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Marry The Knight	By : Ksennin Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 96985 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own DC Comics, the Batman franchise, or any other Batman characters. I make no money from publishing this story.

Chapter List
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A/N: This chapter was betaed by Nomani and Spring. As always, if you have an idea for a fic, send me an e-mail so we can discuss it.
The only thing Kory hated about coming home to the Clocktower was that she had to fly through a mile of subway to get to it. A scantily-clad superhero couldn’t be seen flying into Oracle’s secret headquarters, after all.
But after a few minutes of flying without sunlight, she came home, which was warmer by far. She flew up through the elevator shaft, and shot right onto Barbara’s floor.
Kory loved Dick with a fervor that was only equaled by her relationship with Donna, but it was possible that what she loved best about being married to Dick was his other wives. Dinah was so glamorous and lighthearted - like her - and they got along like sisters. While Barbara was smart and calculating, a bit like Donna and a bit like Dick had once been: the perfect project for Kory to work on and cheer up and make love to.
She walked through their shared loft. Though each of them had their own little quadrants in the vast floor that held their residences, the influences of one swept through all the others. Donna’s photography was particularly popular, as were her gifts of Amazonian artifacts, while the smell of Dinah’s cooking and taste in take-out cuisine could be detected just about everywhere. As for Kory herself, she had enjoyed teaching the others how to care for the Tamaranian plants that now tagged virtually every room on the floor. With proper feeding, they bore very succulent fruit.
Kory went to the corner of the library—of course, in Barbara’s building, the first room through the elevator doors was a library—and found her es’crul plant thriving in spite of Barbara’s earlier warnings about how she didn’t have time to care for a plant. Picking an edible petal from one of its flowers, she savored the taste of home.
Then she heard Dinah’s voice from behind her. “Are those safe for humans to eat?”
Kory swirled with a smile, perhaps using just a bit of her flight ability to give her hair-toss an extra kick. “Very much so—just like everything on Tamaran.”
Dinah smiled back at her, smoothing an errant lock of her own behind her ear. “Good. I’ve already had, like, twenty.”
Kory very pointedly widened her smile as she looked Dinah over. A certain part of her that went with her green eyes judged that Dinah wasn’t quite as curvy as her—but it was a near thing. And more importantly, Dinah unknowingly held to a high Tamaranian philosophy: if you’re going to defeat someone in battle, you should look good doing it.
Dinah looked very good doing anything.
“And do you still have an—appetite?”
Dinah licked her lips, her own eyes tracking Kory’s hand as it trailed down the cool metal of the Tamaranian’s armor. What little there was of it, anyway. Tamaranians had very few vital organs to protect…
“Now that you mention it… I’ve been wanting to ride you all day.”
“What’s stopping you, wife-fellow?”
***
“Babs, come ride Kory with me! It’s amazing!”
The bespectacled redhead didn’t look up from her computer, but she did look at the faint reflection on the monitor. Dinah was behind her, straddling Kory as the Tamaranian floated through the air while doing a joking breaststroke.
“Busy,” Barbara replied. Her terseness, as usual, signaled that this was not one of those times where she wanted Dinah to ‘persuade’ her to give up the keyboard.
Dinah pulled on Kory’s hair, reining her to a stop. “C’mon, Babs…”
“You come on! Ivy just came up with her new plan to kill Bruce.”
Unprompted, Kory flew to stand beside Barbara, Dinah awkwardly balancing atop Kory’s six feet and four inches. “Will he be alright? What is it?”
Barbara could’ve blushed at how simultaneously scared and determined Kory sounded. Not an ounce of cynicism in her. She would love and defend anyone, especially the adopted father of her beloved Dick Grayson.
“Nothing too bad.” Barbara called up the relevant surveillance footage as Dinah pushed through Kory’s mane of reddish-gold hair to see it. “She’s been up all night breeding a new species of plant. Near as I can place it, it’s based on something that grows in Borneo.”
She tapped on the monitor with her index finger, despite her hatred of smudges. If she couldn’t show off a little for her alien sister-wife, what was the point?
“The leaves are edible, and they’re the best thing to happen to penises since the blue pill. Just chew one and it doesn’t matter if you’ve gone ten rounds with Huntress, you’re instantly back—up.”
Dinah kept hanging off Kory’s strong back like she was a baby in a papoose. “We could use some of that around her. Much simpler than getting another husband.”
“Yeah, unfortunately it has a hell of a kick. An overdose—and by that I mean about three—causes fatal heart failure. I’ve sent a sample to Dr. Holland in Louisiana.”
“Swamp Thing,” Dinah whispered to Kory.
“Ooh, I like him.”
“He,” Barbara stressed, calling their attention back to her. She may not have wanted to give a briefing, but as long as she was, they would listen to her. “Is working on a safe version to swap out with Ivy’s.”
“Not to mention make a fortune,” Dinah added.
Kory nodded, which Dinah avoided by ducking her head. “Ivy would do far more good if she used her abilities for niceness instead of evil. Why invent such a thing only to use as a murder weapon? Why not patent it, sell it for profit, and use the proceeds to simply buy the woodlands she wants preserved?”
“Well, she’s a crazy person,” Barbara explained. “But we’re working on that.”
“Working hard,” Dinah giggled.
Suddenly, Bruce’s voice came over Barbara’s speakers. “Yes, Ms. Lance. Very hard.”
Barbara gestured to her headset. “Ladies, this is why you shouldn’t interrupt me when I’m working. Not even to ride Kory.”
“That wasn’t what it sounded like!” Dinah said hurriedly.
“Well, let’s not be hasty,” Kory countered.
Bruce’s voice steamrolled over them, cool and efficient. “Ivy’s antisocial behavior stems from the loss of control she felt when Dr. Woodrue experimented on her, leading to a pathological rejection of society in favor of identifying with nature. This went along with her developing a superiority complex; not helping was the fact that she truly is incredibly powerful. Egotism, megalomania, narcissism—all a defense mechanism. Think out her plan: she’ll offer herself to me, trusting I’ll find her so desirable that I’ll accept a strange drug from a known poisoner just so I can copulate with her repeatedly. To break through her defenses, I’ll have to allow her some measure of power over me—then demonstrate to her that the loss of power isn’t necessarily a negative experience.”
“And how will you do that?” Barbara asked.
He paused. “That’s a private matter, Oracle. Speaking of which, you didn’t happen to watch me during my engagement with Quinzel, did you?”
“Absolutely not, Christian Grey. Good luck with the green queen.”
“Luck isn’t a factor. Going offline. And Barbara—spend some time with your wives. Dick’s showing signs of fatigue on patrol.”
The line went dead.
