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“Air support,” Batman choked out, terse enough to be neither order nor request. He followed up with, “wings damaged,” adding to the urgency of the request.

Rampage had managed to get her hands on him as he distracted her from a downed Hawkgirl—circling her, throwing Batarangs in what Tim would call a circle-strafe. Only he wasn’t quite the marksman Green Arrow was. Rampage had ducked, some of his shots had gone wide, and without the distraction of the attacks, she’d been able to get a hold of him. He’d been quick to counter with tear gas sprayed from his utility belt, and as he’d hoped, the she-monster didn’t possess the wherewithal to finish the job before giving into her instinctual desire to get rid of this irritant.

She’d hurled him away, but unfortunately for him, there was a difference between being thrown by someone like Clayface or Bane, and someone who could go toe to toe with Superman. He’d been flying headlong for the wall of the colonial fort that had gone from tourist attraction to battlefield the moment Rampage landed—knocked out of Colonel Blimp’s namesake by a careless blast from Guy Gardner. Batman had personally led the strike force from the main team to finish her off. Let Superman end the threat; this counted as collateral damage, and that made it his fight.

The bricks and mortar, though, would make nothing at all his. Spinning like a cat in mid-air, Batman managed to crash his gauntlet down on the wall’s parapet, propelling him up and over the fortification like a cheating pole-vaulter. It was only as he cleared the wall—so close that his leathery cape beat against the topmost bricks—that he saw the sea far below. The cliff and beach this Spanish fort had been meant to defend. And he was plummeting all the way down the high ground that the Spaniards had used to shore up their defenses.

History was a bitch.

Then Bruce felt rope—so finely woven that he could feel its softness through his armor, a gentleness to its compression against his skin. It wrapped around him, cording in an expert knot that trapped his arms to his sides. Elsewhere, the lasso went slack, protracting his catch and elongating his fall, turning it into something like a bungee jump. He turned his head as best he could and saw Diana.

She’d thrown herself after him, snagged him with her lasso, and was now digging her heels into the cliff face, to slow their combined descent without wrenching his spine from his body. Bruce tried to go limp. He could see the sands at the base of this rocky terrain coming up to meet him, feel the wind rushing by him at dizzying speed, hear his blood pounding inside his skull and cowl as if it wanted to escape in a shattering of bone…

But if anyone could ask the laws of physics for a favor, it was Diana. He slowed down enough to get his own boots under him, grinding their heels into the sloping rock as both he and Diana came to a stop. Wonder Woman did it with altogether more style, skidding the rest of the way down the slope to stop only at his side. She grinned at him as she returned the excess length of lasso to its coil, the end still tight around him.

“Nice work on Rampage,” Diana said. “Almost killing you was just enough distraction for Hawkgirl to get her upside the head. She’ll probably be in Belle Reve by the time we’re back at the top.”

Bruce said nothing. He knew how the lasso worked. Even simple statements became chemical reactions, exploding into full, detailed unpackings of every nuance, every shade of grey. He preferred his brevity.

Diana let out a brisk laugh and drew the lasso off him as easily as she’d unlock something with a key. “You never miss a trick, do you?”

“If you want to know, you can ask,” Batman reasoned.

“And you’d answer?”

He pulled her to him, a quick kiss, bold and passionate. Diana responded, receptive but controlled, grace paramount. She rested her hand on his broad chest, squeezing to let him feel her power, then its presence solidifying when they broke away. In one sense, keeping him at bay, but the prolonged contact an intimacy of its own, different from the kiss and equally exciting.

“We should celebrate,” Diana said, as if she were agreeing to something. “And unless you’re dead-set on brooding or punishing evil, I think the one who saved the other’s life should get to pick how.”

“Careful, princess. One day I’ll save your life.” The suggestive gleam in Bruce’s eyes coiled into fine-honed sarcasm. “Then it’s all the brooding and punishing evil you can stand.”

“For now, though, we should show Shayera a good time as well. She did actually defeat the enemy while you were sky-diving.”

“How good a time do you want to show her?”

“That depends on how good a time she’s willing to have.”

***

“I’m not drunk enough for this conversation,” Shayera said, aiming to remedy that with her martini.

Bruce had a club soda in front of him. “I can’t get drunk enough for this conversation.”

