Gotham Among Other Gods update

As anyone could predict, Hippolyta served a sumptuous meal. Bruce ate most of it, the feast being as nutritious as it was delicious, but even he didn't have an appetite to match a supercharged Amazon. At least, not for food.
 

Hippolyta sat on his lap, the robe she’d once worn in such a dignified manner now lazily wound around her shoulders, but not done up in any way. Were it not for her wearing the pants of his costume, she might not have any modesty at all. And there wasn't much chastity in the way she plucked strawberries from a bowl on the table and caressed a saucer of cream with them and tasted them herself before feeding them to Bruce.
 

“I had no idea the hospitality of the Amazons extended this far,” Bruce said wryly.
 

A trickle of juice ran from Hippolyta’s bottom lip. “That and our thankfulness to those who gladden us.”
 

She wetted another strawberry with cream, licked it daintily, and was about to press it to Bruce's lips when she buzzed. The strawberry missed Bruce's mouth and smeared cream on his cheek.
 

They both looked down. A compartment on Bruce's utility belt, low-slung on Hippolyta’s slender waist, buzzed again. Bruce recognized his secondary communications device being routed to while his cowl was not being worn. He fetched it while Hippolyta leaned against him and licked his face clean.
 

“Yes?” Bruce asked, his voice giving no indication that the Queen of the Amazon’s tongue was going into his ear.
 

“Shayera.” She was equally terse. “If you're not too busy, we could use you back in Gotham. So long as you got what you came for.”
 

Bruce could just picture her knowing smirk, so alluring, as she detected the undercurrent of satisfaction in his voice. She'd certainly been the cause of it often enough.
 

“I'm on my way.”
 

***

The jungle was sweltering, as hot and as claustrophobic as one could ask for. Branches and vines reached out to dog every step, and though the trees offered shade, that did nothing to remedy the humidity. In fact, the lack of light just made it harder to get good footing. Dinah repeatedly tripped and stumbled, even trying to follow in Diana’s trailblazing footsteps.

Though she had no way of knowing the contrast between Bruce’s experience, walking through the natural beauty of a well-marked trail in Themyscira’s tropical jungle on his way back to the jet, and her own, Dinah found herself irritated with him, as well as just about everything and everyone else in her life. Even Diana was trying her nerves, despite the fact that she was going through the same thing as the blonde. It just didn’t feel like she was, with how invincible, unflappable, and unfailingly optimistic she was.

“Are we there yet?” Dinah asked, feeling an irrepressible urge to be annoying.

Diana wouldn’t take the bait. “Shortly,” she said, clearing more of the brush away by simply barreling through it, invulnerable. “Shortly.”

The next time Diana suggested landing the jet nearby so they could sneak up on foot, Dinah would be sure to bring up who had unbreakable skin and who was wearing fishnets.

***
 

Gotham was looking a little better when Bruce returned, the fires put out, the rioting stopped. But it was still Gotham--he couldn't raise Shayera anymore on comms. He followed her last transmission--the call to return to the city--into the museum district. The police still hadn't secured the area. The museums had all gone into panic mode, shuttering themselves off with bars over the doors and windows, making them impassable to the average street thug. Without them being able to loot, but still freed from law enforcement for the moment, they'd turned the streets into one huge frat party.

What really struck Bruce as off was how the ecosystem of the riotous populace had settled. It just didn’t act like a large protest, a riot, or even a block party. There were currents of violence and aggression, yes, but they settled into a more peaceable crowd on the steps of the Gotham City Museum of Natural History. There, the people of Gotham stood enrapt, some leaving to circulate once more in the crowd, but many more pressing in, as if the laws of physics had been suspended and there, only there, motes of dust gathered in a ball instead of floating in the wind.

Batman set down on a neighboring rooftop, scanning the crowd. Gangbangers, thugs, itinerants, the hungry, and the homeless. Those in Gotham who could often fall prey to a charismatic voice or a cathartic impulse.

Scarecrow could provide both. He was there at the head of the stairs, speaking to the crowd, and behind him, dangling from a chain tied to the museum’s eave, Shayera was upside-down and unconscious. 

Bruce barely had time to process the hostage situation before he sensed something behind him. He turned automatically, drawing his Batclaw, but stopped when he saw that it was Kendra.

His daughter was in her Warhawk costume, its design more chiropteran than hawkish, with mechanical wings built into the armor. Bruce lowered the weapon, giving her a sympathetic look even as he barreled on. “Report.”