Barbara straightened her glasses guiltily. “I don’t know what he’s talking about. And I saw Dick first anyway, so…”
Kory was too busy wiping the sweat from her brow to notice Barbara’s fluster. “Was it just me, or was that a little hot?”
***
First thing in the morning, Bruce showed up at Harley and Ivy’s room with breakfast. Harley, of course, took it in bed, drowning her pancakes in syrup. Ivy wasn’t hungry, except for the possibility of getting Bruce alone.
Naturally, he offered it like he was obeying her pheromones.
“Pamela, if you’re not busy, would you mind accompanying me to the greenhouse? There’s something I’d like to show you.”
“There’s something I’d like to show you as well,” Pamela grinned, picking up her new rosebush in its cute little pot. The leaves were coming in quite nicely. “You first, husband dear.”
Gesturing her after him, they left Harley to lick the syrup off her nose by herself.
As she walked behind Bruce, Pamela desperately wished that she had a knife to put between his shoulder blades. She kept picturing him putting his meaty animal hands on Harley. And to think, he’d actually tricked the little fool into thinking she’d enjoyed it.
Well, they’d see how he enjoyed her. A real woman. A goddess.
“As I said, I think you could do wonderful things at Wayne Enterprises.” Bruce looked back at her as he prattled on, sparing barely a glance for the little potted plant she bore before her. “There’s one particular project that I think would be right up your alley. Tell me what you think.”
He pushed open the double doors. And like they’d been teleported, they were outside—the austerity and gloom of the manor giving way to a bright, warm greenhouse.
Ivy suppressed a shudder as she felt sunlight’s familiar caress on her green skin. Her wedding dress long discarded, she’d quickly resumed wearing her leafy costume. And people thought it was just what she wore. It was armor, as much as a Celt’s war paint or a soldier’s camouflage. But because it showed some skin, everyone thought it just meant she wanted to fuck them.
As usual, that was to her advantage. “Mmmm,” she moaned erotically, brushing the leaves down the slope of her cleavage, showing her breasts almost to her moss-green nipples. “The sun feels so nice in here. Tell me, Brucie, do you tan?”
“Not as much as I should,” Bruce confessed with a chuckle. “But please, we can sun ourselves later. I really have to show you this.”
“Mmmmm,” Ivy repeated herself, withdrawing some foliage from the back of her costume until she was practically wearing a thong. “I’d love to see anything you have to show me.”
There was another reason she wasn’t wrenching a knife out of Bruce’s body at the moment, aside from the difficulties that that would give even the most pheromone-happy inheritance judge. Bruce cut a sweet figure in that cerise-colored polo shirt and white slacks. She would enjoy using him up, having the sum total of his life and death inside her. There was a beautiful naturalism to the thought. She’d reclaim his cruelty and arrogance as waste water was reclaimed from the soil.
Bruce played at obliviousness, walking her toward one of the many attractions in the miniature forest of the greenhouse. This one looked like a rubber tree, but it didn’t feel the same to Ivy through the Green. It was oily somehow. Malnourished.
She resisted the urge to start fixing it. Later. When Wayne was dead, she’d turn his entire mansion into a jungle. A proper garden.
“I know how sensitive you are about the logging industry,” Bruce said, patting the trunk of the strange tree for a handhold like he was thinking of climbing it. “But it’s unrealistic to expect the whole world to just give up lumber to please you. So I thought, what if we can have both? Lumber, and healthy, thriving trees?”
“Co-existence?” Ivy sneered, and it took real strength of will to keep from laughing bitterly. The only way metal coexisted with the tree was when the tree simply grew around it, as she had done with Harley.
“Exactly. I thought of how trees shed leaves every year, with no harm to the plant, and how sheep are shorn without hurting them at all. Why can’t lumber be the same—ah!” He got his grip and pulled at the trunk. To Ivy’s utter surprise, a thick slab of wood came off the trunk, almost to the core. “Way.”
Ivy stepped forward, fingers clawing to send poison straight into Wayne’s bloodstream.
But through the Green she sensed something—the tree wasn’t sending out any distress. It wasn’t hurt. No more so than it would be with a piece of bark scraped off, or a twig snapped away. Already, she could feel the lost wood growing back, wanting to grow back.
“It’s not perfect,” Bruce said, setting the lumber aside. “It takes far too long for the wood to grow back and it leaves the tree weak. That’s fine in controlled conditions like the greenhouse, but in nature, it’d have to be much more resilient. Any input you could give us would be vastly appreciated.”
Ivy licked her apple-red lips to a sheen. Yes. Yes, this was perfect. Enough to earn him her beautiful murder. “It’s wonderful, Bruce. I think this must be your legacy. Your lasting gift to the world.”
“The first of many!” Bruce said, grinning like a clod. “Let’s give them to the world together.”
“Yes, Bruce. But first, something for us. Just for us.” Ivy set the rosebush down in a tree’s crotch. “I’m tired of being alone. I want you to have me, Bruce. And with this, you can have me so many times… so many ways.”
“Oh?”
“After you’ve come inside me, just eat one tiny leaf and you can do it all over again. As many times as you like.” Her hands freed, Ivy ran them over Bruce’s muscular chest. “As many times as I like.”
“That’s thoughtful of you,” Bruce said, taking her hands in his and squeezing them. “But I’m sure I won’t need any… herbal aids. Not with a woman as beautiful as you.”
Pamela’s eyes darkened to a shade of viridian she let few men see—and less survive. “We’ll see.”
“Tell you what. After I come, if you want to keep going, I’ll try it. But I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by my staying power. I’m no minute man!”
No, you’re a dead man. Ivy moved in close like a predator lunging, pursing her hands on his chest as she brought her lips up to his—and then shoved him back instead.
Bruce lost his balance, tumbling down among the thick buttress roots of an arjun tree.
Ivy was down atop him in an instant, losing the leaves from her body so that they fell away with her speed. She straddled him, gripping his wrists tightly and raising them over his head, pressed against the tree trunk.
Vines sprang from the wood and securely bound his hands, while more emerged from the roots to bind his ankles. She kissed him hard, running her hands over the lines of his face and then his broad torso, in ownership. He groaned, perhaps unwillingly, and shifted his hips under her. She abandoned his mouth, left him gasping, to suck on his throat.
And her ivy feelers crept up his pant legs to shred his trousers. Her slender fingers bunched in his shirt and ripped it open. Even as she gave in to his desire for her, she wanted him to know who the powerful one was.
Then, Ivy abruptly stopped, leaving an angry red hickey like a vampire’s bite on Bruce’s throat. So… mammalian.
She reared up atop Bruce, letting him take in her naked body. Before she had his life, she would have his awe.
