He didn’t need to be told twice. Bruce had one chance and one chance only: the Amazonian fighter in the hangar. He had to find his way past the remaining contingent of the Justice League back there, or he would be captured.
“Bruce, it’s time to surrender,” Cyborg tried. Of course he had to try. His hands were out before him, trying to assuage the other Leaguers before they could strike.
Not likely, he observed, seeing several of the men and not-Ivy women begin to rear up for an attack. He saw utter contempt in their eyes, a hatred for being so naked in his betrayal. Unfortunately, he had no way to fight all of them off by himself like this. His best chance would be in pressing haste and exploiting their confusion.
As inconspicuous as possible under such close scrutiny, he brought his left hand over to his right gauntlet and patched himself back in to the Watchtower’s speaker system. He raised the volume to the maximum. Fortunately, nobody moved to stop him, either too distracted by rage or too disciplined to attack while Cyborg was trying to reason with him first.
“I said it’s time, Bruce,” Cyborg repeated, pointing his hand directly at his chest as he readied his arm cannon. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
“Okay,” Batman said. “I choose easy.” He raised both of his hands above his head.
Then he threw his left hand down, deploying a smoke pellet onto the floor. Shouts and cries ensued, several of the Leaguers cursing as a few of them rushed Bruce only to stumble through their fellows. Not all of them were fooled, as Fire began tossing fireballs high overhead through the plume, causing the smoke to dissipate faster than it normally would.
Batman dodged to the side as Cyborg fired at him, ducking beneath the energy beam. He then threw a second smoke pellet directly at Fire as he noted her less-than-perfect features. She raised an arm to block it, flinching as it exploded against her shoulder.
Bruce rolled towards her, coming up underneath her and using her as a shield before Cyborg could get off another shot. Using the obfuscation and Leaguer as cover, he brought his fingers back to the gauntlet, playing the default audio over the speakers.
The world became a heavy blur as the speakers began a loud, overlapping cacophony of bat screeches. Through the smoke, Bruce could see nearly everyone in the room crunch their own ears with their hands, grunts and screams coming from all around him.
Bruce had experience with this sound, remembering the sensation of a near-crippling headache from the Batmobile when it failed to recognize him. Doing his best to tune out the pain, he clenched his hands into fists and stood up. He scanned his environment with some effort.
Taking advantage of the momentary pause in combat, Bruce extracted his grapnel gun and fired up into the second deck of the cafeteria. He launched upwards, the brief flight affording him a better look at the Leaguers in the cafeteria. Most of them were unable to fly, and none of them that he could see were capable of breathing in space. He determined that he would be safe once he was off the ship; the League wouldn’t have the resources or the capability of following him back to the Batcave. He estimated that he would have maybe a day’s head start.
If he could get off of the ship. He could worry about going into hiding later.
Cyborg was still down below, following his movements with his arm cannon. He seemed mostly unaffected by the screeching that beleaguered the League. As Bruce landed on the railing, he fired at the ledge. The shock of the blast knocked the grapnel gun free from his hands. Batman scowled as he saw it smack against the railing and fall down to the lower deck below.
Victor prepared to fire again, but he hesitated, noticing the suffering of the Leaguers behind him. Cursing, he lowered his arm cannon and pressed a few buttons on his gauntlet. Within a few seconds, the screeching ended and the migraine ceased.
Everyone in the room stumbled, recovering from the pains. Another free moment.
Bruce scanned the room, seeing that the smoke was running out in the air from all of Fire’s actions. Close to the edge, he saw Cyborg pressing a hand to his own forehead, trying to still the aches. Nearby, an empty table was overturned, its face rocking.
Where’s Diana? he realized with alarm. Bruce just barely managed to twist to the side and throw his hands up in front of him before Wonder Woman crashed into him. His stance kept him from falling over, but the superior strength of the Amazonian gave her the easy advantage.
