hamilton’s scanning for the Cascader’s energy. He says he’s picking it up.” She smiled feebly at Mari’s evident distress. “Wasn’t that bad a kiss, was it?”
“No, no, we were—you were—it was fine.” Mari huffed. “I’m just really looking forward to getting home and taking one cold-ass shower.”
Batwoman’s cape was cinched tightly around her. “Or… we could do something else.”
Vixen looked. In the shadows and blackness, only Batwoman’s eyes were visible. They were still eager.
They dropped away. “Sorry, guess I caught a few of Ivy’s pheromones myself. Right now I could even go for what Grodd was selling?”
“A Planet of the Apes remake without James Franco?”
“Clothes ripped off. Fucked hard. Tied up, even.” Batwoman smiled a bit shyly. “Shame he doesn’t have the equipment to back it up. Like some villains I could name…”
Batwoman’s communicator chirped. “Batwoman, this is Dr. Hamilton. I’ve twenty feet north of your location, but there’s no sign of the stolen tech. It is nearby, though. I’m picking up a lot of resonant energy.”
Vixen’s hand was at Ivy’s throat, found there like frost first thing in the morning. “No more games, green thumb! Where’s the Resonance Cascader?”
Despite it all, her grip wasn’t tight enough to impede Ivy’s speech. “Close. I said I’ve give you directions. Plural. But you’re going to have to get me warmer than that little motherly peck first.”
Vixen released Ivy with a shove, a lock of fiery hair dropping over Ivy’s mint-green face. “Fuck this. Hamilton, can’t you just walk around with your sensor until you’re standing on it? You know, getting warmer, getting colder, getting warmer?”
“It’s New Genesisian technology, Ms. McCabe. It’ll get hungry if I do that.”
Vixen looked at Batwoman quizzically, but she just nodded. Go with it. Then she pulled an earpiece from her belt and set it on Ivy. “Relay the directions to Hamilton. Tilt your head far to the left to speak and he’ll hear you.”
Mari was aghast… at how not aghast she was. Still, she could fake it. If she could pretend wearing Alexander McQueen was comfortable, she could fake aghastment. “We are not making out for Ivy’s spank bank! What would Batman say?”
“Batman isn’t here.” Her voice was dipping down octaves, straight to a level that resonated with Mari’s groin. “No one’s here. Just us.”
“Grodd’s here. What if he wakes up?”
“Who cares? You’re a model. I thought you liked having an audience.”
“I, uh, I…” Vixen glanced at Ivy, who was watching all this with rapt attention. Meeting her gaze made Mari’s nipples pop up like top hats. “Alright, you sick fuck, what happens next in this perverted fanfic you’ve got running in your head?”
Ivy smiled lasciviously at her before turning to Batwoman, her smile widening. “Vixen looks a little nervous. Why don’t you stroke her hair a little and calm her down, just like I do for you?”
Just like I do for you, Mari wondered. She’d heard about Batman and Catwoman, and everyone knew Nightwing was a slut, but damn. How could people in Gotham be so angsty if they were getting that much?
Mari moved first. She damn sure wouldn’t give up the initiative, even to one of Batman’s disciples. She reached out and ran her hand through Batwoman’s exposed hair like she was trying to shave it off. It felt odd—not as smooth and sleek as it looked. Maybe they didn’t have hair salons in Gotham City. That would explain a lot.
Batwoman raised her hands, but stopped with them in mid-air. “Is it alright if I touch your hair? I know a lot of you people are particular about that.”
“You people?”
“You know, models?” Batwoman smiled innocently. “You like having every hair just so for the paparazzi.”
Vixen shook her head. Maybe she was from Rann or something. You never could tell in the Justice League.
Batwoman reached up and ran her hands through the stylized mop of brown hair adorning Vixen’s head. Mari knew what she’d find. Her hair was carefully maintained by the best hair stylists in the business, preserved like a religious artifact: soft and glossy, with the faint smell of the chemical products that kept it from frizzing. She was all for natural hair, but she genuinely liked it looking just this way.
Batwoman bunched the dark hair in her hands, sending it spilling through her fingers. Her fingertips, unyielding in their red leather, scraped against Mari’s scalp and her other hand ran over Mari’s head, the touch surprisingly supple even through the glove. It caressed, it soothed. Mari sighed breathily—she was growing calm, even with the situation as tense as it was.