Diana slapped both their shoulders in turn. “Excuse me for continuing the fine Greek tradition of the philosopher.”

It was hours after the mission, and Bruce had been persuaded that the best way to thank Diana for saving his life was to accompany her to a nightclub. He wore a casual summer suit, the white linen casting aspirations towards not being Batman, while Diana wore a red skater dress, plain and simple, its casualness making her beauty shine brighter, like the unadorned setting for a jewel.

Shayera, who’d tagged along by pointing out the number of times she’d saved Batman’s life and never gotten a free date with Bruce Wayne, was dressed in an opposite, but no less alluring, direction. Her pink dress was low-cut, with a high slit, its impressive décolletage and showcase of Shayera’s long, tan legs dispelling any girlishness from the traditional association. She was a woman, and all the more womanly for putting her femininity on display in such an unabashed way.

Diana reached for her drink on the table of the VIP booth they were in, but only caressed it, turning it a quarter to the left. “Here we have Shayera, who has reincarnated into countless lives. Myself, immortal. And Bruce, you have a single life to lead.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Shayera teased him.

“And I wonder which of us sees the fullest spectrum of the human experience?”

“You,” Shayera said. “You’re immortal, you win by volume.”

“And you reincarnate,” Diana countered. “Your circumstances vary with every life. I’ll always be trapped by my outlook from Paradise Island. And neither of us will ever know the afterlife as Bruce here will. His being mortal, knowing he’ll one day be gone, gives him an insight that we’ll never receive.”

“It’s mostly inconvenient,” Bruce retorted. “Limits my timeframe.”

“So your experiences are limited by your outlook,” Shayera said, speaking to Diana. “Alright… what if his are limited by mortality?”

“I can forget about my mortality,” Bruce said. “Once you awaken to your past lives, your circumstances pale in comparison to your larger existence. You’re Shayera, not… whatever this body used to be.”

“I’m both,” Shayera corrected him.

“But we call you Shayera. And how varied can your experiences be if you always become the Hawkgirl?”

“I do other things.” Shayera sucked her drink through a straw. “I’ve never met you before. Or Diana.”

“Perhaps she and I will meet again, but the three of us, here, tonight…” Diana shook her head. “That’s something that may never come again in this universe.”

“For a beautiful princess that’s eternally young, you can be pretty depressing,” Bruce said.

“Then maybe let’s have one of those varied experiences. Let’s dance.” Diana took Shayera’s hand. “All our lives and we’ve never danced together, have we?”

“No. We haven’t.” Shayera extended her other hand to Bruce.

He begrudgingly took it. “So long as we’re done with this conversation…”

They danced for a long time. Bruce was like the bedrock, stolid, masculine but receptive, keeping up with the two women. Diana’s style was strong, passionate, her body glancing off Bruce’s, darting past Shayera’s, winding herself around both of them like a snake. And Shayera almost let herself be captured, dancing the most flagrantly of them all, her hands rubbing over Bruce’s chest, Diana’s back, inviting their caresses along her bare arms, bare legs.

Bruce replied: dipping her, waltzing her, barely leaving room for Diana to have her say, but the princess could not be denied. She awaited her opportunities, orbited them, allowed Shayera her fun, then reminded them both who was a goddess with a sly touch, a forward smile, a lavishing of her eyes on their sweat-glazed bodies. Shayera found herself dancing with the princess almost as much as the bachelor. At its best, she was Bruce’s falcon, hunting down his prey and returning her to him, and together they caged Diana between them, feeling her bump and grind against both their bodies.

Hours seemed to pass, but Shayera didn’t grow tired, or uncomfortable. There was some energy in the three of them that was greater than the sum of its parts. Her breasts brushed against Diana’s, pressed into Bruce’s back. Her lips traveled Bruce’s jawline, met Diana’s mouth. Her tongue tasted the sweat among the gritty shadow of Bruce’s shaven face, the languid softness of Diana’s perfect flesh. She felt like she was being overwhelmed by them; she knew they were consuming her. No one had to said anything when they left the dance floor, heading back to the hotel. It was something they all felt.