Straining, she gripped him around the shoulders and threw him into the railing of the balcony. Pressing the opening, she lunged onto him, wrapping her hands around his neck in a tight squeeze. She was moving much faster than he could track. Batman belatedly grabbed her wrists, trying without success to pry them off his throat.
A strangled curse escaping his lips, he shifted one of his hands down to his belt. Unfortunately, she was prepared for his attempt to access his weapons. Diana’s left hand left his throat, jumping out to latch onto his right hand before he could extract a Batarang from its capsule.
Not as good as Ivy, he thought. An unhelpful, albeit necessary thought.
“Stand down, Bruce!” she forced out through gritted teeth. Her rage was interrupted briefly by a flicker of hurt. A moment of weakness.
One Bruce would not forgive. Though he was still not able to pull the Batarang out, he was able to take his belt off, surprising her with the unusual tactic. He whipped it upwards, clipping her chin with the metallic belt.
Her grip on his throat tightened as she recovered and leaned closer. The disgust and fury was clear in her eyes this time. The hand holding the belt felt like it was being crushed. He felt like he was about to be shoved over the edge of the railing, down to the hounds below.
“Diana!” Cyborg called from below. “Get out of the line of fire.”
”NO!” she shouted back, distractedly loosening her chokehold. “HE’S MINE!"
Bruce looked at the belt in his right hand. Positioning it so that he held both ends in that single hand, he threw the longer end around Wonder Woman’s scalp, pulling her and the belt close to his lips.
“Vengeance,” he hissed, not having enough breath for a louder cry.
Diana grunted, throwing her head back. Bruce let go of the belt, letting his hand trail down her neck to her chestplate and then to her hip.
Having only seconds, Bruce pulled with all of his might, edging his knee under her hip and leaning back over the railing further. A shocked yelp made his way into his ears as her head went over the edge.
Heaving, Bruce twisted around and pushed, tossing her fully off of the balcony and a good five feet from him. When her body dropped out of his view, a newer, more alarming vision came into a focus as a beam of light came right for him.
Cyborg’s sonic blast impacted his chest, knocking the breath out of him as he collapsed backwards. Reacting on instinct, the Dark Knight dragged himself away from the balcony edge before-
A muted explosion came from underneath, the floor beneath him rattling and quaking. Gasps and screams followed.
Pained, Batman reached up for the railing, pulling himself into a seated position so he could assess the damage on the lower deck. His aches were something new, as Cyborg’s cannon left his entire body jarred from the impact, as he could feel some slight muscle convulsions in his shoulders and back.
Luckily, his attack had done more damage than expected, creating a large circular area in the midst of all the Leaguers full of floored foes. Wonder Woman and Fire- looking especially worse than Ivy in their wounded states- lay near-motionless at the center of the opened vortex of people. Gasps and pained cries sounded out from below, more than a few curses following them.
Cyborg stood stiff at the front of the Leaguers, head stilled in the neutral position. As he watched closely, Bruce observed a short sparkle of electricity buzzing across his left hand at the same time that his head glitched to the side and back to the base in under a second.
Breathing out his pains, Batman raised his gauntlet to resume the screeching noise over the Watchtower’s speaker systems, only to discover that Cyborg had locked him out of the ship’s controls.
Damn. That would make this next part more difficult without a belt full of gadgets. Doing his best to suppress the spasms in his back, Bruce dragged himself up the railing and climbed up to his crouch atop it. With most of the Leaguers below still recovering from the attack, he extended his cape to the sides and leapt off of the deck.
----
A black shadow passed above her as she writhed on the ground, looking up at the lights. The wings of his suit obscured the blurry sight long enough to make her shut her eyes against the return of the glare.
She couldn’t quite hear anything at the moment beyond the ringing in her own head; she’d smacked her scalp directly into the ground on her landing. Vaguely, she could feel someone else attached to her right elbow.
