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The Tower update
🕑 Added 2019-01-08 17:22:40 +0000 UTC
“Diana, are you busy?” Superman asked, as if invisibility were one of his powers. She hadn’t noticed him anywhere near her. “I was just headed to get a drink, but I could use some company more.”
Diana snapped out of her reminiscences of Bruce and the opportunity Shayera had thwarted to come to terms with her own rebellious urges. “I’m not in the mood, Kal,” she said briskly. She started to walk away, her firm thighs breaking the pristine symmetry of her pteruges, collecting their stray strands between her legs and along the valley of her protruding buttocks.
She may have been too short with him, for Clark retorted hotly, “Would you rather be in Batman’s company? Is his friendship with Power Girl what’s spoiling your mood?”
Diana was furious as she responded, giving away the accuracy of his statement. “I’m not thinking about them.”
Superman stalked away himself, his cape sweeping behind him. “Maybe you should. Power Girl’s not a very gentle lover. By the end, there may not be much of Batman left for the two of you to fight over.”
Diana was just shy of roaring as she spun to find that Superman had departed in a sudden burst of flight. She was left alone with her thoughts. And despite what she’d said, they were of Power Girl and Batman.
Superman was right. In her passion, Karen could be quite dangerous, even to Batman. Yet it was not concern Diana felt, but anger and jealousy, even more than Clark had provoked with his callous words.
“Damn man!” she said aloud, not sure if she was referring to Bruce or Clark. Privately, and to her own great annoyance, she beseeched some of her pantheon to see to it Bruce was not harmed…
***
Karen lay in her bed, almost perfectly motionless, her sexual fulfillment such that motion could only bring throbbing tenderness, even pain. Her cleavage stirred with her gentle intake of breath; otherwise, not even her shortly cut hair moved.
Slowly, consciousness returned to her. Deeper breaths made her breasts heave to their fullest prominence, showcasing their full size and surprisingly pert buoyance in a display that any man would’ve given body parts to see. Her thick thighs and muscular arms twitched as if gesticulating, flexing the corded tendons and firm muscles just beneath the creamy skin. Finally, her stunning blue eyes appeared in a beguiling flicker of her eyelids. She stretched in wakefulness, veins resolving upon the engorged biceps and quadriceps of her potent body.
Almost immediately, memories of intense, wildly passionate sex flooded into her mind, separating her from the warmly intimate dreams she had been enjoying, like visions following the drug of allowing Batman to ravish her body. Her recollections were almost divorced from context, jerking her from sensation to sensation—how Bruce had mounted her, mouthed her most tender places, penetrated her to the utmost.
Those waking dreams fell upon her one after another, like little movies being shown all jumbled out of sequence, their only common thread how she had so ardently enjoyed each and every one. Even now, her sex ached from how violently it had received Bruce’s cock, though each momentary bout of soreness quickly resolved itself into a feeling of satiation. Karen could not deny that she had enjoyed every moment of being ravaged, to the point of doing some ravaging herself, and a smile graced her butch face, turning it into a vision of beauty. Even had she not been naked, and quite evidently aroused, any man would’ve loved to wake up to find himself sharing a bed with a woman who wore such a lustfully promising smile.
But Bruce was nowhere to be seen.
Remembering now too how truly wild her passion had become—to the point of seeming excessive even in her lovingly aroused memories—Karen now worried that their rough sex had been a little too rough. For once not caring about her naked flesh, not even to flaunt it, Karen slid out of bed and scrambled through the apartment, looking for Bruce.
She was surprised to find herself thinking that she would not forgive herself if she had inadvertently harmed him. He wouldn’t be the first lover who had found her too much to handle, but if he was better able to take care of himself than most, he had also pushed her to a point no other man ever had. She could not be so glib as to declare that he should’ve known what he was getting into, or that his injuries were worth the experience he’d enjoyed. Instead she worried that she had ended something beautiful before it had even begun.
Bruce was not in the apartment; Karen satisfied herself that if he was well enough to leave, he could not be injured too badly. She remembered her nudity and was almost ashamed of the link to last night and its unbecoming implications. Going to dress herself, Karen actually wondered whether Bruce was the simple human he presented himself as. It would be perfectly in keeping with his secretive nature to be a metahuman and keep it to himself for his own paranoid reasons. It would also explain how he had made her enjoy their night together so much. No mortal man could’ve achieved that. No mortal period could make her come that hard.
Now dressed, Karen felt another maddening wave of remorse. In addition to all the other unfortunate ways that ecstatic night was now unraveling into recriminations, she recalled telling Bruce she didn’t want a romantic relationship, only to be fucked. She regretted that. If anyone on this mudball was worth falling in love with, it was him. After all, she had already fallen in love with what he’d done to her body.
***
Bruce stepped out of the Batplane. The flight had been comfortable, with him barely having to move as the autopilot flew for him, but now, disembarking, he was vividly reminded of the soreness of his body. It was not even the well-earned pain accrued in battle, but a throbbing ache, bone-deep, that went hand in hand with recollections of his night with Karen, recollections that even now were arousing. He was half-hard despite, or maybe because of, the pain as he carefully pried himself out of the cockpit and worked his way down the ladder.