And she had it. Her mint-green body was perfect, giving the appearance of being as carefully cultivated as a Japanese bonsai tree. Her hips wide and lush, her breasts seeming weightless despite their bountiful size, her legs endless. All leading inexorably to the perfect flower that was her face—red lips and jade eyes and blood-red hair burnished by some of the brown leaves that had fallen from her costume. A few more clung to her damp body, giving her a savage look. Nature red in tooth and claw.
The feeler that had started at Bruce’s feet reached his groin, its frond wrapping itself around the eye of his zipper and pulling it down. Bruce felt the slightly disconcerting sensation of Ivy’s plants maneuvering his manhood out of his underwear, followed by the somewhat tangy feel of the last of his clothes being reclaimed by nature.
Soon, he was laid bare before Ivy. A sacrifice offered up to a jungle goddess.
Ivy stared down at his cock, which had grown long and hard in anticipation—not that it had far to go. She raised a considering eyebrow, wondering if she’d even be able to take it.
Then she scoffed. It wasn’t that big. It’d just been a while since she’d last entertained a man, that was all. Why bother when she could get whatever she wanted from one with a few pheromones?
But no. She’d give Wayne the full treatment. Especially the dawning horror of realizing that his own pleasure had killed him.
She disdainfully petted the throbbing beast between them, like it was one of those forest creatures that knew its place. Then she lifted herself up, and eased herself down.
Even the notorious Bruce Wayne hissed through his teeth, his hands tightening on a branch overhead, as she took him inside her. Ivy felt almost as much pleasure at that as she did at the feeling of being parted, entered—surrendered to. Then, with a degree of worry, she realized he just kept going. There was more of him. Much more.
Ivy hadn’t been a virgin in a long time, although the only penetration she’d received lately had been from Harley… and those toys were quite undersized to offend disrespecting ‘Mistah J’. But it felt like she’d never had anyone so big inside her. He couldn’t really be as thick and full as he seemed, could he?
Unless he was still growing…
“You’re so beautiful, Ivy,” Bruce groaned as she came to rest with what seemed like—what had to be—all of him pulsing inside her. “How can a woman be so beautiful?”
She felt an echo of a blush at his compliment; most men lost all their charm as soon as they were inside her. But no, it was just flattery. She wouldn’t give him anything for being better at predatory maleness than his predecessors. In fact, she slapped him across the face.
“Not a woman. A goddess.”
And he smiled at her, one side of his face blooming red. “Yes, Ivy. Of course. How could I forget?” He bent his head in obeisance to kiss the skin over her heart almost chastely.
His show of respect merely angered her. She disliked the taste of being worshipped by him. Of course he was awestruck by her. How could anyone not be? But all she needed from him was his seed.
“Come for me,” she ordered him, her hips churning already, massaging his cock inside her, burying him within her.
And he was stiff, firm, unyielding. Nothing like the cold dead toys that had entered her before. He was warm and alive, his member full of pounding blood. It appealed to the animal in her; hitting just the right spots as she held it inside her.
She was having trouble denying how good it felt, having a man bow before her and offer up the homage she was due. Ferociously, she bit back the pleasure. This was about murder. Nothing else.
Arching her back, she drew him even tighter within her. And he did grit his teeth at that. She delighted in her mastery over him.
Then, Ivy belatedly realized that she was cooing. It really did feel good—much better than Harley’s overenthusiastic penetrations. Would it be so bad to enjoy this just a little bit? Already the sparks she burst with every sweep of her hips traveled her receptive body...
It wasn’t as if it was something he was doing to her. She was doing it to him! And he was very doable…
Ivy soon found herself enjoying it very much. His subjugation. Her conquest. Even the way he bucked his hips in perfect counterpoint to her receiving gulps was all in servitude to her.
She almost regretted the fact that she had to kill him, because now and forever, he was hers. Her servant and her acolyte and her whore. Even his last thoughts would be of her.
He gave all of himself to her when even Harley held back out of loyalty to her clown, and she took all of him. Everything he could—
Ivy’s tireless hips sang as she pushed them forward, hard, like she meant to swallow Bruce’s entire body within her own. Her flesh burned and burst, a cleansing forest fire that cleared what felt like acres of deadwood from her.
But at her center he remained cold steel… at least in comparison to her inferno.
It took her a few gasping breaths to realize what had happened. She’d come. He was still rock hard inside her.
She’d come. And he hadn’t.
In all her previous male encounters, Ivy had never come first. No matter how romantically her paramour presented himself, he always wound up rutting with her like an animal and lasting as long as a fruit fly. But Bruce was still there. A useful, well-cared-for, reliable… tool.
The man himself bent his head as reverently as a priest in prayer, gently kissing some of the dew from between her breasts. She knew from experience that it was sweet as syrup, without the tartness present in the sap between her legs. “I hope you enjoyed that, Ivy. Enough to repeat it, even.”
Ivy sensed a challenge in the smirk that he tried not-hard-enough to hide. A faithful tool, but one that didn’t quite know its place. She would teach it to him as he died, and on his grave she’d plant a mighty oak to commemorate his one real contribution to nature.
***
Once Harley had finished her breakfast, she thought of pushing her plate under the bed. That’d been her usual housekeeping method back when she and Ivy had stayed over at Eddie’s hideout. She would let the dishes pile up until Ivy yelled at her, or got one of her pheromone buddies to clean them up.
Now, though… it’d probably make Bruce pretty happy if he saw that she cleaned up after herself.
Wearing nothing but her Tweety Bird boxers and the top half of a standard-issue Arkham jumpsuit (she’d kept it because it was so comfy), Harley went over to the nearest kitchen, where she put her plate by the sink. Then she went to the pantry.
As she should’ve known, there was only boring, healthy food there… but there was also a grocery list hanging out in the open. She quickly grabbed a pencil and added every cereal she’d seen during the ad breaks of her Saturday morning cartoon.
Then she realized she could make Bruce even happier.
Rinsing her plate and silverware off in the sink, she scrubbed them clean and set them in the dishwasher, and then returned to the bedroom for Ivy’s. As Ivy hadn’t eaten her pancakes, Harley gobbled them down for her. Pam was an environmentalist, right? She would’ve hated waste.
Soon, Ivy’s plate and silverware had joined Harley’s in the dishwasher. Harley thought about how pleased Bruce would be with her when he saw how she’d kept his pad nice and tidy. In fact, she’d like to see Ivy make him that happy!
***
Ivy was determined not to give Bruce that power over her again. She would bring him to a quick, hard orgasm, feed him the leaf, and only then allow herself—allow him—to enter her.