Gods, give me strength, Diana pleaded, moving her left hand over to her covered elbow. Instead of feeling the comforting grip of one of her friends, she instead found a stray foot inside of a green boot. Confused, she tilted her head- with some difficulty- to look at whoever was there.
She found Fire to be unmoving entirely, her body facedown and apparently not breathing. Feeling both alarmed and incredibly sluggish, Diana dragged her arms up out from under Fire’s toes and reached over herself, twisting to bring herself closer to Fire’s face.
Diana stopped making progress at around the time she got herself onto her own side, listlessly staring out forward. The barest glimpse of Fire’s chin could be seen from behind her exposed, dislocated shoulder. Diana thought she could see her jawline crunch in a heavy swallow.
Alive, Wonder Woman thought, exhaling slightly in relief. Truthfully, that slight exhale was all she could manage as her breathing became shallower and shallower.
“Dia-a-a,” a semi-robotic voice stammered. It sounded like Cyborg, but through the haze around her mind, she didn’t have the ability to be certain of anything. “Can you he-e-e-e-ear-” The voice was interrupted by a crackle of electricity.
She closed her eyes. She didn’t want to respond. All she wanted to do was… something about J’onn.
Lex can be trusted, she thought suddenly. Lex can be trusted.
“Diana!” a closer yet more muffled voice shouted. The heat she felt on her cheek indicated the speaker was very close, but the volume indicated that he was a galaxy away. “Fire!”
“Barry,” the semi-robot said. “He-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-”
“Victor, what happened to them?” the other man demanded.
Lex can be trusted. Lex can be trusted. Even though her eyes were closed, Diana swore she could see a haloed light show in front of her. The diamond pattern was familiar, comforting.
“-e-e-e-elp Di-a,” the semi-robot continued. “Stop-op-op-op-op-p-p-p-p Bruce.” Another jolt of electricity sounded, followed by a soft metal whirring.
“Emergency shutdown initiated,” a completely robotic voice said. The whirring stopped.
Lex can be trusted. Diana smiled, or at least, she thought she could smile. Lex can be trusted.
“Dammit!” the other person cursed. “Hold on, girls.” Diana felt herself being lifted into someone’s arms. Probably Lex’s arms.
Lex can be trusted. Those diamond shapes in front of her blurred into a single, giant halo of light.
“I’m taking both of you to the medbay.”
Lex can be trusted. The halo turned black.
----
Staggering, Bruce moved further down the hallway back to the hangar. He had been accosted a pair of times by two Leaguers who had been foolish enough to give chase.They should have known that he had had a plan to defeat all of them years ago.
Unfortunately, without his utility belt, fighting past them had proven more difficult than it normally would have. He hadn’t killed either one, but he doubted that either Green Arrow or Speedy would show up for Thanksgiving dinner at Wayne Manor any time soon.
Just a few more steps to the hangar. Recalling his link back to the Batcave, Bruce raised his hand in front of his cowl camera and signaled with his fingers that they needed to evacuate the premises immediately. Stephanie would understand the sign and be prepared to make the necessary arrangements. He’d see them all off to a safehouse that even the League wasn’t fully aware of and-
A stunning blow impacted his chin, sending a shock of pain up through his skull and making him recoil. Grunting, Bruce stumbled back and threw up both hands to prepare for another attack.
All that did was allow him to feel the next blow’s wind touch his arms slightly before he felt the pain in his cheek.
Scrambling by instinct, Bruce spun around on one knee and reached for his absent utility belt for a batarang. Dismayed, he dropped the hand at his waist to his side and looked up at his attacker. He wore a red bodysuit with a yellow bolt symbol blazing across his chest. His mask was off, though still visible behind his head.
“One chance, Bruce,” Barry warned. “Stay down, or I’ll have to hurt you.”
Batman spat to the side, clearing his throat. “I could say the same to you.”
Flash scoffed, slipping his mask back over his face. “Should have figured you were being too quiet today.”