The hotel was cheap and quiet, classy and peaceful, one of Diana’s suggestions. It inexplicably asked no questions and roused no suspicions, and when one of the world’s wealthiest man danced through the lobby with two gorgeous women alongside him, one a Greek goddess, the place was too deserted to care. Inside Bruce’s room, a solitary fan spun, the open windows let in cool, perfumed air, and the sounds of the nightly festival they had just left filtered into a musical haze.

Bruce reclined into the sofa almost as much as Diana pushed him, coming down on the neighboring cushion with her knees bent beneath her. She had his fly undone before he could. She gripped him, he spread his legs wide. His cock inched upward in Diana’s hand, getting bigger and bigger with her sure, steady ministrations.

Diana looked at Shayera, who despite her arousal was shocked at how abrupt, how matter-of-fact the seduction… The détente? The alliance?... had been. “Care to join us?

“God!” Shayera gasped, but as if drawn by a magnet, she knelt down on the cushion on Bruce’s other side and helped Diana make his prick huge and stiff. Bruce took her with hands in her auburn hair and kissed her; he had barely relinquished her mouth when Diana was there, kissing him still harder. Then Shayera reclaimed the kiss, taking it from Diana, Diana’s almost submissive openness intoxicating to the warrior.

Lips clinging to Shayera’s, Diana retreated, a beckoning glance leading downward. “Suck it with me,” she cooed.

“Diana!”

“Let me show you how…”

Shayera’s eyes danced hotly all over Bruce’s giant cock, watching it throb in Diana’s fist. His cockhead was wet, slimy, thrumming with the cum waiting to emerge from it. She licked her lips nervously.

Diana led the way, as eager as she would be if this were her first time with Bruce—as if showing off for Shayera. She got down on her elbows, caressing Bruce’s monstrous prick with her lips, giving it little lapping licks when she approved of its taste, its hardness.

Shayera made a soft noise, deep in her throat, and the next thing she knew, she was going down on Bruce with Diana. Licking and sucking and jerking his massive cock. Bruce grinned, putting hands on the backs of their necks, petting their luscious hair.

Shayera and Diana were growing close over his hard-on. They kissed several times, as if there were nothing in the world but the two of them, then lavished affection on Bruce’s cock when the intensity of their feelings grew too immense. Shayera felt the way a woman should, sharing with Diana, caring for her, and she wanted to please her as much as Bruce.

“Let your teeth skim it,” Bruce said, shockingly gentle as he played her auburn hair up from her scalp and let it trickle back down to her neck. “Catch my cock around the head and pull on it.”

Shayera closed her hungry mouth around his prick and started pulling her head back, letting her teeth drag against his shaft until she reached his tip. She not only heard his groans of pleasure, she felt them. Then her teeth nipped into his collar. He grabbed both sides of her head and crammed more of his member into her mouth, her throat.

“Suck it good,” Bruce hissed. “You know how…”

Diana nodded as he said it. She moved around the conjoined two, settling behind Shayera—Shayera moving her arms obligingly as Diana unzipped her dress and tugged it away, then lying flat on top of her. Shayera could feel Diana’s tits against her back.

“What are you doing?” Shayera asked, out of breath from the sucking.

“Diana’s going to fuck your ass,” Bruce explained.

Shayera didn’t understand until she felt Diana rubbing her pussy against her ass. She sucked Bruce’s cock and Diana rutted against her. Almost immediately Shayera could feel the ripples of pleasure going through Diana’s body—her hands sliding underneath her to caress her tits.

“I’m riding your ass,” Diana groaned, her lovely voice husky, lustful, dirty. It turned Shayera on even more than the feel of Diana’s bare body against hers. “I’m riding your fucking ass! Oh, you beauty! You perfect girl! Oh, Aphrodite!”

It didn’t seem possible, but Shayera could feel the hot juices of Diana’s pleasure in the crack of her ass. Diana had come. Diana had squirted. At the same time, Bruce felt Shayera’s throat seem to melt around him. His balls were ready and he bucked into her throat, spurting his seed in a towering geyser.

“Mmmmmm!” Shayera cried, eyes wide, as she felt his cum gush into her stomach. She pulled free of his blowing cock, Bruce’s cum cascading over her chin and cleavage as well, making them as wet as her ass—Diana twisted her head around, kissed her, Shayera locked her mouth to Diana’s and forced Bruce’s ejaculation inside.