Batwoman tugged a little on her hair, torqueing her, before once more deftly working her fingers through Mari’s hair. Her touch was just as expert as anyone Vixen had taken to bed, as intimate on her head as a lover would be on Mari’s breasts, her hips, her mouth. All places Mari could feel start to hunger for Batwoman’s touch, for Batwoman herself.
Mari leaned back, into the conniving touch, and bared her throat to Batwoman, asking for a kiss that didn’t come. Their thighs were brushing against each other. Electric. She’d thought this only happened to Wonder Woman.
Ivy tilted her head to the side, as if getting a better angle to see them. “Dr. Hamilton, Ivy here. Facing north, turn thirty degrees to your left and proceed ten feet.”
“Yes… yes, strong readings over here…” Hamilton announced over Vixen’s communicator.
Ivy straightened, her smile wide and ghoulish. “Vixen, since you’ve gotten so close to the Bat, why don’t you two hug? Nice and tight?”
All Batwoman had to do was spread her arms and Vixen gave in almost too quickly. She felt Batwoman’s breasts spread softly across her own chest. Her nipples were hard, poking right through her costume. They seemed to burn holes in Mari’s chest.
“Yes, that’s it,” Ivy faintly moaned. “Rub your hands all over each other. Make it feel goooood.”
Batwoman’s arms locked around her, and Mari shivered as she felt them moving down her body to cup her curvy ass. Instead of outrage, it started a fluttery sensation in her belly. Or intensified one that was already there. Batwoman was so gentle, like she was hoping Mari wouldn’t notice two handprints on her backside. And Mari felt the pressure of Batwoman’s tits, grinding into her own with each fierce pump of her lungs.
She was barely aware of how her body responded to Batwoman, how she wiggled herself enticingly into the contact, pushed her mound against the crotch of Batwoman’s armor. And she clung to Batwoman, dizzy with excitement, face burning, as Batwoman’s lips met her mouth once more.
It was better this time. Batwoman was once more submissive, obedient, but now that brought out the animal in Vixen. She wanted to dominate Batwoman, fuck her. Make her her bitch.
Past the horns of Batwoman’s cowl, Mari saw Ivy rocking back and forth, her thighs clenching, her breath coming in delirious gasps. Mari knew what she was thinking, seeing the two women’s breasts crushed together: how wonderful it would be to have her face between that wonderfully curved flesh.
Especially with what they were wearing. Batwoman looked to be wearing bondage gear in this context, and Vixen’s savannah-yellow costume was skintight to show the full outline of her sleek body, with a neckline cut low in the front to show the deep cleavage between her magnificent breasts. Usually, Vixen was comfortable simply in the knowledge that she looked good, felt good, but now… she was sexy. She felt sexy. She didn’t want to stop. The pleasure of touching Batwoman’s body was too great for her to let go.
Batwoman’s lips drew towards her again, but Vixen turned her head upward, so Batwoman kissed the hollow of her throat instead. It was all Mari could do to resist the inevitable. She tightened her arms around Batwoman, this time to hold her in place. Then she looked at Ivy, who was closing her eyes in glee. Like she could just smell their intimacy.
“Directions!”
Lips slack, arms held uncomfortably still by her cuffs, Ivy took a moment to force her head to the side. “Forty degrees right, thirty feet ahead, there should be a marking on the tree in front of you.” Like a flower blooming, she dipped her head and raised it again to face them. Her eyes boring into their closeness, discomfort forgotten. “Vixen… Batwoman… I want each of you to do something to undress the other.”
Batwoman cleared her throat and fingered the neckline of her cowl. Very cunningly hidden by the closure of her cape was a zipper topping her collar. Just as seamlessly, the teeth it had sealed ran down the front of her chestpiece, disappearing behind the buckle of her utility belt.
“Definite readings--!” Hamilton called over her communicator, and Mari muted it.
Shit, she thought to herself. Now what red-blooded woman could resist an offer like that? Even a straight would have to think twice about it.