Kendra took a bare moment to gather her wits and shove down her relief before she pressed on. “We were clearing out civilians, getting them inside any museums that would open their doors so that they could be safe until the crisis was over? Then… we got separated. I think… I think the group Mom was protecting turned on her. I saw them taking her out of the museum—they were just, they were swarming over her…”

“I’ll handle them,” Bruce assured her. “I want you to use your mace on Scarecrow.”

“Me?”

He nodded. “If something supernatural is at work here, that mace could be the only effective weapon we have. So we hope that it will at least work as a distraction while I get your mother out. She’s our primary objective.”

“And Scarecrow?”

“Try not to hit him too hard,” Bruce said wryly. “But aim for his mask. If his breathing apparatus is damaged, he won’t be able to use his own gas without infecting himself.”

“I, I don’t think he’s using the fear gas. Just look at all of them. It’s like they’re just… his.”

Bruce swept his gaze over the crowd and had to concede that they didn’t look chemically altered. There was something more at work here, but he was unwilling to take any more time to figure it out while Shayera was in danger. Scarecrow—or whatever he was—could kill her at any moment. And Bruce couldn’t even chance letting a child watch their parent die.

“We go on three.”

***

They went as one, Batman scattering flashbangs through the crowd while Kendra made a beeline for the Scarecrow. He almost didn’t seem to notice her, his body slack, his eyes vacant, until her mace made contact with him in a sweeping arc. 

He was sent flying, but at the point of contact there was a sharp flash and a roar like thunder, distorting the area in a way that could almost be attributed to the chemical bursts Batman had set off… but were too vivid, too sharp, to be that mundane.

Bruce filed that away for later. All that mattered for him was freeing Shayera and escaping before Scarecrow could retaliate. He cut through her chains with a strong acid, powerful enough to dissolve the metal, but harmless against organic tissue. It didn’t so much as fizzle on Shayera’s leather costume. She came down, still groggy—he expected fear toxin poisoning—and he held her against his body with one hand as he fired out a grappling hook.

“Warhawk, time to go!”

Kendra was standing over the fallen Scarecrow, hefting her mace for another blow, but her father’s words brought her back to herself. Seeing the mob recovering, surging forward, and the Scarecrow twitching like a bug hit by spray, she set her wings into motion and followed Bruce up onto the roof. From there, they ran.

***

One of the museums nearby actually offered hotel rooms for an elite clientele. At present, they were deserted, the rooms trashed by the earthquake, but the beds still good. By this point, everyone had been working for twenty-four hours straight. Bruce told Kendra to get some rest, brooking no argument, while he took Shayera to an adjoining room. Having given her a cure-all against Scarecrow’s poisons, she was coming back to herself nicely, but Bruce still kept an eye on her for any side effects. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked her.

Shayera bit her lip. “Flushed,” she said at length.

“Try to get some rest,” he told her. “I’ll check on Kendra.”

He snuck to her room, peeked in the door, and saw that she was virtually comatose, her fatigue catching up with her as she learned she didn’t yet have the stamina of her parents. Bruce’s gaze lingered on her, simply relishing her safety at the end of this long, difficult day, before he went back to Shayera. He knew he’d be staying with her the rest of the night, until he was sure she’d recovered.

***

Shayera hadn’t told Bruce the half of it. Coming out of the hangover the Scarecrow’s toxin had left her with, into the startling clarity of the antidote Bruce had given her, had lit up her entire body with sensual appreciation. She couldn’t remember being this aroused since she was Alberta Toomes in 1963. She had fucked at least twenty different guys that year, all of them more than once.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, with her legs spread wide apart, she was fingering her tingling pussy and thinking about some of the highlights of her past life.

She’d had her first fuck at her own birthday party, from Teddy Hopper. Then there was Malcolm Burroughs, a boy she’d met at the record store. He’d been a lot more mature than Teddy, and she’d been a lot more mature with him than she’d been with Teddy too. And there was Claude Alexander. She’d been a little hesitant about fucking a married man, but after he’d licked her pussy a while, she’d gotten over her hesitancy and fucked him dry.

She sat up suddenly, her groin rampant with her wet juices. Damn, what a mess. And her clit was still vibrating shamelessly as she recalled her last fuck with Bruce, who put all the boys of ’63 to shame.

She was about to go see if the shower worked when Bruce finally returned. She smiled lewdly at him. “There you are. I was just thinking about you… you might say.”