“Uuuuuh!” Diana moaned as Shayera’s invading tongue wallowed the cum inside her mouth, along the insides of her cheeks and her own vibrant tongue, before sucking as much as she could back into Shayera’s own mouth to be swallowed.

They smiled at each other, teeth stained with Bruce’s enjoyment, and then ducked their heads again to resume their kiss, biding the time until Bruce’s cock was hard and ready.

It would not take long…

***

Bruce succumbed first. The bed became too comfortable, his energy too low, and after Shayera had ridden him to another climax, he had time for one last caress of her body and then unconsciousness took him.

Shayera fell away from him, into Diana’s arms, and the intensity of the three-way coupling seemed to fall away more than Bruce could account for, as if the alchemy of them was more than the sum of its parts.

It still continued, though. Shayera gasped in easy, relaxed pleasure as Diana masturbated her. Slow, rubbing motions that would only become ecstasy in the fullness of time.

“You know he is my lover,” Diana said, her words light kisses on Shayera’s ear as the tip of one finger nudged between Shayera’s labia “I’ve taken him into the tribe of the Amazons. He heeds my loving authority. A slave of eager submission.”

“Hard to picture him taking orders from you,” Shayera breathed, inclining her hips in a slight dip to encourage Diana to give her another finger.

Diana slyly let it rub over Shayera’s entrance. “He too was used to a world where authority was synonymous with mistrust. There came a conflict between us. As a stratagem, he asked for hiketaia--my protection and embrace. After I tested his sincerity with my lasso, I accepted. He too came to see the benefits of my stewardship. But that is another story, and Artemis tells it better than I. Suffice to say that Paradise Island is in need of protectors, of peoples to be protected. I can see no one more worthy than Bruce: of my people or of my heart.”

“Mmmmm… is it wrong that it’s turning me on to hear how into each other you two are?”

“I should think there is little that would not ‘turn you on’ as I have my way with you. But I do find it engaging myself…”

Shayera gasped sweetly as Diana finally entered her. “You want me… to be like him? One of your Amazons? Submitting to you…”

Diana tightened her lips languidly on Shayera’s earlobe. “I know your own people, the Thanagarians, are lost to you. Join us instead. Let me mold you and teach you and learn from you. I want to free your mind… your body…”

Shayera could only moan. “Yes, Diana… yes…”

***

They both slept comparatively late the next morning, only raising with the dawn. Bruce had been at her, on her, in her for most of the night. A lesser woman would’ve felt sore. And Diana did feel sore, but she wore it with pride, like the marks from a hard-won victory. She felt very relaxed, very happy.

Bruce stirred beside her, shoving back the covers. She looked at his naked body as he slowly climbed up out of his sleep. The man had given her passion. And pleasures she could not believe. As always. Adding Shayera to the mix had only made it better, proven there was no jealousy or withholding between them. They had shared her exquisitely. The one night of splendid ménage a trois had given her a deeper love for her man.

“Morning,” Bruce said slowly. His eyes crept open and he slid an arm around Diana’s waist, pulling her close for a kiss. He slid over her to press himself along her full naked length, resting his half-hard manhood upon her mound.

“Oh, Bruce—“ She cuddled to his warm flesh.

“How’s our guest?” he asked her.

Diana glanced over at Shayera, on the far side of the bed. She was still asleep, ill at ease with the rigors of entertaining both the Dark Knight of Gotham and the Princess of Paradise Island. With her splayed limbs, her drooling mouth, and her half-exposed body, she was an object of both inelegance and supple beauty… a Rembrandt painting of a carelessly discarded toy, the light and composition erasing any possible marring that could apply, leaving only breathtaking loveliness. Diana felt Bruce’s member harden as he regarded her in all her girlish sensuality—a far cry from Diana’s grace, and a novel one.

“A good night’s sleep is therapeutic,” Diana replied. “As is a strenuous work-out before bed.”

“Only before?” Bruce asked, a wry raise of his eyebrow showing the roguishness he so carefully displayed when with her. The Batman had been born in a theater showing Zorro, and that light remained in his darkness, a candle that could not be put out. It showed in his puckish appreciation of her body, Shayera’s body, Artemis’s… anyone’s, so long as they were shared with her.

“We wouldn’t want to wake her,” Diana told him certainly. “Not after how much we enjoyed her staying up late with us.”

