A Life in DC Ch.10 [DC Universe] (Patreon)

Note: This was a headache to write and edit; if there are errors, I'll try and fix them later.

A Life in DC

Chapter 10

Doc- https://docs.google.com/document/d/1EV_B2tqBX_5gLztwuk9C9KEhjJxzamOivnqhl5Z4MCc/edit?usp=sharing . Also, the Word, PDF, and EPUB files are attached below. Thank you for the Support!

Vieri barely made it through the front door before the exhaustion hit him like a truck. His shoulders ached, his arms burned from the scratches Ivy’s vines had left, and his legs felt heavy as hell. The sky outside was just starting to lighten, weak gray light creeping over the skeletal trees in his yard. It painted the living room in that dull Gotham morning haze — the kind that never really felt like sunrise.

He kicked off his boots by the door, wincing as the movement pulled at the fresh scratches on his forearms. The house was quiet except for the low hum of the fridge. He locked the deadbolt, dropped his vest on the chair by the table, and headed straight for the bedroom. His wrinkled shirt smelled like sex, jasmine, and sweat. He didn’t even bother turning on more lights.

Selina was already there, exactly where he’d left her earlier. She sat up in his bed as he walked in, the sheet pooled loosely around her waist. Completely naked. The soft morning light caught every smooth line of her body — her firm tits with those dark nipples still slightly stiff from the cool air, the tight dip of her waist flaring out into strong, toned hips. Her dark hair was a messy tangle falling over one shoulder, and there were faint marks on her neck and chest from the night before.

She looked at him and took everything in: the wrinkled shirt, the red scratches on his neck from Harley’s nails, the way he still carried that heavy scent of sex and jasmine. For once, her usual sharp, predatory smirk softened into something gentler. Almost vulnerable.

“Come here,” she said quietly, patting the bed beside her.

Vieri didn’t argue. He dropped the rest of his clothes on the floor and crawled onto the mattress. Selina reached for him immediately, her hands surprisingly soft as she cupped his scratched-up face and pulled him down. She kissed him slow and deep, nothing like the frantic hunger from the raid. Her tongue moved lazily against his, tasting him like she wanted to memorize every second. When she finally broke the kiss, she kept her forehead pressed to his, legs sliding up to wrap comfortably around his waist.

“You handled all three of us,” she murmured, voice low and warm against his mouth. Her fingers traced lightly over the marks on his neck. “My flatfoot. You look like you went ten rounds and still came out on top.”

Vieri let out a tired chuckle, his hands resting on her hips. “Felt like more than ten. You three don’t exactly play nice with each other.”

Selina smiled faintly and reached down between them. Her fingers wrapped around his cock, stroking him with slow, lazy pulls. There was no rush this time. She worked him until he started to harden again in her hand, thick and heavy. Vieri shifted, lining himself up, and slid into her easily. She was still slick and warm from earlier, her pussy welcoming him with a soft, wet squeeze.

They moved together in a slow, steady rhythm. Selina’s hips rolled up to meet every thrust, her legs locked tight around his back. Her breath hitched every time he bottomed out deep inside her, but she kept it quiet, almost tender. One of her hands stayed in his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp, while the other ran down his back.

“Fuck… you feel good,” she whispered, eyes half-lidded as she looked up at him. “Slow like this. I like it.”

Vieri buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in as he thrust deeper. The wet, intimate sounds of their bodies meeting filled the quiet bedroom — soft, slick noises with every roll of her hips. Selina’s firm tits pressed warmly against his chest, her hard nipples dragging against his skin. He could feel every little flutter of her pussy around him.

After a few minutes, Selina’s breathing picked up. She held him tighter, legs squeezing around his waist. “Right there… don’t stop,” she breathed. Her body tensed, then shuddered softly as she came — a quiet, rolling orgasm that made her pussy flutter gently around his cock. She sighed against his ear, nails digging lightly into his back.

Vieri followed right after, groaning low as he pumped one last heavy load deep inside her. They stayed connected like that for a long while, breathing hard, his face still tucked against her neck.

Selina stroked his back gently, her touch surprisingly affectionate. After a minute, she spoke again, voice quieter this time. “We’re getting sloppy because of you, Vieri. All three of us.”

He lifted his head to look at her, still buried inside her. “What do you mean?”

Selina sighed, running her fingers through his messy hair. “Harley can’t shut up about it. She’s been showing that damn car video to half the street contacts she trusts. Bragging about how she called you Daddy the whole time and made you cum down her throat. It’s only a matter of time before word gets back to the wrong people. Ivy’s even worse — her plants are popping up in random spots all over the East End. She says it’s for ‘recon,’ but I know she’s using them to track your patrol routes. And me…” She let out a soft, self-mocking laugh. “I almost got caught twice last week because I was daydreaming about coming here instead of watching my back on a job. Our operations were already shaky. This rivalry between us is making everything worse. Harley’s too loud, Ivy’s getting obsessive, and I’m distracted as hell. It’s only a matter of time before it bites us in the ass.”

Vieri stayed quiet for a moment, processing. Selina kissed him again, slower and deeper this time. Then she rolled them over so she was on top. She started riding him lazily, hands braced on his chest, her firm tits swaying gently with the motion of her hips.

“Just… be careful,” she said between soft moans, grinding down on him. “We’re not used to wanting someone this much. It’s throwing all of us off.”

She picked up the pace a little, rolling her hips harder, her pussy gripping him tight with every downward slide. Vieri reached up and grabbed her ass, squeezing the firm cheeks as he thrust up to meet her. Her breathing got heavier, tits bouncing more noticeably now. She leaned forward, dark hair falling around them like a curtain.