She stood up (shuddering as her freshly-fucked pussy met the greenhouse’s damp air), and reseated herself in Bruce’s lap, crossing her ankles behind his back and nestling her sex against his still-erect manhood.
Like a potter at a wheel, she caught the snake in her hands. She felt it jump between her palms as she gave Bruce what amounted to a lapdance—grinding herself into his body until she was as close as moss to a tree, rubbing her hard nipples against his chest, even nuzzling the sides of his neck with her soft lips.
Finally, she heard the softest whisper of his breath quickening.
This was it.
Riding his thighs, she manipulated his cock over the outside of her pussy, its head poring over her labia and up to her inflamed clit. It was getting to him. She knew it. She could see the beads of sweat on his forehead as she sweetly caressed his cock with her sex, an electricity seeming to crackle between them—softly, gently building, a low-level hum that grew and grew.
“You’re going to come for me,” she announced, squeezing his powerful cock and feeling it almost resist her. She loved its heated, concentrated stiffness, but only because she took it as a sign of her power over him.
“After you,” he said blithely.
She pressed him firmly against her, parting her lips on his shaft, riding up and down over every little vein. At the tip, there was the slippery feel of his precum. She enthusiastically rubbed it between her palms like she was moisturizing. Rubbed them both, masturbating herself as she jerked him off, trapping his cock between their bodies as she rubbed them together, moaning obscenely as she fingered herself instead of letting him penetrate her. Hearing the strain of his bonds as he tested their strength.
He was weakening. A little more, a little more…
She was inches from his face, her lips parted, her eyes locked with his when he kissed her for the first time. His tongue in her mouth like that was all the penetration he needed, an incredible passion there, a power that she couldn’t contain, that she could only ride and shape and accept into herself—All too soon she felt her embers flaring into a roaring flame once more.
Ivy would’ve thought that her last orgasm would’ve left only ashes, nothing more to burn, but Bruce poured gasoline all over her. Her back went rigid and her groin bloomed with heat and when she finally went slack, it was only to collapse atop him.
His body was soft, oiled with sweat, a bed she could coil up on and indulge her sated weariness—all but his manhood, nudging insistently against the flesh of her thighs.
Bruce smiled sweetly. “Had enough?”
“How can you ask me that?” Ivy demanded, her impatience shining through. “You haven’t even come yet!”
“I can always do that with Harley.”
Face twisted into a snarl, Ivy grabbed him by the base of his cock and impaled herself on him.
***
After a round of Saint’s Row The Third, Harley decided to take an afternoon nap. When she woke up, she decided to go on Amazon and order some toys. If she didn’t spruce the place up, it could get awfully dull in Wayne Manor.
***
Now Ivy rode Bruce so hard that every swing of her hips rammed his back into the tree trunk. Leaves were falling down around them in pointed contrast to the violence of the coupling they surrounded. The tree itself groaned with the stress it was enduring. Ivy didn’t care. She had to conquer Bruce. He had to be hers, damn it!
She relented only to tease him, pleased with the fevered gasps her respite brought as her hips continued to roll on his pelvis. Then she raked her nails through his chest hair as she surged against him again, so hard that her breasts slapped against his face, going too fast for even their exquisite softness to be painless. She could tell his resistance couldn’t last.
Ivy’s eyes drifted close and her world became silence, just the staccato chorus of her jaw working its little exercises to try to contain the pleasure. It didn’t work. She let out a squeal that had her opening her eyes to see if Bruce had heard her. And he had. His face was grinning and filled with pleasure. She realized her own cheeks had pulled into a smile.
And so, either out of vexation with him or fear of her own growing response, she stopped dead. Every delicious movement of her body around his cock stilled. She waited for him to beg.
He didn’t, just sat there, evenly meeting her gaze, seeming to luxuriate in the tightness of her hot cunt without ever caring if she’d continue. So she rocked just a little, an idle motion designed to tease and tantalize. It certainly did for her, lightning shooting through her blood.
Bruce exhaled softly, but made no other reaction, content to enjoy her ministrations.
Her hands ran soothingly through the soft hair of his chest, trailing over the marks her fingernails had made. His nipples were as erect as her own, and she played them between her fingers. His head drifted back, a dreamy smile on his face as he rested against the tree—like she was giving him a massage.
It was maddening, insulting, unfair. She had power over him, but only what he gave her. Aside from that, he was immune to all her tricks, her poses, her ploys. He was her prisoner beneath her, but he’d chosen to be.
And it turned her on. That frightened her more than anything.
She could leave right now. She almost did, easing herself off his turgid erection, feeling her pussy tingle as it was abandoned. Every perfect inch of him left her one at a time. And the fire in her belly that had done nothing but spread and spread began to die.
“Nnnnnh!” Ivy cried, throwing herself back down onto his cock, her head thrusting back in the ecstasy of sudden fulfillment, her crimson hair falling back to tickle at the small of her back. It was impossible to resist. Her hips darted up and slammed down, taking even more of his relentless cock inside herself.
“Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“Ivy,” Bruce moaned out, the first chink in his armor, an admission of weakness that threw fuel on her fire.
Losing all her composure, Ivy’s mouth dropped open and her eyes bugged out in the O-face that Harley had so much fun teasing her about. Her orgasm fired inside her, but wasn’t enough. In rapid succession, Ivy bounced herself atop Bruce’s cock another half-dozen times, then dropped her hand between her thighs and frantically flicked her clit until a second explosion took her. This time, she felt a liquid rush and heard a gushing splatter as her sap squirted from her, all the way to Bruce’s chest.
“Yessssssss,” Ivy rasped, sweat dripping from her heaving breasts as she lost her balance, having to throw an arm back to support herself as she floated down from her climactic high.
Bruce’s cock was angrily hard inside her, pinning her in place.
“Satisfied?” he asked, a tranquil smile greeting her when her eyes finally opened.
Ivy’s voice emerged from her afterglow sickly sweet. “Not until you are, husband.” She assumed her sarcasm was lost on him.
***
Awake from her nap, Harley went to some of her favorite forums and whittled away the afternoon responding to those who criticized her by posting aggressive .gifs. Stupid Bronies had no idea what My Little Pony was all about.
It was only when she sighted one of those pop-up ads asking her to take a survey about Bruce Wayne’s double wedding that she thought of where Bruce and Ivy had gotten to. Probably doing something boring, like going over their pre-nuptial agreement.
***
In the greenhouse, the quiet was almost tranquil. The screaming orgasm and frenzied mating of the last bout had been forgotten. Ivy had decided that this time, she would allow herself one gentle orgasm from Bruce Wayne before she really got down to the business of killing him. And so her well-rounded ass moved in gentle, rhythmic circles, around and around in a perfect O, letting her feel all of Bruce inside her. First here. Then there. Everywhere.