Bruce conceded the point silently, swinging his feet to the floor and standing up. Bright sunlight streamed into the rooms, the rays gilding Bruce’s flesh, turning his tan to dark bronze and his scars to sheer black.

Diana remembered clearly what he had done to her last night. She’d loved every second of it. “I love you.”

“And I you,” Bruce replied in fluent Greek. He was more comfortable with emotions when he filtered them through her mother tongue, made them something for her alone. He walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

Diana got up, pulling the sheets back over Shayera, and put on a filmy nightgown, knowing Bruce would let her wear it for about ten seconds before he stripped it off her anew. She lightly touched her kiss-swollen lips, the reddened flesh where Bruce had clutched her so tightly, the oversensitive space between her legs where Bruce had taken his full pleasure three times the night before. Plus the two he’d had with Shayera. Five times in one day. Diana was amazed. And very pleased that he could be so openly desirous. Very pleased.

She brushed her hair back and went into the kitchen nook to make some coffee and get breakfast started. Bruce came in later, wearing his pants and nothing else. He let her keep the nightgown on all through breakfast.

“I’ve invited Shayera to join us,” Diana said casually.

“I’m not surprised.”

“You think she’ll make a good Amazon?”

“You would know better.”

“I think all my friends would make good Amazons. I appreciate hearing from one more cynical.”

“I can’t be cynical about her. And I’m sure you noticed how she was last night.”

Diana nodded. “Enthusiastic. Giving. Passionate. All that she needs to compliment her warrior prowess. All she has to do is combine the two—to love what she protects as hard as she protects it.”

“For now, I think she loves us just fine. Is she interested in the hiketaia?”

Diana demurred, “Not yet. Even if she were, I’d think it had more to do with the immensity of what she’s experienced. Let’s give her a time to grow used to our company, mull over what that pledge would really mean. But as we wait, we can sweeten the deal…”

“Mmmm,” Bruce said, willfully ignorant of her innuendo.

He was well into his second cup of coffee before Diana couldn’t take it anymore. She stood up, her eyes bold on Bruce.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“Go ahead,” Bruce replied. “It’s free.”

She took a step around the table, putting the hem of her nightie close to Bruce’s face. “With you, Bruce. We’ll take one together. You wash my back, I’ll wash your cock.”

Bruce blinked. “I thought Shayera did that last night.”

“I’ll get the spots she missed.”

Bruce stared back at her gleaming eyes, reading approval of the game, and he taunted her. “If you’ll going to be vulgar, I might take you over my knee.”

“If you want to feel my ass, all you have to do is get in the shower with me. Better hurry with that coffee…”

She strode out of the kitchen, nonchalantly stripping herself of her nightie as she went. Bruce felt his prick pounding fiercely with blood. How could she be so young and smooth on the outside, and such a sexual, kinky woman on the inside?

What the hell—he wasn’t a philosopher, even if she was. All he knew was that his cock was about to rip the seams of his pants and Diana could take care of that for him. Until Shayera was ready to take care of it.

He went to the bathroom. The last steps were taken almost at a run. Inside, the shower was on full force and Diana was standing in front of it, waiting for the water to run hot.

Clothed, she was beautiful. Naked, she was a work of art, the beautiful angles of her face giving way to the perfect proportions of her body. Firm, high-set breasts. Subtle, powerful muscles that tightened her arms and legs. Long, slender thighs that seemed to taper for miles from her womanly hips and equally lean, powerful torso. Even her pussy, shaven to a delicate wisp of dark pubic hair above the cleft, had the feeling of a flower in bloom. The steam that rose to fill the room from the heating shower water was a needed punctuation on her nudity. It seemed to cry out for some paranormal, extrasensory addition to put it in the proper context. A rainbow, flowers at her feet. The majesty of her body demanded equally wonderful surroundings, which the world was ill-suited to provide.

“Beautiful,” he said, unnecessarily, and they circled each other a moment, regarded each other a moment, before he slipped under the streaming water and pulled her with him.

The flow drenched them, plastering her ebony hair to her head, running down between her impeccably developed breasts, making a small river over the lines of her abs and the angle of her delta. Bruce came closer, closer, touching the wet flesh, holding it, a kiss bringing them together as they touched, embracing, the hotel shower just barely big enough for his musculature and her height.