“Fuck, Vieri…” she gasped. Another orgasm hit her — quiet but intense. Her pussy clenched around him as she shuddered on top of him. Vieri held her hips down and filled her one more time, pumping deep with a low groan.

Selina collapsed onto his chest, kissing his neck softly, her body still trembling a little. They stayed like that for a few minutes, catching their breath.

“I should go before the others show up,” she finally whispered. “They’re probably already fighting over who gets you tonight.”

She gave him one last slow kiss, then slipped off the bed. Vieri watched as she pulled on her catsuit, the black leather hugging every curve of her body. She zipped it up, gave him one last almost fond look over her shoulder, and disappeared out the window without another word.

Vieri lay there staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, the faint morning light growing brighter through the blinds. Then he forced himself up with a groan. “Shower. Coffee. Precinct. Normal cop shit,” he muttered to himself.

He headed to the bathroom. The hot water felt like heaven on his sore muscles. He was halfway through washing when the curtain pulled back and Selina stepped in behind him, still naked.

“Couldn’t leave yet,” she said with a small smirk, pressing her wet body against his back. They showered together, slow and lazy. She soaped up his chest and back, her hands lingering on the scratches. Vieri returned the favor, running soapy hands over her firm tits and tight ass. They didn’t fuck again — just touched, kissed under the spray, and enjoyed the quiet moment.

After drying off, they moved to the kitchen. Selina sat at the small table in one of his old t-shirts while Vieri made coffee and scrambled some eggs with toast. The domesticity felt strange but nice.

The small TV on the counter was playing the morning news. The anchor’s voice filled the kitchen:

“…ongoing gang wars between the Falcone Crime Family and rival factions continue to escalate in the East End. Multiple shootings reported overnight, with at least four confirmed deaths…”

Selina sipped her coffee, legs crossed. “Falcones are getting bold again.”

Then the segment shifted.

“In other news, GCPD’s new task force conducted a major raid last night on a suspected hideout used by the so-called Queens of Crime — Catwoman, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn. While the three criminals escaped, sources say the operation successfully disrupted their operations and seized a key location.”

The screen cut to Renee Montoya standing outside the Kane Street building, looking composed in her work clothes. “Although we weren’t able to capture the Queens of Crime this time, we were able to take their hideout and significantly disrupt their operations. This is a clear message that we’re coming for them. The task force will continue to apply pressure.”

Selina snorted softly. “She sounds confident.”

Vieri leaned against the counter, drinking his coffee and watching the report. He thought about what waited for him back at the precinct — the questions, the looks, Internal Affairs probably sniffing around. Montoya and Sawyer. The mess he’d have to navigate.

He took another sip, mind turning. I should talk to all the Queens soon. Tone their operations down. Make it look like the task force is actually getting to them. Enough pressure that they decide to lay low for a while. Win for the task force on paper… and a win for them because they still get me.

The idea was ridiculous, but it made a weird kind of sense in his fucked-up life.

Selina finished her eggs, stood up, and kissed his cheek. “Try not to get killed today, flatfoot.”

She slipped out the back door this time. Vieri stayed at the counter, refilling his coffee, watching the news continue to play, and wondering how much longer this balancing act could last.

***

Back at the precinct, things were anything but normal.

The bullpen was its usual mess of ringing phones, shouted conversations, and the constant clack of keyboards, but today there was a sharp edge underneath all the noise. Officers moved a little slower, voices a little lower. A couple of guys from last night’s raid were still sitting at their desks with glassy eyes, nursing coffee like it was medicine. One kept rubbing his temples like he had the world’s worst hangover.

Internal Affairs had already rolled through once that morning like vultures. Suits, clipboards, and that fake-polite tone that really meant “we’re looking for someone to hang this fuckup on.” They’d asked pointed questions about the Kane Street raid — why the Queens got away clean, why half the team was stumbling around like they’d been roofied, and why the whole operation looked like amateur hour. “Pollen exposure” only went so far when half the responding officers couldn’t even remember their own names for twenty minutes.

Vieri sat at his desk finishing up the last of the paperwork, keeping his head down. His shirt still smelled faintly like sex and jasmine no matter how many times he’d changed. The scratches on his arms were hidden under long sleeves, but he could feel every one of them.

Renee Montoya walked up to his desk with purpose. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, the white button-down stretched nicely across her full C-cup tits. The dark slacks hugged her solid hips and the firm, rounded shape of her runner’s ass. She looked every bit the professional detective, but there was a faint flush on her olive cheeks and she stood a little closer than usual.

“Vieri,” she said, voice low. “My office. Now.”

He nodded and followed her across the bullpen. A few heads turned, but nobody said anything. They all knew the raid had been a disaster.

Montoya closed the door behind them once they were inside her small office. The space smelled like burnt coffee and her usual light perfume. She leaned against the edge of her desk, arms crossed under her breasts, which pushed them up noticeably against the fabric of her shirt.

“So,” she started, “IA was here again this morning. Spent forty minutes grilling me about the raid. They’re calling it a complete clusterfuck. Pollen-zonked officers, three high-profile targets in the wind, and zero arrests. They wanted to know why we didn’t have better containment, why the vines got so out of hand, and why half the team looked like they’d been at a fucking orgy instead of a bust.”

Vieri sat in the chair across from her desk. “What’d you tell them?”