It was only then, as the mobile computer built into his cowl synced with that of the Batcomputer, that a private alarm went off in his HUD. Bringing up the cave’s security systems as he picked his way to the Batcomputer, Bruce could see that several of them had been tampered with. Only a few remained functioning—redundancies upon redundancies—and as Bruce sat down heavily in his chair, he reminded the Batcomputer of their existence and called up the footage. He recognized members of the League of Assassins—Ra’s al Ghul’s men. In the video, they were tampering with the Batcomputer.
Despite the pain, Bruce’s hands flew over the console, seeming to do five things at once. He ran a diagnostic. He called up the computer’s logs. He opened a line to the Watchtower. It was obvious that Ra’s had wanted something from his system. And there was not yet any telling what Ra’s had gotten or how dangerous his current plan was.
Diana’s face filled the viewscreen: her full, sensual lips—her proudly etched eyebrows arched over clear gray eyes—the strong Greek nose—even the simple golden helm and crimson earrings that accentuated her features—all forming a vision of loveliness belying the intense physicality he knew she possessed. It could’ve been the face of a model or actress with an infinitely slender build, yet was so much more lovely when paired with her muscular physique.
And at the moment, her expression was stricken with concern, a beautiful pout that made even someone of Batman’s stoic nature wish to reach out and comfort her. “Bruce! Are you alright?”
“Fine,” Bruce said, trying harder than ever not to let his pain show.
Now Diana showed a jealous mien, eying him suspiciously and too incensed to bother hiding it. “Where were you all night?”
Bruce ignored the question. Diana’s petty envy was beneath both him and her. He wouldn’t acknowledge it and she would appreciate his discretion. “We need an emergency meeting of the Justice League. Convene all members. I’ll be there within the hour.” That would be enough time to tape his ribs.
He ended the communication rather than give Diana another chance to be indelicate. She could thank him later.
On the other end of the line, Diana was not appreciating his sagaciousness. She had been openly concerned for his welfare and he had completely ignored that. Again, she wondered what Bruce even wanted: For her to admit to some feeling for him or for none to exist in the first place.
***
As Superman approached Diana, he allowed himself to savor her beauty. Her powerful buttocks swelled out from her hips, almost completely pushing aside the pteruges of her skirt. Her bulging thighs finished the job, shoving the flaps of her skirt out of the way to the point of being completely uncovered. Her thick arms and broad shoulders seemed to tear their way out of her strapless bodice, which remained so tight as to show off the full contours of her large breasts and the sculpted abs of her midsection. Her face possessed a similarly square jaw and severe cheekbones, but nonetheless her features were decidedly delicate, without a trace of masculinity in them. Her glossy hair softened and made ethereal her beautiful face, rendering feminine all the toughness and strength in her tall, statuesque frame.
The other Leaguers were gathered around the meeting room, too disturbed by Batman’s sounding of the alarm to relax and grow comfortable, as they usually would in the Watchtower’s collegiate atmosphere. The idea that Batman was in a panic had them all on edge.
Then he looked at Batman, seated at the round table. Not out of nonchalance, even if that were the impression Bruce wished to give, but simply to rest his weight. Even to an idle observer, it was evident that Bruce was holding himself very carefully. X-ray vision revealed no serious injuries, but painful cracks in his ribs and pelvic bone.
“You should go to the infirmary, Batman,” Clark said. “Get yourself checked out. If you haven’t got your pelvis, you haven’t got anything.” Saying this last part, he glanced at Diana, who furiously met his gaze. But it wasn’t long before she looked back to Batman, jealousy and concern warring over her lovely face.
Batman ignored all of it. “Ra’s al Ghul’s men broke into the Batcave and accessed my computer. We’ll need to change the Watchtower’s security codes immediately.”
Superman nodded to the Flash, who hurried off to do it. “Good precaution,” he said. “But is that all? A security breach of your notes on Killer Croc hardly seems worth an emergency meeting.”
Unusually, Batman said nothing, pausing as if at a loss for words. Staring at him, Superman raised his voice slightly to repeat his question, making the query far more serious. “Is there anything you’d like to add, Bruce?”
Another pause, spiteful this time, as Bruce looked at him, willfully making Clark wait before giving the curious onlookers of the Justice League something to chew on. “Yes. I’ll need Diana’s help on this one.”
Diana looked surprised for a moment, as did they all, but then she gave an enthusiastic nod. “Happy to help,” she said, before forcing herself to react more coolly. “If you think it’s necessary.”
“It is,” Bruce said with his own curt nod.
“Then it’s settled,” Clark said. “Diana, go with Bruce. Try to keep him from racking up any more injuries.”
There was a round of tension-breaking laughter around the table, but to Bruce it didn’t sound so relieving. He hadn’t lied—he needed Diana and the Lasso of Hestia, but more than that, he needed to deflect the doubts of his colleagues, which had sprung up all too easily when he showed weakness. Let them believe he had only been reluctant to ask for help from a metahuman. He couldn’t let on the truth about why he needed answers so quickly.
Comments
Shendude
Plot? Oooh, this is gonna be good.