Having taken off her costume, Shayera was wearing a black-lace bra with the tips of the cups open to let her hard nipples protrude out. Her black-lace panties didn’t have a crotch either, leaving her wet pussy looking even more exposed than when she was totally naked.

Bruce seemed staggered by the sudden infusion of her sexuality into his thoughts. “I would’ve thought you’d be wearing pink.”

“I like black too,” Shayera said. “What about you? Do you like pink?”

“Depends on who’s modeling it,” Bruce replied. “You really should get some sleep, Shayera.”

“Then you’d better tire me out.”

Anxious to do just that, Bruce walked over to her and pulled Shayera into his arms.

“God, Bruce!” Shayera gasped, shocked by her own response as her near-naked body pressed to his. “You don’t know how much I need you.”

Nuzzling against him, she moved her hand down over his chest, nails scratching lightly across the segmented lines of his armor, until she found the thick bulge in his Kevlar pants, warm and throbbing as nothing else in his costume was.

“How much I want this,” she breathed in a whisper.

Rubbing her warm sex against that protuberance, Shayera lifted her lips to his, haltingly offering her moistly parted lips to his tongue, an offer he greedily accepted. Shayera was thrilled by the passionate intensity with which his tongue met hers, their lips welded together with the same heat that burned expectantly between her thighs.

His hands moved down over her smooth back, tenderly stroking the sensitive points where her wings met her shoulder blades, giving them just a fission of contact before his hands were down at the softly curved buttocks of her supple hips. Bruce could’ve grinned; it was easy to believe his wife was immortal when you considered that she had the body of a nubile teenager, scarcely touched at all by her pregnancy or aging. He slid his fingers into the soft vale between her cheeks, the flesh just as pert and voluptuous as it had been when they’d first met.

Shayera’s hand moved as well, as if in a dance with his caresses on her own body, going down between them to feel the pulsing hardness of his manhood. She excitedly moved her fingers along the stiffened length, her memories now of the first time he’d had her. She’d known then—even before the deed had begun—that she didn’t want to be anyone else’s.

“Bruce,” she sighed, her voice choked with passion. “I want to feel you deep inside me. I want us to be one.”

Biting her lip until it almost bled, she found the nearly invisible zipper on his codpiece and lowered it. She was panting with excitement as she reached inside his fly and felt the wonderful hardness of his erection, throbbing so potently it almost seemed to grow in her hand. Pulling it out, Shayera was thrilled by just how warm it was, the blood burning inside it. She lightly scraped her nails along the swollen shaft, hearing Bruce moan in confirmation that his engorged meat was as sensitive as she could hope for in its aroused state.

“I want you to fuck me until I’m full of your cum.”

Closing his eyes as his wife deliciously trailed her cool fingers over him, Bruce hastily began removing his armor, tearing off his cowl and cape as Shayera continued to provoke his raging erection. She was confident he would soon answer her challenge. Now stripped to the waist, Bruce felt Shayera’s hand moving down between his thighs, cupping his churning balls inside what remained of his suit.

Feeling his cock surge wildly against her wrist, Shayera wrapped both hands around his elongated shaft, her slender fingers still leaving much of it untouched. While she squeezed and stroked his hardness, Bruce unfastened his belt and dropped his trousers down to his boots. Anxious to bury himself inside of Shayera’s fiery sex, he moved as efficiently as possible to remove his boots and clothing without stopping his wife’s handjob. By the time his suit was a tangled heap on the floor, he was panting like a wild animal.

Grasping the lingerie-clad woman in his arms, he pulled her tightly to his body. Barely able to stop himself from totally ravaging Shayera, but concerned as to her well-being after her capture, he eased his prick between her legs with all the self-control he could muster. His cockhead protruded out from below her supple asscheeks, and he rocked it back and forth between her thighs, the juices of her aroused cunt flowing down to it.

Shayera’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer to her body and the delicious hardness of her tingling nipples branding his chest.

“God, Shayera!” he rasped as he sawed his manhood back and forth, their bodies rubbing together, arousing both of them past the point of no return. “You really need to be fucked tonight, don’t you?”

“Oh, yes!” she cried. “I want your big cock stuffed all the way inside of me! I want you to feel my pussy on fire!”

Bruce laid Shayera down on the bed, her only response being to spread her shapely legs for his usage. Reaching down, he caressed the creamy flesh of her cleavage, roughly squeezing the nipples, which felt as though they were ready to burst. Shayera moaned extravagantly, then let out little whimpers and mewls as his hands moved down her soft belly to her sex, his touch almost as hot as she felt between her legs.