“I told them exactly what’s in the report I wrote,” Montoya said, rubbing her temple. “You got hit especially hard by Ivy’s pollen. That explained the messy clothes, the dazed look, the scratches. I backed it up with statements from the other guys who were still loopy. They weren’t happy, but they couldn’t prove anything else. For now.”

She let out a frustrated breath and looked at him. “They’re making this a big failure, Vieri. Captain’s already getting pressure from upstairs. One more screw-up like that and the task force might get shut down before we even get started. They kept asking about you specifically. ‘Why was Officer Oronzo the only one who came out looking like he’d been in a fight and a fuck at the same time?’”

Vieri gave a tired shrug. “Guess I just have that kind of luck.”

Montoya’s lips twitched like she wanted to smile but wouldn’t let herself. She stepped closer, golden-brown eyes flicking over his face, then down his body for a second longer than necessary. “Yeah, well, your ‘luck’ is making my job harder. I covered for you again. Said the pollen hit you harder because you were closest when Ivy dropped that big vine burst. Mostly true, anyway.”

“Thanks, Montoya,” Vieri said sincerely. “I owe you one. Seriously.”

She waved it off, but her cheeks stayed flushed. She shifted her weight, thighs pressing together slightly under the dark slacks. “Just try not to make it a habit. We’ve got enough eyes on us already.”

They stood in silence for a beat. Vieri could see the faint outline of her nipples through her bra and shirt. The pollen was definitely still fucking with her. He could feel it too — that low, warm buzz under his skin that made it hard to think straight.

Montoya cleared her throat. “So,” she started, arms still crossed, pushing her tits up even more. “You and Sawyer. What the hell was that yesterday after the raid? She had her hand on your dick right in the middle of the lot, in front of half the damn team.”

Vieri blinked. Not about the raid. Okay. Some of the tension drained out of his shoulders. “It was the pollen. You saw how everyone was acting. People were out of it.”

Montoya’s jaw tightened. She stepped closer, eyes flicking over his face, then down his body again. “I saw. But she was bold as hell about it. And you didn’t exactly push her away.” Her voice dropped lower. “I covered for you in the report. Again.”

Vieri noticed the way her thighs pressed together, the subtle shift in her stance. Her nipples were visibly harder now against the fabric. The pollen was still messing with both of them.

“Thanks, Montoya. I owe you,” he said again, keeping his voice steady.

The door opened suddenly without a knock. Maggie Sawyer stepped in and closed it behind her, closing the door behind quietly. The tall detective filled the space — 5’10”, powerful thighs and wide hips filling out her tailored pants, heavy D-cup tits straining against her dark blouse, light brown hair pulled into a loose knot. She looked at both of them and smirked, blue eyes sharp.

“Talking about me?” she asked, leaning back against the door. Her gaze dropped straight to the front of Vieri’s pants, then moved to Montoya. “Good. Saves time.”

Montoya turned toward her, cheeks darkening. “Sawyer—”

“Cut the shit,” Maggie said, voice direct and low. She pushed off the door and stepped forward, crowding Vieri against the desk. “We all still feel it. The pollen. I’ve been wet since yesterday. You too, Montoya. Don’t lie.” She reached down without hesitation and cupped the heavy bulge in Vieri’s pants, squeezing firmly through the fabric. “And I want to know what the big deal is.”

“Jesus,” Maggie muttered, eyes widening slightly as she felt the full thickness. “It’s real.”

Montoya's breath hitched. She glanced at the locked door, then back at them, clear conflict written across her face. Her golden-brown eyes flicked between Vieri and Maggie, jaw tight, but her hand stayed on Vieri's arm, fingers pressing into his sleeve like she couldn't quite let go.

"Fuck it," she whispered, voice rough with need. "Lock the door."

Maggie twisted the lock with a soft click. The small office suddenly felt a lot smaller, the air thick and charged. The faint hum of the bullpen outside seemed miles away.

Montoya stood there breathing harder, her full C-cup tits rising and falling noticeably under the white button-down. The fabric stretched tight across her chest with every inhale. Maggie didn't waste any time. She stepped right up to Vieri, grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands, and kissed him hard. Her tongue pushed into his mouth right away, aggressive and hungry, tasting like coffee and pent-up frustration. At the same time her hand dropped down and squeezed his cock through his pants, feeling it thicken fast under her palm.

"Fuck, it's big," Maggie muttered against his lips, giving him another firm squeeze. "No wonder Montoya's been acting weird around you."

Montoya watched for half a second, a flash of jealousy crossing her face, but the lingering pollen was clearly winning. She moved in on Vieri's other side, grabbed his jaw with one hand, and turned his head toward her. She kissed him deep, her tongue sliding hot and needy against his while Maggie kept stroking his cock through his pants. The two women pressed their bodies tight against him — Montoya's firm runner's ass and solid thighs on one side, Maggie's thicker, powerful legs and heavy D-cup tits on the other.

Vieri groaned low in his throat. His hands moved on their own. One slid down to grab Montoya's ass, squeezing the tight, athletic muscle through her dark slacks. The other reached for Maggie, palming one of her heavy tits and feeling the soft, full weight spill over his fingers. He could feel her hard nipple pressing against his palm.

"Desk," Montoya said, voice rough and breathless. She shoved some papers and a coffee mug aside with her arm. Maggie helped, sweeping the rest of the clutter to the floor without caring where it landed.

Vieri sat on the edge of the desk. Maggie dropped to her knees first, her powerful thighs flexing as she knelt. She yanked his zipper down eagerly. His thick cock sprang out, heavy and already leaking at the tip. Maggie's blue eyes widened.