The meditative sounds of the greenhouse’s few machines and those of the animals that had been permitted inside melded with the liquid sound of Bruce’s cock within Ivy’s dripping womanhood, with the fleshy rasp of their thighs rubbing together, with the low purr of Ivy’s breathing as she absorbed the pleasure Bruce gave her like a plant would take in water.
“Oh yes,” she muttered in a loving litany. “Oh, that’s it. That’s it. Just like that. Just like that…”
Bruce’s chest worked like a bellows, his strong breath gusting out of his body and rumbling back in. With Ivy twined around his torso, staying where she’d collapsed the last time, each breath shifted her body around, lazily moving her lips to new place to kiss and suck. She found his mouth on one pitched intake of air, cutting off that steady breath with her soft, wide lips, her hands playing at his neck and hair.
His passion was—pleasing for her to contemplate. The way he seemed hungry not just for a beautiful body, but for her… reminded Ivy of Harley, in a distant way.
Soon, his kisses left even her breathless. Breaking free and clutching the back of his neck, she forced him into his cleavage, where he kissed each nipple as they were offered up, caressing her breasts with his mouth. When she centered him on one, he sucked on it so hard he might’ve been trying to devour her. Even Harley didn’t usually lavish such attention on her breasts, not once motorboating them ceased to amused her.
It felt so good that she had to push him back, running her hands from his thick arms to his flat stomach—now noticing the muscle, the occasional scar, all the little pleasures of his body. And he kept looking at her, bold and unafraid, but respectful. Loving, even. “I’ve never been with a woman like you before. You’re so gorgeous… and you’re so amazing. It’s like a dream. I’m fucking the most beautiful woman in the world. I’m fucking Pamela Isley…”
She kissed him and his body came alive, jumping to plunge his cock deep into her, driving her up like he meant to crash her into the ceiling. He was only allowed the one kiss, then she returned him to her breasts, where the rough stubble of his cheeks and hard suction of his mouth had become quite pleasurable. She watched the ripple of his muscles as he drove himself into her; the transfixing thought that all that power was hers to command. He’d given it to her. His wife.
Suddenly, for all her power, all her control, she found herself paralyzed. Unable even to moan out the orgasm that possessed her. She sat atop him, her throne, panting and trembling while her body was racked by spasms. She could only imagine how he felt, his manhood inside her battered by pressure and violent warmth, her arms hugging him violently as he pumped furiously into her cunt. At last it was over. She could fill her limp body with breath. He rocked her from side to side as she came down from her latest climax, her penetration a persistent reminder of his victory.
Ivy ended up staring over his shoulder into nothingness, her heavy breasts stirring against his chest with labored breathing. Her arms and legs useless, her body sucked down against his like kelp after the floodwaters had receded, she wondered if perhaps she hadn’t approached this the right way. Clearly, he had some issues with giving up control. Perhaps if she let him take the wheel—just until he died, of course—that would do the trick.
“Bruce?” she asked, cloyingly sweet. “Would you like to be on top?”
“If you don’t mind.”
“No, no--not just this once.”
She didn’t remember she had tied his hands until he’d ripped free of them. Then he had her in his arms, so powerful she felt trapped but also something else as he rolled, forcing Ivy under him. She landed on her back, the powerful buttress roots under her shoulders and knees like the armrests of a throne, and Bruce kneeling between her legs. He lifted her endless legs, kissing each as he draped them over his broad shoulders, then took hold of her hips and pulled her onto his waiting cock.
What did it matter if I screamed? Ivy would think, when she was capable of thought a few minutes later. It wasn’t like there was anyone around to hear her.
Then a heated kiss would break through the last of her walls, leaving her defenseless against the onslaught of pleasure that crashed down on her like a flood. Her hips bucked like a wild animal and her fingers dug into the rich soil under her as she wailed his victory over her, louder even than her cry of penetration had been.
When she was capable of thought, more than a few minutes later, she would try not to think about that.
***
After another nap taken in the aftermath of her midday sugar rush, Harley awoke with a hunger for more than SweetTarts. Calling the pizza number next to the phone, she delighted in discovering that the local pizzeria delivered pizza, cinnamon sticks, breadsticks, crazybread, chicken wings, chicken poppers, soda, and very big cookies. If only the pizza place delivered high explosives, she’d never shop anywhere else.
Harley ordered one of each, and a veggie pizza in case Bruce and Ivy wanted some. Veggies. Yick.
***
Ivy stretched happily and reclined under Bruce. When she felt his cock brush against her leg, she took it as a comforting promise. “What are you waiting for, hubby? You haven’t come yet.”
"You said just once."
"Did I? You must’ve misheard me.”
***
Harley remembered a dark time in her life, when she’d had to watch her weight. Then Ivy gave her a shot that let them play together. There were some minor side effects, like superstrength and enhanced agility, but mostly, Harley could eat as much as she wanted and stay flat as a pancake.
“Guys, pizza’s here!” she announced after having three of everything. No answer, even to that. She decided to go look for them. They were probably wondering where she’d gotten to anyway.
***
Ivy lay under Bruce, burning and ice-cold and everything in-between. She gasped when she could breathe at all. She knew she’d had an orgasm recently—she could still feel fresh come on her inner thighs—but had no idea how long it’d taken her to recover from it.
Had it been dark out when they started?
“That was alright,” she stressed, reaching a hand up to caress his chiseled face—he hasn’t even broken a sweat. “But next time… harder and faster, okay? And rough. Very rough.”
“I could hurt you.”
“Oh, do try.”
***
Skipping through the halls of the mansion, it occurred to Harley that the reason Bruce didn’t want pizza might be the only reason someone wouldn’t want pizza. She broke into a run. Hopefully Ivy wasn’t killing him without her!
***
Facedown on the grass, surrounded by the claw marks where she’d gouged at the earth in her ecstasy, Ivy looked over her shoulder and saw Bruce regarding her with smug concern. Screw it. He had the right to feel smug after that.
“That all you got?” she asked hoarsely.
“I was just wondering if you wanted to break for lunch. I could bring you some refreshments if you’d like to rest a moment.”
“Fuck that. Get down here and do your husbandly duties. And don’t stop this time.” She licked her lips. “Not until I scream.”
***
As Harley had expected, being a smarty-pants, they were in the greenhouse. Harley could hear Ivy yelling, even if the actual words were muted by the glass walls. She hoped Bruce hadn’t forgotten to water one of Ivy’s plants. That always made Ivy yell at her.
Harley opened the door to the greenhouse and stepped inside. Pushing aside a few palm leaves, she stopped dead. Struck deaf and dumb by what she saw.