She took hold of the zipper between two trembling fingers—shaking not with nervousness, but from adrenaline—and drew the zipper slowly downward. She wanted to give Batwoman time to stop her, to back out of this if she wished. Batwoman didn’t do her that favor. She smiled widely as the zipper traveled lower, lower, exposing a swath of white skin and not a hint of a bra. Until the fastener was down nearly to Batwoman’s groin, where Vixen hadn’t been able to stop herself from going but didn’t dare to go further. At any rate, she was transfixed by Batwoman’s perky breasts, half-exposed and half-obscured by what remained of the suit on her body.
Her hands ached to touch them—to move the parted suit that crucial half-inch that would expose her nipples, then further, more—more—until she was stripped bare and Mari could see if she was that pale all over. If she was a natural redhead. Encased in yellow gloves up to her elbows, her hands felt leaden… unable to work…
Until Batwoman took gentle hold of them. Squeezed them reassuringly. Fingers slipped together, caught a firm grip, and eased Mari’s gloves off her hands, one at a time. Until her sweaty palms were exposed to cold open air. She was still fully dressed, but she felt utterly naked.
Sweat was pouring down Ivy’s body, glimmering on her breasts, slick on her long legs as they knotted together. “Eat her cunt, Vixen.”
“I… I…”
Batwoman almost playfully ushered her down to her knees. Hands slipped under her utility belt and a finger pushed the zipper the rest of the way. Down between her legs. The costume parted and there was Batwoman’s slit. It was shaved totally bare, a sweet puff of delicate pink amid atonal white flesh. And it shone with moisture.
Mari was having a hard time keeping her mind on the mission, remembering where she was—thinking of anything but Batwoman’s bubble-gum pink cunt. “Ivy… you have to tell us where the Cascader is. You have to tell us where it is before I…” She looked between Batwoman’s legs and found herself moaning gently.
“Of course, Vixen. Of course…” Ivy spoke with unadulterated lust. Her voice was raspy and it was broken and it made Mari feel the exact same way. “You’re almost there now,” Ivy said into the communicator. “Turn sixty degrees to the right and walk eighty feet.” Then she growled, low and sexy. “Fuck her, Vixen. Fuck her like an animal.”
Mari didn’t know if Hamilton had heard. Didn’t care.
In the animal kingdom, there was no room for deliberation. It was fight or flight. You took or you didn’t. You ate or you didn’t. You mated or you didn’t. Thought and feeling didn’t come into it. Least of all shame.
Brusquely, Vixen grabbed Batwoman’s ass like she’d wanted to all night, angry at it being hidden from view by that damned cape. Batwoman gave a slight gasp—very gratifying to hear from a member of the Bat-clan. And Mari went down on her, devoured her, lost her tongue in Batwoman’s sex. She called on a few of her favorite animal senses as she did it. She wanted to see everything, hear everything, taste everything. And human perception was too limited for that. So it was she became aware of how quickly Batwoman’s clit became engorged, how her cunt was now wetter than ever. Batwoman moaned desperately—a sound that would be gratifying coming from anyone.
“Oh, yes-yes-yes!” she squeaked above Mari, her voice going falsetto-high with pleasure. Mari ignored its shrillness. All she cared about was that Batwoman was the one making the wild animal noises now, squirming her hips to let Mari’s tongue in, the cool leather of her glove running through Mari’s hair and over her face and neck.
“Sixty feet… sixty-five…” Hamilton was saying. “Readings are going off the charts.”
Vixen ignored that too. She didn’t ignore Ivy in the background, straining against her bonds, sweat coming down her body like a tide and the vines growing over her skin like weeds in an untended garden. She liked that. She liked being watched. She was a model. It went with the territory. And it was a little bit like—like she was channeling Ivy’s lust, taking on her mad desire and adding it to her own and expressing it with Batwoman. A threesome of sorts.
She wondered if she should ask Batwoman if she was okay with powers during sex, then decided fuck it: by any reasonable metric, she’d be happy with anything that got this over with faster, right?
Especially if it made her come…
The tongue of the giant anteater could flick in and out a hundred and fifty times a minute, devouring thousands of insects. Mari usually used the long, prehensile tongue of a giraffe instead, lavishing attention on every inner curving of a cunt, but she also liked straight-up overwhelming a bitch. Anteater: She sent her tongue against Batwoman’s sex as quickly as a motor flooded with nitrous oxide.
“Whoa momma!” Batwoman cried, her voice at a high note. “Wowie-owie-wow! Ivy, she’s eating my cunt so good! She’s so good at eating my cunt!”