He struck again, disappearing as Bruce felt a hard shove knock him down onto his back. Batman hit softly, leaning in just the right way that would allow him to use the momentum to roll backwards back to his feet. Expecting another attack from behind, Bruce swung his elbow back and up.
His instincts were right, but his movements were too slow for the Flash, whose breeze brushed against his hip as he ducked under the elbow and smashed his fist into Bruce’s gut.
Cursing, Bruce leaned forward to try to grasp and pin Barry in place. The superhumanly-quick Leaguer simply turned into a red trail that vanished.
Can’t outrun him, Bruce thought. Can’t grab him either.
Thinking of his retreat, the Dark Knight jumped, planting his foot against the wall and rebounding off to gain some extra height. He felt Flash’s wind blow by underneath him as he reached for the ceiling with both hands and latched on to an exposed pipe. He held himself there, looking down below for his opponent.
Barry appeared suddenly directly underneath him, staring up at him flatly with arms crossed. “Really?” he asked with more than a hint of skepticism.
His cape trailed down to his ankles, but his perfectly executed jump had put him twelve feet up in the air, well out of range for an normal jump.
Of course, Flash wouldn’t need to jump to reach him.
“Dammit, Bruce,” Barry complained. “I really have better things to do today.” Taking a few steps back, Flash turned to the adjacent wall. “I’m already late for a hot date.”
Streaks of red ran up the wall, around the ceiling and down the other wall in a giant vortex, though it didn’t touch him. Flash ran like a skater would use a pipe to go all around, angling himself that each subsequent loop around the hallway’s walls and roof brought him closer and closer to Batman.
After a couple of loops that were too difficult to track, Flash’s body emerged from the red vortex and lunged at Bruce from the ceiling. Holding his breath, Batman swung his body up and planted both feet on the ceiling. Using the leverage of both his legs and gravity, he pulled the pipe free from the ceiling just as Flash’s body hit his.
Their collision made each man grunt, then repeat their pained noise when they separated and impacted the ground just below the pipe. Reacting quickly, Batman drew his cape over his face and rolled away from the area directly underneath the broken pipe. The piece he had pulled off was in his other hand. Bruce found his feet a few paces away, holding his metal rod in a defensive stance.
He halted in his position, noticing Barry still on the ground, struggling to get much of his base back together. Down on all fours, he shook his head, drawing in deep breaths.
Relaxing his posture, Bruce stood up straight and recovered his own breath. Flash groaned in a guttural fashion, hand reaching for his throat. He didn’t rise.
“Ammonia,” Batman announced. “We use it for climate control on this ship. It’s best that you don’t breathe when exposed to it. Trust me; it burns.”
Rasping on his gasps, he coughed. “I can’t see!” Flash exclaimed. He raised his head in the general direction Bruce was standing in, though his open eyes were clearly unfocused. “I’m blind!”
“Don’t worry,” Bruce said, raising the broken pipe above his head. “That’s the least of your problems.”
Batman pitched the pipe as hard as he could at Flash’s head. The flat end of the rod hit his temple, ricocheting off and clanging onto the floor. Barry momentarily stiffened, then collapsed backwards.
Placing a hand over his face before his next breath, Bruce turned around and strode down the hangar. Flash’s blindness wouldn’t last longer than a few days at best, but if no one found him and pulled him out of the hallway soon, he would likely die from overexposure.
He’d best not be around for the others to show up. Turning around, the Dark Knight strode into the hangar, marveling at all of the dead, blackened vines that littered the area. Ivy would not be pleased at the loss of life here; she’d come up with another, more painful plot to deal with the League later.
It’s time to go, Bruce, Ivy said. She had remained quiet during his fight with Barry; she had obviously been completely confident that he would defeat him.
Locating the single remaining Amazonian fighter on the entire Watchtower, Bruce hopped inside and looked around for the controls. It had been a long time since he had used one of these ships. Unfortunately, his inexperience and impersistence in the Amazons’ technology prevented him from making as quick of an exit as he’d hoped.