Ivy laid flat on the grass like a throw rug, spread-eagled, her hands gripping tree trunks on either side and her legs shooting straight up like a Rockette routine. Bruce laid atop her, naked, pumping himself up and down like it was exercise. He buffeted Ivy’s voluptrous body with unrestrained violence, each time sending ripples through Ivy’s generous curves. Her ass rippled, her breasts bounded, even her hair flew as her head shook in ecstasy. Her lips joined the act too, bursting out “Yes!” and “Fuck!” at every penetration. And Harley could see why.
Almost a foot of Bruce’s moisture-coated shaft dropped into Ivy with each thrust, though the thick base remained untouched no matter how wide Ivy’s legs spread. She was getting the cock—long, thick, and decidedly hard—that Harley had been denied the other night. And Bruce was kissing the moist lips that Harley thought were all hers, his hands sliding over Ivy’s writhing body like he owned it.
Harley felt a shock of betrayal, an urge to run to her room and cry into her pillow—if only she could talk to Mistah J. He’d understand.
She couldn’t stay. If she stayed, she would only be hurt more by what she saw. She kept watching, though. She had to see how far the betrayal went. Would he fuck Ivy’s tits? Her mouth? Her asshole? Harley had to know…
***
Far away and understandably unnoticed, the house phone rang and rang. Finally, the answering machine got it with a cheery recording Harley Quinn had already programmed into it. After the self-made radio jingle was over, beep!
“Hello, Mr. Wayne? Vicki Vale, Channel 5 News. Sorry to bother you at home, but as a fellow One Percent Fertile, I’d love to know your thoughts on the ongoing infertility crisis. My viewers are dying to know if you intend to marry more women, and if so, who? Perhaps I could interview you over dinner…?”
***
Harley felt a little itchy and a little squirmy and a lot hot, unable to stop thinking of how Bruce had disciplined her even as he did the opposite to Ivy. Ivy liked to talk about how she hated men, but she was enjoying every moment of this, bouncing underneath Bruce to meet his cock like she was on a trampoline.
Harley watched her hug Bruce with her legs, crushing him to her in a desperate attempt to intensify her own orgasm. Harley had to be impressed by how Bruce had made Ivy come even harder than Harley could with her joy buzzer and special plant. And not that Mistah J was a bad lover, but Bruce didn’t need a rubber chicken.
He let Ivy lay back on the grass like she was going to make snow angels, the sunlamps revitalizing her sweat-soaked skin. Harley distinctly went eep! when she saw him exit her. He looked even bigger than he had the other night!
As Harley watched, Bruce stroked himself, gathering their comingled fluids in his hand and feeding it to Ivy. She eagerly sat up to suck the juices from his fingers and lick his palm, then collapsed back to the ground and opened her legs in obvious invitation. Bruce had expected nothing less. He was already guiding his cock back to her womanhood. Harley gasped in unison with Ivy as it went in. She could already see the beginnings of Ivy’s next orgasm in the heaving breath she took.
Harley knew Mistah J was the love of her life and Ivy was her BFF. Still, she had to ask… could Bruce make her come like that?
***
Beep! “Hey Bruce, it’s Selina. About our little chat the other night—I’ve been having second thoughts. After all, if you were my husband, you couldn’t testify against me in court. If you want to talk about it, be at the Gotham Natural History Museum after hours. We can discuss that, and whether I should steal the Cat’s Eye Emerald or not. I’m in the pro column myself.”
***
Harley had always been an impulsive sort of girl. Without much in the way of conscious thought, she dropped her boxers to her ankles. Ivy had her ankles locked together at the small of Bruce’s back and was pumping Bruce deeper into her, clearly about to come. All Harley could think about was doing the same. She couldn’t stand Ivy finishing while she went without release.
And she wouldn’t. Bruce stopped, plunged to the hilt inside Ivy, who went mad with lust at the cessation. She threw herself up against the billionaire, kissing him frantically all over his face, her green lipstick covering him like camouflage. Bruce acted as if she weren’t there, staring directly at Harley, whose eyes were open very wide.
“Uh… hi there,” Harley quailed nervously. “We have pizza.”
“DON’T STOP! DON’T STOP! YOU BASTARD, HOW CAN YOU STOP?” Ivy was screaming, desperately rubbing herself up against Bruce to try to cajole him into continuing.
“I don’t recall saying you could touch yourself,” Bruce said calmly, as he idly kneaded one of Ivy’s plump tits. It did little to sooth her, judging by the way she grabbed his hand and forced it to her mouth, where she sucked pornographically on three of his fingers.
“I, ah, I… uhh… we have pizza?” Harley muttered. She crossed her slender arms over her chest, then dropped them down to try to pull the bottom of her shirt over her incriminatingly wet pussy.
“I’LL KILL YOU! I’LL KILL YOU IF YOU DON’T MAKE ME COME, YOU SON OF A BITCH! YOU’RE A DEAD MAN!”
Quite casually, Bruce put his hand over Ivy’s mouth. “Harley, I want you to sit down with your hands behind your back for an hour, saying nothing. If you do that, then I’ll allow you to touch yourself.”
Harley felt her juices trickling down past the ability of her shirt to cover. “Okey-dokey…” she nodded, shifting her weight with more than a little unease. She knelt down, biting her lip.
Bruce turned his attention back to Ivy. Taking his hand away, he drew himself out of her. Ivy shook her head in mute panic, opening her mouth to scream again when Bruce dove back into her. She went deathly still and all that came from her wide-open mouth was a gentle groan.
As Ivy came, Harley realized she didn’t need to touch herself. She had climaxed without even one finger in her cunt.
And Wayne wasn’t even finished.
***
Beep! “Mmm, Roxy Rocket here. Heard you liked to live on the edge, Wayne, but two psychos at once? That's just fun. Maybe you could let me get in on the action. A three-on-one fight is just my kinda odds. Don't bother calling, I'll be dropping by soon enough. And don't bother turning your security system off, either. I love a challenge. Let's see if I can crash that big, busy bed of yours, lover-boy. And don’t worry, I like it rough.”
***
“Oww!” Ivy cried at her most undignified, feeling the tender flesh of her sex stretching painfully. For a while now Bruce’s thrusting had caused pain and pleasure in equal measure, like the thorns on a rose, but now, as she raced toward orgasm, it became unbearable. “Stop! It’s too big! It hurts!”
She flailed and Bruce grabbed her by the shoulders, holding her still as he gently withdrew from her, trying not to cause any more pain. Her crotch was flushed red, and Bruce’s air of confidence was replaced with concern. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?”
“Yes—yes,” Ivy grimaced. “It’s never lasted this long before. You—you fucked me raw.”