"Shit… Montoya wasn't kidding," she breathed. She leaned in and dragged her tongue slowly up the underside of his shaft, then wrapped her lips around the fat head and sucked hard, cheeks hollowing.

Montoya knelt beside her a second later, her cheeks flushed dark. She pushed Maggie's shoulder lightly, almost competitively, then leaned in and licked along the side of his thick shaft while Maggie bobbed on the first few inches. The wet sounds of their mouths filled the small office — sloppy, hungry sucking mixed with soft breathing and the occasional quiet moan.

Vieri tangled one hand in Montoya's dark ponytail, the other in Maggie's light brown hair. "Fuck… you two are gonna get us caught," he groaned, voice low.

Maggie pulled off with a wet pop, thick strings of spit connecting her swollen lips to his cockhead. "Then you better cum quick," she said with a wicked smirk. She went right back down, taking him deeper this time, gagging softly as she pushed more of his thickness into her throat.

Montoya looked up at him, her golden-brown eyes dark with lust. "Fóllame la boca, papi (Fuck my mouth, daddy)," she whispered, voice low and filthy. She gently pushed Maggie aside and took him into her mouth, sucking with practiced hunger, her cheeks hollowing as she worked the head.

Maggie's eyes flashed with clear jealousy. She licked slowly up the side of his shaft while Montoya worked the head, her tongue swirling. "Say it to me too. I want that shit," she demanded, voice husky.

Vieri pulled Montoya off gently, a string of spit still connecting her lips to his cock. He guided Maggie back on. "Chúpamela bien, puta (Suck it good, you slut)," he told her, the Spanish rolling out low and rough.

Montoya translated between licks, her hand stroking his wet shaft firmly. "Suck it good, you slut."

Maggie moaned loud around his cock, the vibration shooting straight through him. She sucked harder, clearly turned on by the dirty talk, her thick ass shifting in her pants as she worked him. Her powerful thighs were spread wide on the floor, and she bobbed faster, taking him deeper until she gagged again.

"Eso es, Maggie," Montoya purred, watching her partner with dark, hungry eyes. "Sigue chupando esa verga gruesa como una buena puta (That's it, Maggie. Keep sucking that thick cock like a good slut)."

Maggie pulled off just long enough to gasp for air, spit dripping down her chin. "Fuck… keep talking to me like that."

Montoya smiled, a competitive edge in her voice as she leaned in and licked along the underside of Vieri's shaft. "Te gusta cómo te la chupamos juntas, papi? (You like how we're sucking you together, daddy?)" She took him back into her mouth, swallowing several thick inches with practiced ease while Maggie licked and sucked his heavy balls.

Vieri groaned, his grip tightening in their hair. "You two are dangerous."

Maggie looked up at him, lips shiny and swollen. "Tell me I'm your big slut too. In Spanish."

Vieri met Maggie's eyes, voice low and rough. "Eres mi puta grande con ese culo rico y esas tetas pesadas (You're my big slut with that delicious ass and those heavy tits)."

Maggie moaned loudly, the filthy words hitting her hard. She dove back down, sucking him with renewed hunger while Montoya licked and kissed the side of his shaft, their tongues occasionally meeting in messy, wet slides around his cock.

"Así, Maggie," Montoya encouraged between licks. "Trágatela más profundo. Muéstrale lo puta que eres (Like that, Maggie. Swallow it deeper. Show him what a slut you are)."

The office filled with the obscene sounds of two mouths working him — loud, sloppy sucking, gagging, and the wet glide of tongues. Both women were breathing hard, faces flushed, clearly soaked and desperate beneath their work clothes.

"Eso es, Maggie. Sigue chupando esa verga gruesa," Montoya whispered hotly, her golden-brown eyes locked on her partner with dark hunger as she watched Maggie work. She leaned in closer, voice dripping with lust, "That's it, Maggie… keep sucking that thick cock like the greedy slut you are."

Maggie pulled off for air, gasping, thick strings of spit dripping down her chin onto her dark blouse. "Fuck yes… keep talking like that to me," she panted, eyes glassy with arousal. "I love it when you talk dirty to me."

She dove back down immediately, sucking noisily and messily, hollowing her cheeks as she tried to take even more of Vieri's impressive girth. Montoya smiled with satisfaction and licked slowly up the side of his shaft, kissing and sucking along the thick vein while her hand stroked the base firmly.

"Te gusta cómo te la chupamos, papi?" Montoya asked, looking up at Vieri with glassy, lust-drunk eyes before sliding her lips back down his cock, taking him deep into her throat.

She pulled back just enough to breathe, lips shiny and swollen, and looked straight at Maggie while still stroking Vieri's throbbing length. "You like how we're sucking you together, daddy? Two hungry mouths fighting over this big cock?"

Maggie moaned even louder around his thickness, the vibration shooting through him like electricity. Spit ran down her chin and dripped onto her heavy tits, soaking the fabric of her blouse. Both women were breathing hard, faces flushed, lips glossy and swollen as they competed for every inch.

They kept trading him back and forth like that — one deepthroating him while the other licked and worshipped his balls. Montoya took him especially deep, her throat relaxing beautifully as she swallowed several thick inches, holding him there until her eyes watered.

"Quiero que me folles la garganta duro," she gasped when she finally came up for air, voice hoarse and needy.

Montoya looked straight at Sawyer, still slowly stroking Vieri's wet, glistening cock with her hand. "I want you to fuck my throat hard, daddy."

Maggie looked up at him with hungry blue eyes, chest heaving. "Do it. Fuck both our throats. Tell me in Spanish too — call me your slut while you do it."