Staring down at her, he saw her hot cunt dripping dewdrops of lust, saw the precum burning out of his painfully hard prick. And, seeing how he was admiring her sex, Shayera spread her thighs as far as possible, letting him see just how wet, how open, how ready she was.

With her eyes fixed on his manhood, Shayera’s flushed face grew a lewd smile. “God, that thing’s beautiful,” she cooed. “Put it in me. I need it right now!”

Bruce stood there staring at the pinkness inside her for several seconds, his stiffness looming arrogantly over her splayed cunt. He was going to make her prove how much she needed it.

Reaching up, Shayera pulled the naked Bruce down on top of her. Their lips crackled together like two livewires, and she excitedly ground her pussy up against his thigh. She quivered almost to the point of seizure as her labia slipped and slid deliciously onto the rigid contour of his manhood.

Reaching under her, Bruce gripped a handful of her curvaceous ass, and she shivered and jerked as he squeezed it.

“Fuck, baby!” she whimpered, grinding her hips in impatient little circles. “Fuck me! I can’t stand waiting!”

“You never could.” Just as wildly aroused as she was, Bruce wedged himself inside the obscene spread of her legs, his thick cock slapping down on the overheated flesh of her sex. Feeling his hardened member touch against her hotly anticipating pussy, Shayera shuddered anew, her body practically heaving with need. “I’ll fuck you long and hard, wife. Like no one’s ever fucked you before.”

“Shit, yes!” she panted. “Fuck me good! Fuck me with every last inch of that cock!”

Crushing his lips to hers in a demanding kiss, Bruce pressed his cock into Shayera’s delicious pussy. Her mouth formed a soft O, as if imitating her sex being penetrated. But Bruce halted quickly, having given her his prick only up to the glans, the fist of a cockhead opening up her slit. 

Then he reached down between them and played his finger over her hotly quivering clitoris. An excited sob erupted from deep in Shayera’s throat. Her wings flapped desperately to either side of her, just as her thighs were clenching expectantly with need and the first stirrings of pleasure.

“Jesus Christ, Bruce!” she sobbed, pulling her hot lips from the kiss he was giving her. “Fuck me already! Stick that big prick inside me before I lose my mind!”

Crouched between her squirming, naked legs, Bruce pushed all of his throbbing knob inside the slippery lips of her labia, making Shayera’s eyes shoot wide open. After all her anticipation, making her sex as sensitized and tender as a man could ask for, she hadn’t been prepared for him to feel so immense inside her.

“Maybe I want you to lose your mind,” he whispered to her.

“Then do it, make me, hurry!” she whimpered passionately. “Just don’t make me wait!”

Shayera losing control seemed to give Bruce permission to shed his own. He lunged forward suddenly, forcing his entire length inside of Shayera in one savage thrust. 

“AHHHHH, YES!” Shayera shrieked joyfully. “FUCK ME HARDER WITH THAT COCK, THAT BIG COCK!”

Crazed himself with the immense feeling of her folds drawn taut and squeezing deliciously around him, Bruce pounded in and out of her with even more brutal force, every thrust lifting her ass right off the bed.

“Take it!” he grunted excitedly. “Take it! Take it! Take it!”

He was lost in the thought of fucking Shayera, of pleasuring her utterly, obsessed with the ecstasy he saw in her frenzied motions. Each deep stroke of his prick brought more and more bliss to Shayera. 

“Harder, Bruce!” Shayera screamed, almost out of her mind and loving every second she spent on leave from her senses. “Just fuck the hell out of me!”

Bruce’s teeth were clenched together like tectonic plates as he frantically plunged into her, driving Shayera to the edge of hysteria with every second he spent inside her cunt.

“Harder!” she squealed again. “I want more… more…”

“Take all of it!” Bruce shouted, rearing back and thrusting into her with even more fury than before.

Shayera shrieked. “Motherfucker! That’s it! That’s how you fuck my pussy!”

The savage way he was fucking her filled her with joy. She always enjoyed sex with Bruce, but this—it was like her brush with death had reminded him anew how strong she was, that she could take all he had to offer. Her body was filled with unbelievable passion. She glanced down between her legs to see his cock speeding in and out of her sucking cunt. The sight of his prick gleaming with her juices from end to end only further aroused her.

“Oh, you big-cocked fucker!” she squealed, flexing her hot pussy up to his diving shaft. “Just fuck me to death with it, don’t stop, keep fucking!”