Ivy’s breath ran ragged. “Find her clit, Vixen. Put it in your mouth and make her come.”
Mari didn’t listen to her. That would finish this. And she didn’t want it to end. She wanted to fuck Batwoman forever. She slowed down suddenly, dispelling her power, instead driving her tongue deep inside Batwoman and keeping it there, roaming all the sweetness within her. Batwoman giggled in shocked surprise. “I’m gonna pop! I’m gonna pop!”
Without warning, Mari channeled the anteater again and sealed her lips completely over Batwoman’s cunt. Her tongue blurred against Batwoman’s slit, the supersonic vibration sending high voltage throughout the woman’s body. Batwoman’s head tossed from side to side, red hair flying like lava from an eruption. Mari’s tongue was flying over her erogenous zones, going even faster, inside then outside, outside then inside, a dozen live wires all pressed to her crotch, all sending their own electricity fluttering through her.
“Getting close now,” Hamilton reported over the communicator. “Very close--!”
Trapped by the woman kneeling before her, Batwoman writhed and thrashed in place as the orgasms began pouring into her, each one larger and hotter than the last. She was penetrated, one by one, by shafts of impossible pleasure. Drowned in a sea of ecstasy. Burnt to ashes by fiery pleasure.
Then Mari began sucking on her clit.
“I found it! I found it!” Hamilton called.
Grodd rolled over in his sleep, crushing the offending communicator.
A torrent of indescribable pleasure washed away every thought in Batwoman’s head, much like the torrent that shot from her cunt, soaking Mari’s face, running down her own pale skin to slide over the utility belt hanging onto her wobbly knees. Where it touched, the red belt was stained a certain shade of white, but Mari didn’t see, dragged up by her Tantu Totem necklace to be met by Batwoman’s mouth, a desperate attempt to sate the feeling of lust that gripped Batwoman’s body beyond her ability to satisfy it.
They stood facing each other, breathing hard, sweat running down Batwoman’s hidden face, smearing the foundation of her make-up. I knew she wasn’t that pale in real life, Vixen thought, trying to take her mind off the unanswered throbbing in her groin. Whoever heard of an albino good guy?
Ivy panted in the background, her own orgasm hanging in the air. Her vines had completely enraptured her, tightening on her sleek thighs and around her full breasts, the tips reaching for her mouth. Small buds were appearing on the vines, dotting them like goosebumps on an extension of Ivy’s body.
“Well, we, ah—“ Mari took on the lung capacity of the blue whale to catch her breath. “We found the Resonance Cascader. Mission accomplished.”
“Yessirreebob,” Batwoman replied. “We did it. Yay us.”
“You should probably zip your costume up.”
“Should I?” Batwoman asked.
It was a rhetorical question.
They pulled together like magnets, splitting a passionate kiss, claiming each other’s bodies with eager hands. Soon, Batwoman had a firm grasp on either half of Vixen’s neckline, and had ripped it open to her naval. It was a five thousand dollar costume, all told, and Mari didn’t give a shit. The embers of their lovemaking had flared up like someone had up-ended a can of gasoline.
Their lips met and met, joined over and over again, the frenzied mating of their tongues always growing too pleasurable to stand. Repeatedly they broke apart, nipping at each other’s bared throats and ears, but always their mouths found each other again, tongues locked together, panting exhortations swallowed up by the other’s mouths.
Mari was so absorbed in the cycle that she barely noticed Batwoman’s hand sliding down the tear in her costume, between her clothes and skin, all the way to her pussy. The red leather was not cold as it stroked her there. It was hot. Boiling hot.
Mari immediately channeled the hyena. The female of the species had enviably large clits. When Batwoman discovered it, big enough to be felt through her glove, she gaped in pleased wonderment. Mari wasn’t sure how other women stood it, being heterosexual and not being able to grow a clitoris so big it could be stimulated through vaginal sex.
Batwoman giggled as she ground the heel of her hand into the lovely organ.
A moan of pleasure, both low and loud, began to emanate from Mari. It continued as she was kissed, intensified as Batwoman increased the pressure of her kneading hand on Mari’s tender flesh.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Ivy was saying for both of them, making Mari think once more of the three of them being connected, sharing this as if by some mystical link. Even if her mouth was free, certainly she couldn’t sound any more pleasured than Ivy did.