Vieri stood up from the edge of the desk, towering over them. He grabbed a handful of Montoya's dark ponytail in one hand and Maggie's light brown hair in the other, holding both women firmly. He guided Montoya's mouth onto his cock first, thrusting deeper into her throat with slow, controlled strokes. She gagged softly but held eye contact, eyes watering with effort and pleasure as she took him.

Maggie licked wherever she could reach, sucking on his heavy balls and the base of his shaft, her tongue sliding wetly against Montoya's stretched lips.

Then he switched, pulling out of Montoya with a wet pop and pushing into Maggie's waiting mouth with firmer thrusts. Her powerful body took it well, her throat bulging slightly as she took him deep, gagging eagerly around his thickness.

Montoya cheered her on between licks, voice thick with arousal. "Trágatela toda, Maggie. Sé una buena puta para él. Take it all, Maggie. Be a good slut for him."

Maggie moaned loudly around his cock, clearly loving the filthy Spanish dirty talk directed right at her. Spit ran down her chin and dripped onto her heavy tits in messy rivulets. Both women were a gorgeous, messy, eager sight — kneeling side by side, flushed and competing, their tongues and lips sliding and sucking against each other around his throbbing shaft.

The office was getting hotter by the second. The wet, obscene sounds of two mouths working his cock mixed with their heavy breathing and soft, desperate moans. Vieri's grip tightened in their hair, guiding them as they took turns. Montoya's ponytail was starting to come loose, strands of dark hair sticking to her flushed cheeks. Maggie's light brown hair was messy, her powerful thighs flexing as she shifted on her knees, clearly soaked and aching.

Montoya looked up at him again, eyes glassy with lust. "Quiero que nos uses como putas," she whispered breathlessly before taking him back into her mouth, sucking greedily.

She pulled off just long enough to translate for Sawyer, voice rough and dripping with need, "I want you to use us like sluts… both of us. Treat us like your dirty little whores."

Maggie pulled off just long enough to gasp, eyes wild with arousal, "Yes… tell me more like that."

Montoya stood first, kicking her shoes off and tearing at the button on her slacks. "Couch. Now." She wasn't asking. Vieri followed, his cock rock-hard and bouncing with every step. Montoya shoved him down onto the small couch and straddled him immediately, lining his thick head up with her soaked entrance and sinking down with a guttural moan. Her tight pussy gripped him like a glove, hot and slick.

"Fuck… you're so big," she gasped, starting to ride him hard and fast. Her athletic ass clapped loudly against his thighs with every drop, her full C-cup tits bouncing wildly in his face. Vieri grabbed them, squeezing the soft flesh and rolling her dark nipples between his fingers.

Maggie watched for a second, her blue eyes dark with hunger, then climbed onto the couch behind Montoya. She pressed her powerful body against Renata's back, reaching around to cup those full C-cup breasts that were bouncing so enticingly with every thrust. Maggie's strong hands squeezed and mauled them roughly, fingers sinking into the soft, olive-toned flesh as she pinched and rolled the dark, stiff nipples.

"Look at you riding that big dick," Maggie said, voice husky and low against Renata's ear. "Your ass looks so good bouncing like that. Fuck, you're taking every inch."

Montoya's head fell back against Maggie's shoulder with a broken moan, her ponytail brushing Maggie's cheek. "He feels so deep… mierda, se siente tan grueso adentro (Fuck, it feels so thick inside)."

Vieri gripped her hips tighter, fingers digging into her solid runner's ass as he slammed up harder. "That's right," he growled, "tell her how full you are."

Montoya gasped, riding him faster, her firm ass cheeks rippling against his lap. "Se siente tan grueso adentro… me está abriendo toda (It feels so thick inside… he's opening me all the way up)."

Maggie's eyes flashed with heat. She kissed and bit along Montoya's neck, then looked straight at Vieri. "Say something dirty to me in Spanish too. I want it. Call me your slut."

Vieri smirked, slamming up into Montoya even harder, making her cry out. "Eres una puta caliente con esas tetas grandes (You're a hot slut with those big tits)," he told Maggie, voice rough and commanding.

Montoya translated breathlessly while still riding him, her voice shaky with pleasure. "You're a hot slut with those big tits."

Maggie moaned loudly and reached down to rub her own clit faster, her heavy D-cup breasts heaving inside her blouse. "Yeah… keep calling me that. Tell me what a big slut I am for wanting this cock."

Vieri kept pounding upward into Montoya, the wet slap of her ass meeting his thighs filling the small office. "Maggie es una puta grande que quiere que le destroce el coño (Maggie is a big slut who wants me to wreck her pussy)."

Montoya moaned the translation between gasps. "Maggie is a big slut who wants me to wreck her pussy."

The filthy words sent Maggie spiraling. She pinched Renata's nipples harder, grinding her own soaked pussy against the edge of the couch for friction. "God yes… I am. I want him to wreck me next."

Vieri suddenly stood up, still buried deep inside Montoya. She yelped as he carried her over to the small couch against the wall, his thick cock never leaving her tight heat. He laid her on her back and hooked her strong legs over his shoulders, folding her nearly in half. The new angle let him drive even deeper, his heavy balls slapping against her ass with every powerful thrust. Her firm, athletic ass lifted off the couch cushions each time he bottomed out.

"¡Sí! Así… fóllame profundo (Yes! Like that… fuck me deep)," Montoya gasped, her face scrunched up in pleasure, mouth open in a constant moan. Her full tits bounced wildly with every brutal stroke.