Shayera was losing all sense of reality as she was fucked for longer and longer, the minutes robbing her of coherent thought or memory until she was only aware of his wonderful cock inside of her. Nothing else mattered except for it going deeper and deeper inside of her, and the obscene ecstasy that gave her in every nerve of her undressed body.

“That’s it,” she whimpered, “keep fucking—keep fucking me—don’t… don’t stop…”

So out of breath that she could barely speak, Shayera still found energy to slam her cunt up to meet every lust-driven thrust he gave her. She managed to wrap her legs around the backs of his thighs and grasp his muscular ass in her hands, pulling him against her with all her strength to get more of his beautiful cock inside of her. Her overheated pussy seemed to suck on his rigid prick as he pulled it out of her, only for its feeble action to be overwhelmed by the plunge back inside her passage.

“Harder!” she gritted out. “Harder, baby—faster!”

Pumping into the furnace of her sex with all the strength he had, Bruce could feel his knob swelling even larger, stretching her tight pussy even further. It felt as if his bloated manhood was going to explode from too much pressure. He couldn’t wait.

With their violently passionate bodies crushed together, locked into one frenzy of motion, Bruce roared “Shit, shit, you’re hot tonight!”

“Yes, yes! I’m gonna fuck that fat cock until it falls off!” Tearing at his back with her hands, even slapping his ass, Shayera was getting what she wanted—his huge cock even deeper inside her, and their naked bodies writhing together even closer.

Knowing he was hurtling toward a volcanic orgasm, Bruce ramped up the tempo of his thrusts into Shayera, wanting to bring her off yet again before he filled her with his molten load.

“YES!” she gasped with rapture. “YES! YES!” It was like she was crying out for every powerful stroke Bruce gave her, every breathy exultation propelling her closer and closer to the final monsoon of her pleasure. The feel of his manhood pounding into her wildly sucking sex was more than just the only thing in her world, it was her world, a universe of her wet cunt drawn noose-tight around the wide, bold outlines of his member.

“YES!” she choked out. “You’re fucking me! Really fucking me!”

 

“You haven’t felt anything yet,” Bruce told her.

“I know! I know! Jesus Christ!” she whimpered breathlessly, drumming her shapely legs on his lower body as her wings beat crazily around them. “I’m almost—almost—“

“Feel it!” Bruce grunted.

Ecstatic at the thought of his hot seed gushing into her, Shayera threw her wings around them both, tilting her sex up to receive his cum as her wings pushed down on his shoulders, driving him into her deeper than he’d ever gone. The power of his lengthening thrusts was bouncing her all over the bed, giving her more pleasure than she knew what to do with. She felt her climax building inside her like a flame about to catch. Every nerve and muscle was as taut as piano wire.

“Harder, harder! Don’t you know you’re making me come?” she yelled, wings slapping down on his back like he was being attacked by feather dusters—the thought brought a fierce grin to Bruce’s face as he readied himself for the finale. 

Unable and unwilling to hold back now, Bruce slammed his hands down on the very tips of Shayera’s wingspan, pinning them to the bed. With the wings crisscrossed around his back, the act held them together inside the stranglehold of her feathers. And in that hold, Bruce fucked into Shayera with a wild frenzy, now desperate to empty himself into her clenched sex.

“OHHHHHH, BRUCE, I… I’m COMING!” Shayera keened as her overpowering finish pressed in on her from all sides.

“Get ready!” Bruce groaned. “Here it is--!”

“Yes, yes, give it to me!” Shayera gasped with delight. “Give it all to me, my pussy, your, your…”

The feel of his frothing seed shooting into her multiplied Shayera’s wild climax, intensifying it until she could only speak in hysterical cries of joy. Her bliss was almost unbearable as wave after wave of it, carried on the pulses of his gushing seed, flooded through her—filling her just as his essence did. 

“Oh, husband,” she mewled several moments later, when his cock was finally empty, when he’d slipped it limply from her massaging cunt, when her own faculties had begun trickling back into her head. “That was… good…”

“Tired out now?” Bruce asked her teasingly.

Shayera was still mostly in her own little world. “So good…” she repeated, followed by a long snore.

Bruce rolled onto his back, the weight of his body pinning Shayera’s wrapped wings under him as the woman herself laid on his chest, dead asleep, limbs and feathers only occasionally stirring with a flickering remnant of the strenuous satisfaction she had felt.

Just what the doctor ordered, Bruce thought.