“You know you’re a dirty girl, Diana. Best to clean you off.”

“Oh, I’ll never get clean. But it’s fun to try…”

Taking the bar of soap from its dish, Bruce began to foam lather over Diana’s cleavage. She moaned, giggled, squealed and sighed as his hands worked wads of thick bubbles from the curve of her neck to the lowest reaches of her groin. Before his circular rubbing at her clit could become truly unbearable, she wrested the soap away and smeared it into his hairy chest herself, then massaged his belly, and finally spread the lather all around his crotch.

Suds dribbled to the tile from his balls, and with his hands coated in foamy white bubbles, he washed her back, whitening her round ass completely, his fingers delving between the cheeks. Together, they smeared more down her thighs, kissing wetly as Diana drew close to cover his back with soap.

Bruce’s cock was thick and erect, swaying against her thighs, the trails it made rasping against her flesh. She clung to him, fingers slipping over his soapy back. The bar of soap dropped. They clung to each other, wiggling in each other’s grasp, her lust whipping at her thighs, rampaging in her head. His muscles tightened and he leaned in, crushing her to his body as he tried to get a tight grip on her slithering wetness.

Suddenly he was in her, prick striking home in her sex. “BRUCE!”

His hands slid to her waist, fingers pressing into the wet flesh, not to be denied. He carefully eased himself into position, then heaved up, lifting her to his broad chest.

“Ohhhhh!” Sudden stabs of brisk happiness electrocuted Diana’s pussy, made her clit thrash with passion, her whole body respond to his heavy drives. “Yess!” Her first climax hit with quick pangs of ecstasy—short, sharp moments of piercing delight—flaring for a moment, then more, bigger intensities.

Bruce kept it up as long as he could, then plunged into a fast, heavy climax, cock very hard, balls tight as fists, his cum moving in jolts as it tore into Diana’s womanhood.

The encounter was pure lust, love receding in the face of their physical need. Bruce relaxed and let his member slip free of Diana, her feet unsteadily catching the floor again.

“You felt clean,” Bruce said, leaning against the wall of the shower, the water pelting him with its relaxingly warm spray.

“Great Hera, Bruce, do you ever stop?”

“Would you want me to?” Bruce retorted.

Diana’s smile turned the driving spray of the showerhead into a gentle spring rain. “Never.”

She kissed him, rubbing her breasts on his dripping torso, wiping away some of her own soap suds that had been plastered to his body.

“You must be the world’s sexiest man.”

“Which magazine said that?”

“Oh, just me, here, now.”

“Well, everyone says you’re the world’s sexiest woman…”

“Did you take a survey?” Shayera asked. “What was your sample size?”

The water sloshing over their heads, they looked over at Shayera as she fully entered the bathroom, the sheet off the bed trailing behind her wrapped form.

“You know his size as well as I do, after last night,” Diana replied.

“I’m forgetful,” Shayera teased. “But I do remember you…”

She stepped into the shower, sheet falling behind, water now coursing over her naked body as she bent to get the soap. They let her stand up. She handed the bar to Diana. Then Bruce groped her ass, finding it as fulsome and succulent as it had looked with Shayera touching her toes.

Diana soaped her flesh, caressing it as intimately as she had Bruce. Shayera felt a low thrill go through her as Diana ran the bar of soap from her cleavage to her belly, then lower to probe between her legs.

“God, I’ve wanted to do this with you for so long!” Shayera confessed, turning her face upward into the stream of warm water.

“How long?” Bruce asked, stroking her wet hair, massaging shampoo into it. She felt decadently pampered.

“At least since I started watching you two.” Shayera smiled. “But since the moment I saw you, princess, I wouldn’t have turned you down for anything.”

Diana laughed with her new lover as she slipped her arms about her waist and pulled her close. As their lips met in a soft, sensual kiss, Diana moved her hand between Shayera’s legs and stroked her pussy lightly.

“Mmmm… that’s good, Diana… a little higher…” she moaned breathlessly.

Diana found Shayera’s clit, but kissed her before she played with it, then moaned herself as she felt Bruce’s hands lathering up her hair. As she began fingering Shayera, the Thanagarian took over the bar of soap, rubbed it between her hands, and fitfully dropped it to move her soapy hands over Bruce’s revived prick.