Maggie knelt on the floor beside them immediately, her powerful thighs flexing as she leaned in. She licked eagerly where Vieri's thick cock stretched Renata open, her tongue sliding along his shaft and sucking on his heavy balls every time he pulled back. The sloppy, wet sounds were obscene — loud squelching, skin slapping, and Montoya's moans climbing higher and higher.

Montoya's body suddenly seized. "¡Me vengo! I'm cumming—!" Her pussy clamped down around him like a vice, thighs shaking violently as hot juice squirted around his pistoning cock, soaking his balls and Maggie's chin. Vieri didn't stop, fucking her straight through the orgasm until she was whimpering and twitching.

He finally pulled out with a wet pop, his cock glistening with her cream. "Your turn, Maggie."

He bent the taller detective over the arm of the couch, her thick, powerful ass up high and her strong legs spread wide. He rubbed the fat head of his cock against her soaked, puffy lips, then slammed in deep in one brutal thrust.

Maggie groaned loud, gripping the couch cushion hard as her heavy tits swung beneath her. "God yes… wreck that pussy. Fuck, you're so big—"

Vieri grabbed a thick handful of her light brown hair and pulled her head back, arching her spine as he started railing her hard. Her thick ass rippled beautifully with every impact, loud wet smacks echoing in the office. Montoya slid underneath Maggie on the couch, sucking hungrily on her swinging tits and licking her swollen clit while Vieri destroyed her pussy.

Maggie's face was flushed crimson, eyes half-closed, mouth open in a string of constant moans. "Fuck… your cock is splitting me open. Harder—make me cum again, please—"

Vieri pounded her faster, his heavy balls slapping her clit on every thrust. Montoya reached up, playing with his balls while licking Maggie's pussy and Vieri's shaft wherever she could reach. The combined stimulation pushed Maggie over the edge fast.

She came with a loud, broken cry, her powerful thighs shaking as her cunt gushed around his cock. "I'm cumming—fuck!"

Vieri groaned and kept thrusting through it, then buried himself deep and pumped his second thick load straight into her womb, flooding her until it leaked out around his shaft. He kept moving, making her shake and whimper through the aftershocks.

They shifted again. Montoya lay back on the couch, spreading her strong legs wide. Maggie straddled her face, lowering her cum-filled pussy down onto Renata's waiting mouth. Vieri knelt between Montoya's thighs, lining his still-hard cock up with her twitching entrance and sliding back inside in one smooth motion.

"Fuck yes," Montoya moaned against Maggie's pussy, her voice muffled. Her hands gripped Maggie's thick ass, pulling her down harder as she licked and sucked with renewed hunger.

Vieri started thrusting slow and deep, watching Montoya's flat stomach tense with every stroke. Maggie leaned forward, bracing her hands on the couch back above Renata's head, her heavy D-cup tits swaying right in Vieri's face. He leaned in and captured one stiff nipple between his teeth, biting gently before sucking hard.

"God… yes," Maggie gasped, grinding down against Montoya's face. "Don't stop… both of you."

Vieri picked up the pace, driving into Montoya faster while she ate Maggie out with desperate hunger. The room filled with the wet sounds of flesh on flesh and Montoya's muffled moans against Maggie's dripping cunt. Montoya came first, her back arching off the couch as her pussy spasmed around his cock. The tight, milking sensation made Vieri groan, his thrusts becoming erratic.

Maggie followed right after, thighs clamping tight around Montoya's head as she flooded her partner's mouth with another gushing orgasm. "Fuck… yes… swallow it all," she cried out, her whole body trembling.

Vieri pulled out of Montoya with a wet pop, his cock slick with her juices. "On your knees. Both of you."

The women scrambled to obey, kneeling side by side on the floor, their faces flushed and lips swollen from use. They looked up at him with hungry, lust-drunk eyes.

Maggie cupped her heavy D-cup tits together, leaning forward. "Cum on us. Paint your sluts with that big load."

Montoya stroked his slick shaft firmly, her other hand cupping his heavy balls. "Cúbrenos, papi. Mark us as yours."

Vieri groaned, fisting his cock as he aimed at their eager faces. "Open wide."

Thick ropes of cum erupted from his cock, splashing across their faces and tits. Montoya caught some on her tongue, while Maggie tilted her head back, letting it stripe her cheeks and forehead. They took turns sucking the last drops from his sensitive cock, then turned to each other, kissing messily as they licked his cum from each other's skin.

"Fuck… we needed this," Maggie panted, wiping a smear of cum from Montoya's chin and licking it clean.

Montoya nodded, still catching her breath. "But we can't do this here again. Someone's bound to notice."

They cleaned up quickly, straightening clothes and wiping down surfaces. Vieri tucked himself away, still half-hard and satisfied. The three shared one last heated look before slipping out of the office one by one, the faint smell of sex lingering in the air.

Clock Tower – Later That Night

Barbara Gordon sat at the center of her main console, legs pressed tightly together under the chair as if that could somehow contain the throbbing heat between them. The body-cam footage from the Kane Street raid had cut off abruptly the moment the bedroom door slammed shut, but the audio they’d managed to siphon through the hacked comms was more than enough. Harley’s broken, ecstatic screams of “Daddy!” still echoed in her mind on loop. The wet, rhythmic slapping of flesh, the desperate female moans rising in overlapping waves, the unmistakable sound of a thick cock pounding into soaked, willing pussies — it was all burned into her brain like a brand.