Of course, that brought a half-smile to the playboy’s stupid face. He leaned down to her ear. “Then where else can I put it?”
Ivy took his meaning instantly. Even Harley did. Ivy looked over to her friend and saw that the Cupid of Crime was quaking and making mouth-shut ‘ooh! ooh!’ noises like a kid in class who the teacher wouldn’t call on. Catching Ivy’s eye, she nodded her head ardently.
Her cunt still aching, sending jolts of pain through her body, Ivy rolled over and got on her elbows and knees. Her ass was presented for Bruce’s inspection, and she felt him do just that, eying it aesthetically while she laid with it up in the air, like a common whore.
It made Ivy feel dirty. A good sort of dirty.
She heard him spit, felt his fingers lubricate her asshole, stretch her out—it felt so good—then his cockhead sliding over her anus, seeking purchase. She groaned… already it felt far bigger than the brief intrusion of his fingers… she’d let Harley finger her ass before, but only when she begged and pleaded and stayed on her best behavior for weeks, and even then it was only Harley’s dainty little fingers, not… that.
But she couldn’t let Wayne win. She had to… get him to… do the thing… whatever it was.
Letting him fuck her in the ass would accomplish that, though, she was sure of it.
He ran his hand over her back, stroking her spine for a few moments as she felt his cock take hold. Then his hand flattened between her shoulder blades, almost like he was holding her facedown in the grass as he mounted her. She gasped as her asshole went taut, pushed to the limit. Then past it.
She had never taken anything so big and it was just the beginning, as Bruce let his body weight take over and drill him down into Ivy. Ivy bit down on the flesh of her forearm as her resistant asshole started to give, the pain intense but the pleasure more so, something deeply taboo tingling in her mind. This wasn’t something humans, animals, were meant to do, and that made it perfect for her.
Ivy groaned as her anus stalled him, but just for a few moments against his unrelenting pressure, then she felt him inside. Bruce let out a satisfied moan, like he’d just taken a long, cold drink after a day in the sun. Ivy clenched at him, her body trying to keep him out more than she was, but her twinges of discomfort were easy to overcome. Steadily, he worked his way inside, stopped when he heard her grunts become more pain than pleasure, waited as she accommodated him, then worked on her with a few short and slow thrusts. Ivy let out a long, pained exhale.
“Easy, easy,” he told her, petting her hair and soft back, brushing some of the leaves away. His strong, assertive voice calmed her. He could feel her relaxing. “It’s mine now. I’ve got it. You’ve given it to me.”
She accepted it, but still whined in drawn-out protest when he shifted his weight to her once more, squeezing into her tight ass. She buckled underneath him, dropping her head into the grass, but he was unstoppable. Her hole fought him every inch of way, but he moaned exaggeratedly to let her know he enjoyed it, and finally, she couldn’t resist anymore. Ivy felt her stretched asshole take all of him, his cock shooting inside her like a piledriver.
She screamed. Later, Harley would tell her she’d been saying “YES!”
***
Beep! “Wayne, this is Calendar Girl. Couldn’t help but notice such an eligible bachelor taking up with two tacky whores named Ivy and Quinn. And then I couldn’t help but wonder, out of all the villainesses this city has to offer, why them? It finally came to me, Wayne. You think they’re prettier than me, don’t you? But all pretty girls know how to do is lay there and look pretty. Ugly girls can use more than looks to please a man. Mark your calendar, loverboy—you’ll see me soon.”
***
“OH NO, NOT AGAIN!” Ivy yelled.
Bruce had had her by the hips and was dragging her anus onto his cock as her breasts swung heavily under her and her ass jiggled with each blow. Her toes were curling, her lips were pursing, her skin was sweating, her eyes were closed and she was about to come from being fucked in the ass. In fact, her arms had just given out and she’d slumped to the grass, her ass only staying in place because Bruce held onto it. It was all part of the best orgasm she’d ever had since the last orgasm she’d had, when suddenly Bruce stopped. Again.
“MAKE ME COME, YOU SON OF A BITCH, I NEED IT, I’M NEARLY THERE! PLEASE! I’M BEGGING YOU!“
Bruce ignored her, though his cock was hard and immense in her well-punished ass. “Harley, it’s been an hour. You can touch yourself now.”
Harley had been sitting down like she was in a trance, squeezing her thighs together in an attempt to match the pleasure Ivy was receiving, but at his word, she dropped both hands between her legs.
The results were instanteous—they hit so fast that Harley had to lie down to avoid going completely unconscious. The greenhouse swam before her eyes until she turned to Ivy and saw Red clear as day. She was coming too.
Bruce had started fucking her again.
***
Beep! “Bruce, are you there? It’s Dick, pick up if you’re there. Pick up, pick up, pick uppppp! You’re not there. Okay, Bruce, look, I broke my leg in one of those ‘skiing accidents’ our family keeps having, so I’m going to come over to your place to rest up. Don’t worry, I’ll be ‘downstairs,’ you won’t even notice I’m there. Sorry to impose, but I just can’t stay at the Clocktower for at least a week. Man, you had the right idea, Bruce. Start out small, marry two women. Even if they’re crazy, there’s just two of them. But Babs didn’t want all her girls to be single while she got hitched. I thought they were all lesbians! I was just supposed to be a beard! Now Zinda’s pinched me so many times I’m gonna have scar tissue on my ass! I just need to go a few days without a threesome, that’s all. Don’t tell Barbara where I am, she has nurse outfits… where are you, anyway? I’ve been trying to reach you for hours…”
***
Harley’s arms were covered with gooseflesh and it felt like her legs couldn’t hold her weight, even though she was sitting down. She was watching Bruce punch his cock into Ivy’s ass, enjoying the strained noises they both made. Ivy was grunting and moaning with every one of the short, powerful thrusts Bruce made into her ass. The restrained, impetuous goddess Harley had long-known was gone. This woman was like Harley. She enjoyed being fucked.
Harley was circling her clit with her fingers—it was hard to pin down, slippery as it was, but she enjoyed the chase, the electric tingles as her fingers slid around it. She watched as Ivy did the same: meeting her eyes, Ivy reached down between her own legs. Red loosed a ragged gasp as she made contact; echoed by Harley as the blonde found her clit. Bruce was speeding up too, feeling all of their sensations combining and overlapping. Harley watching Ivy, Ivy watching Harley, him watching both of them. He went hard and fast into Ivy, leaning down close to the tangled nest their lovemaking had made of her hair.
“I’m gonna come,” he whispered into her ear, and her hand quickened on her cunt and clit.
Harley sped up too, fingers dancing inside her.