Finally, when he did manage to liftoff from the hangar, he checked the cockpit for any weaponry he could use to incapacitate the Watchtower even further. Nothing immediately sprang out to him as an offensive capability.
“Stop right there!” someone shouted from the door he had come in through. Glancing over to his side, he discovered a litany of other Leaguers coming in from the hallway. With that many people, one of them would probably have taken care of the ammonia leak and stopped to get Barry to the medbay.
So much for finishing the job here. Bruce waved his goodbye to his former allies and departed the Watchtower.
----
“Dammit, Ivy!” he yelled, slamming his fist down onto the armrest beside him.
A few moments of silence followed as he contemplated the screen before him, showing a recorded video of the Watchtower infested with vines. This video had been taken just a few minutes before, and from the preliminary reports, he knew what he should expect from it. Sure enough, Superman both came to the rescue and departed within moments on his screen, though an Amazonian fighter arrived before he left.
“Sir…” the man on the other side of the phone said quietly. “May I offer my opinion?”
Ivy’s attack on the Justice League had failed, demonstrated by the plants bisecting the Watchtower withering on-screen. Fast-forwarding at that point, he could see the Amazonian fighter then leave under fire from several beams of light and other elements. His information indicated that it was highly likely that Batman had hijacked the fighter and left with it, though why he hadn’t used it to attack the engines of the facility was unknown. He could have taken the entire Watchtower out of orbit if he had done that, killing nearly everyone aboard.
“Sir?”
“What do you have to say, James?” the Mastermind asked impatiently.
He could hear James take a breath over the line. The phone was, of course, secure. He took no chances when communicating with his allies.
“Well, sir… I know this wasn’t the plan, exactly,” James timidly reported. “But this attack may present us the opportunity we have been waiting for.”
“This attack could have doomed us all,” the Mastermind retorted bitterly. He looked at his fist as it began stinging. His outer knuckle was cut, but the armrest he had struck was mostly undamaged. He didn’t have any powers.
Not today, at least.
“Of course, sir,” his faithful servant replied. “Poison Ivy has never been one for much forward thinking. However, I would point out that she seems to have accomplished your plan of distracting the Justice League for you.”
“Yes, they’re distracted. They’re also on high alert, now.”
His video ended, then closed as James resumed his manual control over the screen in front of him. Several background videos were playing: newsfeeds, live recaps, a direct replaying of the video he had sold for a billion dollars.
The Mastermind looked up above him, inspecting the dozens of television screens around him all tuned to the same stations as those on his computer. Most of them were covering the attack on the Watchtower as well, though none of them had the camera footage that he had. Almost all of the international stations were just showing images of the Watchtower as it normally would be. He doubted more than a handful of people on the planet could know what had happened.
The other stations, mostly those in the Gotham and Metropolis areas, were still covering the other breaking story of the day: Batman’s defeat at the hands of Poison Ivy.
And me, the Mastermind silently added.
Returning his eyes to his own computer screen, he found all of the background videos gone and only James’s face on it. The phone beside him turned off as the screen brightened.
“They’re not on alert to you, sir,” James reminded.
He shook his head. “Batman betrayed them and they know it. They’ll be on alert for everyone.”
“But sir-”
“No, James!” he cut off angrily. “We’re not ready for the next step of the Masterplan. Not yet. And we will not move forward until I say we can.”
James fell silent. He hid his face again behind the images of the news stations. Troublingly, none of the feeds tuned to the footage from Gotham Square credited any third party for having taken the video. By his best guess, that had to have meant that Luthor had released it anonymously without any compensatory considerations. A billion dollars to him was no real object in the implementation of his own schemes.
And to top it all off, Luthor still had one of his finest contractors in captivity. Despite his best efforts, he had been unable to locate his man. He suspected that he would not be able to find him, but he knew at the very least that he would still be alive. Unfortunately for him but fortunately for the captive, he was too valuable to kill.