Her red hair was slightly disheveled, a few strands sticking to her flushed neck. She wore her usual dark tactical top, the material stretched across her full breasts, nipples visibly stiff and pressing against the fabric. One hand rested on the keyboard while the other had slipped between her thighs again, pressing firmly against the seam of her suit right over her aching core. She hadn’t realized she was doing it until the pressure made her hips twitch.

Stephanie Brown leaned casually against the console beside her, but there was nothing casual about the way her thick, rounded ass rested on the edge of the panel, the purple-and-black Spoiler suit hugging every curve. Her full, bouncy D-cup tits strained heavily against the material, the zipper pulled low enough that soft inner cleavage spilled out with every breath. Her cheeks were pink, blue eyes sparkling with mischief and unmistakable arousal as she replayed the same short clip for the sixth time.

“I’ve watched that clip like six times already,” Steph admitted with a breathy laugh, biting her lower lip. “The way he just handled all three of them… Jesus. You could hear how soaked they were. Harley screaming ‘Daddy’ while he wrecked her, Selina trying to act like she owned him, and Ivy straight-up praying to his cock? I’m actually jealous of Gotham’s most dangerous bitches right now.”

Cassandra Cain stood silently right behind them, arms crossed under her chest, but her usual calm, unreadable demeanor had completely cracked. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, her firm, perfectly sculpted ass flexing noticeably inside the tight black Orphan suit. The sleek material clung to her compact, athletic body like a second skin — defined shoulders, narrow waist, and powerful thighs that looked ready to crush. A faint flush colored her cheeks, and her dark eyes were locked on the screen with intense focus.

She signed quickly, her movements sharp and decisive: He’s strong. They all wanted him. Badly.

Barbara rubbed her temples with her free hand, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but her other hand continued pressing rhythmically against the seam of her suit, seeking friction. “We can’t keep doing this,” she said, though her voice came out far too breathy to be convincing. “It’s distracting. We’re supposed to be monitoring the city, not… not getting off to hacked raid footage.”

Steph let out a soft, knowing laugh and leaned closer, her heavy breasts brushing against Barbara’s shoulder. “Babs, you’re literally touching yourself right now. Don’t even try it.” She bit her lip harder, eyes sparkling with wicked delight. “That cop… Vieri. He’s got something special. The way those three dangerous bitches were losing their minds over him? Harley calling him Daddy while she got railed, Selina’s usual attitude completely broken, Ivy talking about the Green singing inside her pussy? I need to see it up close. I need to feel what makes trained killers turn into desperate little cumsluts like that.”

Cassandra nodded firmly, her expression softening into something hotter and more intent. She signed again, slower this time, emphasizing each gesture: Investigate him. Personally.

Barbara looked at both of her teammates, her face burning. The fresh audio of Montoya and Maggie’s office moans — the wet sounds, the Spanish dirty talk, the desperate begging — was still playing faintly in the background on a secondary monitor. She swallowed hard, thighs squeezing together as another pulse of heat shot through her core.

“Fine,” she finally breathed, voice noticeably unsteady. “We investigate Vieri. Personally. Tomorrow night. We find out exactly what he’s about. What makes him turn women like Selina, Ivy, and Harley into… that.”

Steph’s grin widened into something predatory and delighted. She shifted on the console, her thick ass spreading slightly against the edge as she squeezed her thighs together. “About time. I call dibs on going first. I want to see if I can handle him better than those three combined.”

Cass gave a small, rare smirk — the kind that promised trouble — and signed smoothly: We share.

Barbara didn’t argue. The thought of the three of them cornering Vieri, testing him, experiencing whatever power he held that could break Gotham’s most untamable women… it sent a fresh shiver down her spine. She glanced back at the screen where the frozen audio waveform still pulsed with the memory of those raw, filthy sounds.

“I mean… did you hear the way Montoya switched to Spanish when she got close?” Barbara murmured, almost to herself. “And Maggie begging for more? They’re both experienced detectives and they completely folded. Just like the Queens.”

Steph hummed in agreement, one hand idly tracing the zipper of her suit, pulling it down another inch so more of her soft cleavage spilled out. “Exactly. I want to know what it feels like when he grabs your hair and calls you his slut in that low voice. I want to see if I can make him lose control the way they did. Or if he’ll break me first.”

Cassandra stepped closer, placing one hand on Stephanie’s shoulder and the other lightly on Barbara’s. She signed with deliberate care, her eyes flicking between them: All three of us. Together. We watch how he reacts to different bodies. Different strengths. A faint, hungry smile touched her lips. I want to test him.

Barbara let out a shaky exhale, finally admitting defeat as she pressed her palm more firmly between her legs. “Tomorrow night, then. We track his patrol route, find the right moment, and… approach him. Personally.”

The three women stayed glued to the screens for a while longer, bodies warm and flushed, minds already drifting to vivid fantasies of what they were going to do when they finally got their hands on him.

***

Vieri got home well after dark. The drive back through Gotham’s rain-slicked streets had been quiet, almost eerily so. The steady thump of the wipers carved rhythmic arcs across the windshield, clearing away sheets of water that immediately reformed. The low hum of the engine and the occasional splash of tires through puddles were the only sounds accompanying his thoughts. Streetlights blurred into streaks of sickly yellow and red, reflecting off the wet asphalt like spilled blood and piss. He kept both hands on the wheel, knuckles occasionally whitening as memories from the day flashed unbidden — vines wrapping around his body, the taste of three different women on his tongue, the desperate moans of two fellow detectives in a precinct office that now smelled permanently like sex and bad decisions.