“You’ll make me come in your hands,” Bruce groaned, half-threatening.

“We are in a shower,” Shayera reasoned.

“Don’t you want me inside you? The same as Diana got?”

Shayera was tempted, but the slip-slide of her hand on Bruce’s throbbing cock was too good to ignore. She couldn’t stop jacking him off.

“Come all over us,” Diana said, helping Shayera down to her knees alongside her. “Then I’ll take care of her. Won’t that be fun to watch?”

“You just want her all to yourself,” Bruce accused playfully.

“Yes. But after she comes in my mouth, you can taste her on me.”

That was too much for Bruce. Blocking the shower spray with his body, he stopped holding back, arching his hips forward, and gave in to Shayera’s stroking. Moans spewed from Shayera and Diana as he spurted all over the kneeling women, drenching their naked bodies with his cum. They sucked at each other’s mouths with a fury of hunger, the same mindless passion that had Shayera steadily pumping on Bruce’s cock.

Unthinkingly, Shayera aimed the gulping bursts at her own face, opening her mouth to let him cum in it, then going back to Diana’s kiss with a squeal of ecstasy. Bruce aimed the next bolt at the other writhing body, spurting onto Diana’s face so that it trailed down into her kiss with Shayera.

Shayera laughed happily, tasting him anew, and fingered Diana as Diana had been fingering her, the feeling so intense that she had to ram her teeth into Diana’s throat just to have something to bite down on. They sucked and licked at the cum rolling down each other’s bodies.

By the time it was over, Diana and Shayera had fingered each other to a mutual orgasm, their bodies drenched in Bruce’s cum. They pulled apart, both of them gazing up at Bruce, eyes smoldering with wanton lust.

Diana lifted her arms to her lover. “Come down here with us,” she whispered sweetly. “You belong between Shayera and me.”

Bruce practically fell down between them, letting the shower water wash in to clear away what little cum they had failed to lick away. Sandwiching him between their bodies, Diana and Shayera kissed his cheeks, fondled his cock and balls in thanks.

“You’ll come up my asshole next time,” Diana murmured against his ear, her tongue probing it.

“And mine,” Shayera promised, tickling his other ear with her tongue.

Bruce relaxed contentedly between their smooth bodies, his cock giving up the dregs of its power under the stroking hands of the two women. After they’d licked their fingers clean, they joined each other in an embrace. And Bruce watched, waiting for the telltale swell of his manhood to join in.

Whoever was on top when it did would be the one he’d sodomize.

***

The true clincher was what Shayera said after the shower, when another layer of sweat and seed had been cleaned off her, and she was too exhausted for even the invigorating shower to animate her. Bruce carried her back to the bed. She had the strength and stamina of a metahuman, but not the knowledge to pace herself, to reserve, to push past her limits. She was not an Amazon. Yet.

Diana got into the bed ahead of them and Bruce laid Shayera down into the princess’s embrace. Shayera snuggled into the nook of her, the sheets clean, Diana clean, herself clean, everything feeling and smelling and looking pure, pristine, sweet. She basked in how loved she was, in this simple one-night-stand, with these two people who weren’t even hers.

“Diana,” she said softly, “Princess of Themyscira. In the name of Zeus, who watches over all supplicants, I beg for your mercy. I beg for your protection, your power, your aid. Shelter me in your shadow.”

All her kisses before had been passionate, needing, wanting—determined to make Diana feel the pleasure she did. This was awed. Worshipful. Her lips were pestle, Diana’s breastbone mortar, and she withdrew only after a small mark of bruising had been left in Diana’s invincible skin.

Diana was surprised, but not taken aback. She stroked Shayera’s hair. “Do your pledge your life, your abilities, your love to me?”

“Yes.”

“Are my enemies yours?”

“Yes.”

“Are my friends yours?”

“Yes.”

“Is my house yours?”

“Yes.”

“Then you are mine, as I am yours, and I call you sister.”

Her kiss seemed to relieve Shayera of a great weight. With the ritual concluded, Bruce’s respectful silence faded into him crawling into the bed, adding his comforting bulk to the flesh pressed against Shayera’s body. To the Thanagarian—the Amazon—he and Diana felt like two mighty wings, sheltering her. She returned to sleep and dreamt of Themyscira.