Batwoman trembled, all too human for a Bat, as she ran her finger into the groove of Mari’s cunt. It opened readily for her, letting her feel all the moisture that had gathered during their meeting. Face breaking into an uncharacteristic smile, she probed deep. Wiggled her finger inside like she meant to tickle Vixen.
Mari’s moan was swallowed up by the vibrant, far louder chant of Ivy. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Batwoman took it as encouragement. She pushed her gloved finger in up to the knuckle, pumped it a few times before she added another finger. Another. Another. Mari tried to hug Batwoman to her, but her cape crinkled oddly and was too slippery to get a hold on. Instead, she grabbed hold of Batwoman’s red hair and pulled it taut as her hips instinctively responded to the fingers working inside her. She was impaled and impaling herself, forcing herself onto the invading hand, and in her mind there was not a shred of second thought or guilt.
Cocooned in such bliss, she came. Body tensing, spasming, exploding, she accidentally ripped Batwoman’s cowl and hair straight off her head. For a moment, Mari’s shuddering orgasm was tinged with the worry that she had scalped her new friend. But they had come off too easily. The mask wasn’t attached to her costume except by dangling Velcro straps. And the hair was just a wig. Underneath, a pair of petite pigtails were wrapped up in a hairnet atop a very familiar face.
“Harley Quinn!” Vixen yelled, and tried to move, channel something, but all her motion achieved was sending a tremor of aching pleasure through her body. She was too sluggish with her recent orgasm to do anything as Harley grabbed her by the hair and shoved her down between Ivy’s spread legs, into her dripping cunt. The one thing not covered by the vines criss-crossing her green body.
The buds on Ivy’s vines burst open, unveiling delicately furled petals that trembled as they caught the open air. Inside each was a beautiful flower, a gallery of colors, each blooming toward Harley as if the disguised villainess were Ivy’s sun.
Poison Ivy’s flower had been watered.
Vixen, meanwhile, slumped out of Harley’s grip, dropping to the floor unconscious. Her lips were still stained with the white make-up that had run wetly off of Harley’s body. Not that she had noticed in time.
“Ha!” Harley cried, flapping her cape as she’d restrained herself from doing for far too long. “Stupid stupor-hero! Bet she didn’t think all your lips were poisonous!”
“Maybe she was lulled into a false sense of security by giving you multiple orgasms,” Ivy complained acidly as Harley unlocked her.
“Aww, c’mon Red. I didn’t say nuthin’ when you were flirtin’ with that lady earlier.”
“That ‘lady’ is giving us a chance to—oh, what do you care?” Ivy stood, massaging her freed wrists. “You can’t understand any plan more complicated than hitting someone over the head with a mallet.”
“Hey, I fooled her into thinking I wuz Batwoman, didn’t I? You think I’m so dumb, but I was a doctor! I got a job at Arkham! You think they let just anyone work there?” Harley’s eyes wandered to Grodd. “Oh, look at the cute monkey…”
The charade over, Grodd ripped free of his so-called bindings. “Enough of this pointless unphallused mating! Spread the dark one’s legs! I’ll show her I’m ape enough for her…!”
“With what?” Ivy asked, weaving her vines into a new costume. “I hope you’re not expecting me to grow you a cock big enough for her to notice she’s being raped.”
“Yeah!” Harley cried, affronted. “She only does that for me!”
“The dark one must pay for her insolence!”
“Remember the plan,” Ivy said wearily. “Our leader, who we have both so equitably agreed to follow, wants the one named Vixen,” she emphasized the name, “alive and unharmed.”
“I’ll leave her alive. To speak of her unwilling pleasure for the rest of her days!” Grodd pounded his chest in emphasis.
Ivy was unimpressed. “If she finds out she had sex with you, she may just drop dead of disappointment.”
“Yeah, keep it in your pants, Grodd!” Harley taunted.
“He doesn’t wear pants,” Ivy reminded her. “Let’s just get her back to base. We all still have parts to play tonight, before the heroes realize they’re on notice. Once that’s done, we’ll see about getting you laid.” The botanist’s green eyes roamed Harley’s body. “Perhaps I can convince Harley to dig up her banana costume from Halloween. She seems to have a thing for men who don’t have much in the way of manhood. Errr, I meant humanity.” She smiled brightly. “Really.”
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The Equilibrium Deviance