Ivy’s body was clamping down on Bruce, now seeming to want to keep him inside forever. There was no pain, just the feeling of the full measure of his cock, all the way inside up. She was actually compelled to push back, feel even more of him inside her.
Harley came first, so eager to please that she picked up on the urges of the other two and gave vent to them. Her head fell back, mouth open, drooling, legs spread to display her pussy to the world as it quivered in orgasm.
Then Ivy. She screamed so loud her voice went hoarse, her hips driving back against Bruce so violently that she actually moved him several inches. Then she came with thundering finality, her nectar so plentiful that Harley could see it coat her fingers anew every time she stroked herself.
Finally, Bruce buried himself in Ivy’s ass, his cock virtually disappearing inside her to loosen an ejaculation that a dam couldn’t stop. As soon as it hit Ivy, she was in its grip. She felt a second orgasm on top of her first, her mind no longer remotely her own, but a puppet being moved by the strings of Bruce Wayne and her own treacherous, well-pleasured body.
Finished, Bruce stood, his exit prompting an avalanche of jism to flow from Ivy’s ravished ass. He looked down at Ivy, dazed and barely conscious, her holes gaping and her weak body still shaking with pleasure. A few meters away, Harley was in much the same state, her hands still clasped between her legs like she was trying to hold in the ecstatic sensation.
As for Bruce, his cock laid limp between his legs. “Now I think I could use that leaf of yours,” he said. “If you’re up for it.”
Ivy rolled over, her heavy-lidded eyes struggling to focus on them. “Why wouldn’t I be?” she demanded, before passing out.
Before he let, Bruce picked up Harley and deposited her limp body beside Ivy. The two women instinctively curled up into each other, Harley first, then Ivy.
***
Naked, Bruce walked to the kitchen. After sublimating his desires for so long, coming out of it meant he was famished. He drank the entire jug of orange juice in the refrigerator, then saw that someone had ordered pizza, even if the leftovers weren’t to his liking.
Vegetables.
It surprised him, but he had to admit he’d taken pleasure in his time with Ivy. He hadn’t been able to let himself enjoy it too much, but there’d been a definite satisfaction there. After so many years of Ivy trying to seduce him, her pheromones toying with his system, her body paraded before him as a constant temptation—it’d felt only right to finally take her. The same way he’d enjoyed Harley.
He’d always thought of this part of the marriage as an obligation, something he’d eventually trust Harley and Ivy to take care of on their own. But now that he was partaking, it occurred to him that this was a definite side benefit. No wonder Dick did it so often. It was wonderful for morale.
Bruce was just reaching for another slice when a hand grabbed it from him. Past the slim wrist, it was defined by a silver bracer.
“Interesting dinner attire,” Diana, princess of the Amazons, said before taking a bite.
They looked each other over without a hint of self-consciousness. Bruce had no wish to hide what he’d been doing, no sense of modesty in either of them to be offended. Diana’s costume had always been one-part the frame around the painting, designed to showcase her beauty as much as defend it. Even if that wasn’t the note Bruce usually tried to strike, he wouldn’t pretend it wasn’t gratifying for the sight of him to be enjoyed by a beautiful woman, just as it had been with his wives.
“If you’re here to object, I believe you’re in the ‘forever hold your peace’ timeframe.”
Diana swallowed her bite. “How could I object? The Amazon way has always been victory through love, not violence.”
“You could be a great help to me then.” Diana took a considering bite, breaking the tension of the proposal. Bruce did not take this as dissuading. “With you as my wife, riding herd on the others, we could focus on real threats. Talia al Ghul. Red Claw. Cheetah. Circe.”
Diana smiled fondly at him. “I know you mean well… but that’s exactly the reason I can’t. The pressure I feel when you make that offer. Millions of women look up to me as a role model, and I have to show them that even if they’re in the One Percent Fertile, it’s alright for them not to take a husband. Not if it’s something that isn’t right for them.”
Bruce cleared his voice of rancor. “I was under the impression I could be right for you.”
She touched his cheek. “Bruce… you asked me to marry you so we could be parole officers together.”
Her hand stayed at his face. “Funny. I was just thinking of how I’d changed. Harley, Ivy… they’re exceptional women. Any man would be lucky to have them, provided they don’t kill him. Maybe… I think you know more about being a good husband than me.”
Diana pursed her lips. The Amazons did not take wives, but there were some who had found their way into her bed time and time again. She treasured them all. “I don’t know Quinzel and Isley as well as I’d like. But underneath all the wars you’ve waged with them, they’re still people. You can bribe them with your riches and rule them with your psychology. But eventually, they will need love.”
“That’s never come easy to me.”
She leaned in to kiss his cheek. It felt oddly like a promise. “Let it come and it will. Underneath your wars, you’re human too.”
When he looked at her, she was more beautiful than ever. “Those women who look up to you… do you also intend to show them that a woman can change her mind?”
“My mind is made up. I won’t marry the Batman. But if Bruce Wayne asked…” She left the rest unspoken. “Now, I’d never suggest you don’t have a situation under control, but is there anything I can do to help?” Her eyes darted to his ring finger. “Besides that?”
“I’ve never had a head for gift-giving, but could you pick up something appropriately extravagant for Master Patel, my yoga instructor from some years ago? Bill it to me, of course. If he asks, tell him it’s in gratitude to him for teaching me the Kantic Trance. It came in very helpful just recently.”
“Oh? You needed to meditate under any waterfalls?”
There had been a good deal of moisture involved. “Something like that.”
Diana bowed formally. “I’ll see to it. Thank you for allowing me to dine in your house, and my apologies for intruding without permission. I was merely concerned for your safety.”
“No apology is needed, princess. You’re always welcome here.”
“And it’s always a pleasure. Tell Harley that she may not have trained with real Amazons, but I would be glad to consider her a sister, if she wishes to go down that path. And let Ivy know that she may consider herself a god, but I’ve fought deities before. When my friends were threatened.”
With a tight nod, Diana took flight. The skylight was open in the open room.
Bruce watched her go and thought about her words.
***
That night, Ivy woke up to find Harley wasn’t lying at her side.
She was in Bruce’s bedroom, traipsing with all her stealth through his door. She’d left her boxers back in the greenhouse—a fact that, unbeknownst to her, was causing Ivy a great deal of consternation—and her shirt billowed loosely about her body as she tip-toed toward the bed.
In it, the sheets parted to reveal Bruce. He sat up, naked body still gleaming faintly from the shower he’d taken before bed, and regarded Harley as she froze solid.
“Can I help you with something?” he asked with a smile.
Harley put her hands behind her back. She smiled at him, endearingly nervous.
“Brucie, how is it I could get to have earned your cock?”
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Marry The Knight