“Very well, sir,” James finally said. “What would you like to do about Poison Ivy?”
The Mastermind sneered, shaking his head. “It’s become clear that she is too dangerous to be left out on her own. We have to find her and put her back in Arkham.”
“That is no small task, sir,” James warned. “Best as we can tell, she has the entire Bat-family under her control, and they are quite adept at hiding. They’ve already gone to ground, it appears.”The Mastermind activated his override, assuming control over both his and James’s computer. He pulled open an image on file from one of his hidden folders. The image records contained a prisoner record from Blackgate Prison in Gotham from several years ago. A shame about that prison and Ivy’s rather mysterious escape from it; it had proven an effective place to have his enemies incarcerated.
“Catwoman?” his servant asked confusedly. “Are you sure, sir?”
“She’s the only one that can find the Bat,” the Mastermind asserted. “The only one who will agree to do it for money, at least.” He highlighted her associated home address from the contact listing. “Offer her a payday, tell her the stakes, and get her to solve this mess.”
“Again, sir, Batman and his family appear to be firmly under Poison Ivy’s control, even without the use of your gift to her. Catwoman will have no way of breaking them free from her control.”
Closing the file from Blackgate, he opened another one from Arkham. This prison record was much more lengthy, including several comments about the prisoner’s psychological profile.“Harley Quinn too? I don’t think she will be in it for the money.”
“She won’t,” he predicted. His predictions were often correct; it was just this whole situation since he had initiated the Masterplan that had given him some inaccurate conclusions. “But Catwoman will be able to manipulate her into going to Ivy.”
“Ah, I see, sir,” James responded. “Perhaps Harley can distract Ivy while Catwoman takes Batman away long enough for him to break free from her control.”
“Precisely, James.” Another file opened, this one of a purchase order from one of his favorite dealers. “And give her this too.”“Another Lady Charm, sir?” the servant asked, looking over the golden ring.
“This one’s different. It will disguise the wearer as Poison Ivy as she was seen in the video we took, but it won’t give any of her powers. She might be able to sneak off with the Bat-family and return them back to the League long enough for the pheromones to wear off.”
“An ingenious plan, sir,” James commented loudly. He retook control over both of their computers, dragging all three files down to his own drive. “But you do realize, sir, that- if Catwoman can follow your directives- Batman will be freed from Ivy’s control and know that someone gave Catwoman a ring to disguise her.’
“We’ll have to deal with that later,” the Mastermind conceded. “Fow now, Ivy needs to be taken out of the field of play. Perhaps we’ll get lucky and the Justice League will choose to lock up all of them until they figure out what happened.”
“Consider it done, sir,” James said. “I will inform Catwoman of the plan.”
“Nothing else can go wrong, James,” he warned.
Aside from his issues with both Ivy and Luthor, there was a third problem in Superman’s departure. He had pointedly left his friends to die without explanation. The Diamond Lights weren’t supposed to be that effective in twisting a person’s beliefs so completely, which left the only other option being the interference of the magitech booster he had given Amazing Grace weeks ago.
According to the early report, Superman had not been seen since leaving the Watchtower. He could only assume that Superman had gone to find her, wherever she was. In retrospect, giving an alien warrior that magitech booster should have made him think twice, but there was nothing about it he could do that Superman would be able to resist if he hadn’t already given in to her.
“There is one other thing, sir,” James said. “Our informants-”
“My informants,” the Mastermind reminded.
“Sorry, sir. Your informants report that Deathstroke is getting a bit too curious for his own good. He was last seen near the site where one of your employees, Shawn Kimble, was taken.”
“Call him in,” he said off-handedly. “Offer him another contract, lure him into a trap. Same as always, James.”
“Yes, sir,” James replied. “I will have updated information for you within the hour.” The computer switched off on both ends.