He parked in the short driveway, killed the lights, and sat there for a long minute, staring at his small brick house. The skeletal trees in the yard dripped steadily onto the roof, their bare branches clawing at the night sky like they were trying to escape the city. From the outside, the house looked peaceful — a stubborn little fortress of normalcy in a city that devoured peace for breakfast. Warm light glowed faintly from the living room window where he’d forgotten to turn off a lamp that morning. He knew better than to trust that illusion. Inside waited the only sanctuary he had left… and the weight of everything that had happened today.

With a heavy sigh, he grabbed his keys, the metal jingling loudly in the quiet night, and walked up the short path. The rain had eased to a miserable drizzle that soaked into his collar and made the scratches on his neck sting. He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and let the familiar smell of lemon polish and old wood wash over him like a tired embrace. He locked the deadbolt behind him with a solid thunk, shrugged off his damp jacket, and hung it on the hook by the door. His boots left muddy prints on the hardwood as he headed straight for the fridge.

He grabbed a cold beer, twisted the cap off with a satisfying hiss, and took a long, grateful pull as he made his way into the living room. The bitter chill of the liquid slid down his throat, grounding him for a moment. He flicked on the TV. Football highlights were playing — some Monday night game between two teams he didn’t care about. Bright helmets crashed into each other, commentators shouted excitedly, and the crowd roared through the speakers. He didn’t really care who was winning. It was just noise. Background noise to drown out the chaos still ringing in his head.

He dropped into his worn armchair with a groan, the old springs protesting under his weight. He leaned back, put his feet up on the coffee table, and took another long drink. For a few precious minutes, he just stared at the screen, watching enormous men slam into one another while the crowd cheered like it was the most important thing in the world. It felt almost soothing — a reminder that somewhere, in some universe, life was still simple.

But a pressure was there.

It sat behind his eyes like a low-grade headache that refused to fade. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the game, the events of the day kept crashing back in vivid, unrelenting detail. The raid at the Kane Street apartment. The flashbang, the vines, the sudden shift from combat to pure, animalistic fucking as the three Queens of Crime turned on him like starving predators. Then the precinct office — Montoya and Sawyer cornering him, the pollen still burning in their blood, the way they’d knelt and competed for his cock with filthy Spanish dirty talk and desperate moans. And underneath it all, the constant awareness that Batman was probably watching from the shadows somewhere, Selina had already been in his bed that morning with surprising tenderness, and his “useless” assets were now the center of a dangerous web that could get him killed, fired, or both.

He’d been living in this world for years now. Long enough that the initial mind-shattering revelation — knowing secrets, backstories, and plotlines from another life — had dulled into a constant, low-level static. He knew Batman’s identity. He knew how most of these stories were supposed to end. That knowledge had kept him alive, kept him coasting, kept him from playing hero.

But this new mess? This was different.

He took another deep sip of beer and let out a tired, ragged breath that seemed to come from his bones.

Being wanted — craved — by powerful, dangerous women definitely took some of the sting out of the constant danger. Selina’s rare softness that morning, the way she’d held him gently after they’d come together, the surprising affection in her voice when she warned him they were all getting sloppy because of him… it felt good in a way he hadn’t expected. Then there was the raw, frantic hunger from Montoya and Sawyer in the office — two competent, professional detectives reduced to competitive, cum-hungry sluts begging him in Spanish while they shared his cock. It was ridiculous how intoxicating it felt. How alive it made him feel in a city that usually tried to grind him into dust.

But it also made everything far more dangerous. One wrong move, one leaked video, one suspicious glance from the wrong person, and his quiet little life — his anonymity, his ability to coast — would burn down around him in spectacular fashion. His cock was supposed to be a cosmic joke. Now a liability wrapped in temptation.

He leaned his head all the way back against the chair, eyes half-closed as the TV flickered with another touchdown celebration.

“I should go see them,” he muttered to himself, voice low and rough in the empty room. “Visit the Queens soon. Sit them down… or fuck them senseless… Make the task force look like it’s actually winning on paper. Create enough visible ‘pressure’ that they “decide” to lay low, go quiet on jobs for a bit. It would be a win for Montoya and the captain. And a win for them because they’d still get exactly what they really want from me — regular access to this ridiculous cock. Everybody walks away happy. Or at least satisfied and not dead.”

Vieri let out a short, disbelieving laugh that turned into a tired chuckle. He shook his head slowly, staring at the ceiling.

“Jesus Christ. Listen to me,” he muttered, voice thick with self-mockery. “I’m actually sitting here planning how to diplomatically fuck three of Gotham’s most dangerous women so my fucking paperwork looks better and Internal Affairs gets off my ass. ‘Hey Selina, Ivy, Harley — mind robbing fewer places and causing less chaos for a couple weeks? I’ll eat all three of your pussies in rotation as payment.’ This is my life now.”

He drained the rest of the beer in one long pull, the cold liquid doing little to wash away the absurdity.

“This world is fucking ridiculous.”

He crushed the empty can in his hand with a metallic crunch and reached for another beer from the six-pack he’d brought over. The game continued on the TV — more hits, more cheering, more meaningless spectacle. But his mind stayed firmly on the women waiting somewhere out there in the night: Selina with her unexpected tenderness, Harley’s manic enthusiasm, Ivy’s almost religious reverence for his cock, and now Montoya and Sawyer circling closer with professional curiosity turning into raw hunger.

The growing list of people in his life who wanted a piece of him — one way or another — was getting longer by the day. And the scariest part? Part of him was starting to enjoy the chaos.

For now, though, the house was quiet. The beer was cold. And the pressure behind his eyes felt just a little lighter.