The Mastermind sighed, ignoring the cut on his knuckle. Why did everything have to wrong now when he was so close?
----
Superman arrived on the balcony again, relieved to be hearing her heartbeat from the other side of the door. The cries of pain and despair behind him meant nothing.
Finally able to settle down from his near-crippling fear, he calmly opened the balcony door and let himself inside. The lock came off immediately, breaking it clean in two pieces. Unusual of her to leave the door locked.
Siren stepped out of her bedroom at the far side of the apartment. She wasn’t wearing much, only donning the bra and panties she had worn the previous night before they had each flown across the bedroom to various places. Had she put them back on and waited for him to come back?
He glanced to his right, seeing bits of broken glass from where they had shattered the wine glasses. The answer appeared to be yes.
She raised her arm up and leaned against the frame of the doorway, sticking a hip very far out to the side. “Back so soon?” Siren flirted. Her other hand swept across her thigh. “I’m glad.”
“I was worried,” Superman confessed. “I didn’t know where you were or if you were safe or-”
“I’m just fine,” she interrupted. “Eyes down here, mister.” She pulled down both cups of her brasier, exposing her breasts.
Superman’s eyes obeyed, dropping immediately to their place on top of those magnificent breasts. Remember the taste of her breasts, a voice seemed to whisper in his head. It sounded a lot like her voice. You must remember that you need her, and you cannot live without her.
“Hmm, seems like you’re just fine too,” Siren observed, glancing down at his tenting trousers.
She is the one- the only one- to tame you, as she has done twice now. “I should have gotten here sooner. I-”
“It’s okay,” she assured. “You’re here… I’m here… why don’t we celebrate?”
He breathed out his tension, grinning as he looked up at her smiling face. “What do you have in mind?”
She chuckled, stepping back from the doorway and ripping off her bra with one hand, completely exposing herself to him. She beckoned for him to follow with her finger as she trailed backwards into her own bedroom, slipping out of view.
Still smiling, he detached his cape from his back and kicked his boots off. Slinking forward, her giggles reached his ears as she made an impact with her bed. The mattress’s hiss as its air shifted around appealed to his senses as he remembered her weight and warmth.
Superman found her with her head supported by several pillows, making it so that she was reclining more than she was lying down.one leg rested atop the other, crossing in an attempt to hide the fact that her panties were now gone too. Or maybe they were showcasing her ass by sticking up out of its way.
“I was thinking we do things differently tonight,” Siren offered. She flicked her foot toward his waist.
“Oh?” he returned, folding both of his hands under his shirt and pulling it off over his head. Left to wearing only his pants, he knelt down on the bed at her feet and crawled forward.
Smirking, she lowered both legs and allowed him to mount her at the knees. Rising from the stack of pillows underneath her, she wraps her arms around his head and looked at him meaningfully. “I’ve heard a rumor from a certain doctor that you’re quite the fan of mind games.”
As aroused as he was, he couldn’t muster the energy to care about who she was talking about. “Yes,” he said leadingly.
She kissed him, flushing away his thoughts as he tasted the sweetness of her lips.
And then she pulled back, slipping one of her legs out from under him and then swaddling it over his ankles. His thoughts were back, and they were only of her.
“Let’s play a game, then,” Siren decided. “I didn’t bring any toys with me, but how about this; whenever I whisper into your ear, pretend I’m using some hidden mind control power.”
His cock twitched inside of his pants. “Sounds fun.”
Smirking even wider, she pulled him down onto her as she reclined back onto the pillow stack. His chin dipped into her cleavage, moving by reflex to open his mouth to grab a taste.
She moaned, her leg covering his ankles squirming. Sensing the invitation, he stalked further up her body without releasing his lips from her body.
Siren tilted her head down from the pillows into the crook of his neck, planting a single kiss before sidling up to his ear. Licking her lips- her tongue grazing his lobe- she whispered to him. “You will do anything I say.”