Velvet's stilettos clicked against the polished marble floors of Valentino's studio with the sharp, staccato rhythm of her irritation.
"This better be fucking important," she muttered, her glossy lips twisted into a scowl as she stalked through the hallway. The nerve of him, summoning her like some common employee at—she checked her phone—nine in the goddamn morning. She had influencers to coordinate, a fashion line to launch, and a thousand other priorities that didn't involve whatever drama Val had cooked up this time.
The studio doors swung open before she could shove them, and Velvet stopped dead in her tracks.
"Jesus Christ, Val, you look like absolute shit."
And he did. Valentino slumped against his director's chair like a corpse propped up for display, his usually immaculate appearance gone deeper to hell. He looked half-dead on his feet, or rather, half-dead in his chair.
"Well, good morning to you too, cariño," Valentino drawled, his voice rough and scraped raw. He lifted one hand in a lazy wave, his fingers trembling slightly. "So nice of you to grace me with your presence."
"What the hell happened to you?" Velvet strode closer, her annoyance momentarily replaced by morbid curiosity. She'd seen Val after plenty of all-nighters—the moth demon had stamina that bordered on supernatural—but this was different. This looked like he'd been through a meat grinder and crawled out the other side.
Valentino's mouth curved into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Business, mi amor. I was out all night recruiting new talent." He gestured vaguely toward the set behind him, where crew members scurried about adjusting lights and positioning cameras. "Fresh meat for the grinder, as they say."
"All night?" Velvet raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Val, even you need to sleep occasionally. You're not going to make any money if you keel over from exhaustion."
"Sleep is for the weak." He waved a hand dismissively, then immediately seemed to regret the movement, his whole body swaying slightly.
Velvet crossed her arms beneath her breasts, the motion drawing attention to the deep V of her designer top. "So what, you spent the entire night dimension-hopping? How many did you grab?"
"Three," Valentino said, and there was genuine satisfaction in his voice despite his obvious fatigue. "Three beautiful, desperate little things just begging for me to make them stars." His grin widened despite the exhaustion pulling at his features. "And once I've got them trained up, those copycat fuckers won't be able to touch what we're offering."
Velvet's expression shifted, something calculating sliding behind her eyes. "Copycats? What copycats?"
"Some bottom-feeding parasites in the Lust Ring decided to cash in on our human aesthetic trend." Valentino's voice took on a sharp edge, smoke curling from between his teeth. "Dressing up sinners in cheap costumes and calling it the same thing. Vox showed me the footage yesterday."
"And you spent the whole night recruiting to stay ahead of them." Velvet's lips curved into something that might have been approval. "Smart. Though you still look like death warmed over."
"Worth it." Valentino shifted in his chair, wincing as the movement pulled at muscles that had been working overtime. "Got a half-elf that's going to make those fantasy-obsessed virgins lose their goddamn minds. Already shot her first scene and it's—" He made a chef's kiss gesture with trembling fingers. "Perfection."
Velvet's phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced at it, then back at Valentino. "You need me for something specific, or did you just want to show off?"
"Can't a business partner simply enjoy another's company?" Valentino's voice dripped with sarcasm thick enough to taste. "But since you mention it, I need you to coordinate the marketing push for the new acquisitions. Social media campaign, the whole nine yards. These three are going to print money, but only if we leverage them correctly."
Before he could answer his body started to swayed dangerously in the chair. One hand shot out to grip the armrest, knuckles going white with the effort of staying upright. The other pressed against his temple, fingers digging into his skull like he could physically hold himself together through will alone.
"Val?" Velvet's voice sharpened. "Seriously, when's the last time you slept?"
"Recently." The words came out slurred, and Valentino blinked hard, trying to clear the haze creeping into his vision. Everything felt distant and muted, like he was experiencing reality through thick cotton. "I'm fine. Just need a little pick-me-up."
His head turned toward the set, searching for—there. A nervous imp intern hovering near the lighting equipment, trying very hard to look busy and invisible at the same time.
"YOU!" Valentino's voice cracked like a whip, loud enough to make the intern jump and nearly drop the light filter he'd been adjusting. "Get your useless ass over here!"
The imp scrambled across the studio floor, nearly tripping over a camera cable in his haste. "Y-yes, Mr. Valentino?"
"I need cocaine." The words came out flat, matter-of-fact, like he was ordering coffee. "Good shit, not that stepped-on garbage from the Greed Ring. Go to my penthouse, third drawer in the desk, bring me the whole bag. And if you take longer than five minutes, I'm going to make sure you spend the rest of your pathetic existence cleaning cum off studio floors."
"Right away, sir!" The intern bolted toward the exit, his footsteps echoing off the marble as he disappeared through the doors.
Velvet watched him go, then turned back to Valentino with an expression that hovered somewhere between exasperation and resignation. "You're going to burn yourself out."
"I'm going to dominate the market." Valentino leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. The studio lights felt too bright, drilling into his skull with relentless intensity. "Those copycat fuckers think they can compete with VVV? I'll bury them so deep they'll forget they ever tried."
"Yeah, yeah, empire building, market dominance, I've heard the speech." Velvet's stilettos clicked as she moved closer, and Valentino felt the shift in air pressure as she leaned against his desk. "But you're not going to dominate shit if you collapse before you can finish training your new acquisitions."
"I don't collapse." The words came out with more bravado than conviction. His body felt like it was made of lead, every muscle screaming for rest that he couldn't afford to give it. "I endure. I conquer. I—"
"You look like you're about three seconds from passing out." Velvet's voice carried that particular blend of disdain and pragmatism that she'd perfected over years of working with him. "No sleep when the last time you ate something that didn't have LSD in it?"
Valentino tried to remember and came up empty. Food hadn't seemed important when he'd been dimension-hopping, when he'd been capturing and transporting and directing. The grimoire's magic sustained him enough to keep moving, keep working, keep building his empire one acquisition at a time.
"I'll eat later." He waved a hand dismissively, the gesture weak and uncoordinated. "The shoot for our fresh meat starts in ten minutes. I'm throwing all three in front of the camera at once—more efficient that way." His words slurred slightly at the edges, betraying his exhaustion despite the bravado.
"You're directing another shoot in your current state." Velvet's tone made it clear this was a statement, not a question.
"I'm not," Valentino said, each word coming out with deliberate precision despite the fog pressing against his skull. "And what you're suggesting is crazy."
The studio doors burst open. The imp intern sprinted across the floor, clutching a clear plastic bag filled with white powder. He skidded to a stop beside Valentino's chair, thrusting the cocaine forward with trembling hands.
"Four minutes and thirty-seven seconds, sir!"
Valentino snatched the bag, his fingers working at the seal with more coordination than anything else he'd managed in the last hour. The plastic tore open, and he reached inside, extracting a generous amount of powder between two fingers. He brought it to his nose and inhaled sharply—once, twice, a third time in rapid succession.
The effect was immediate and electric.
Energy crashed through his system like lightning striking dead nerves. The fog lifted from his mind with brutal efficiency, replaced by razor-sharp clarity that made the studio lights snap into perfect focus. His heart hammered against his ribs, fast and powerful, pumping vitality through exhausted muscles. The trembling in his hands stopped. The weight pressing down on his shoulders evaporated.
Valentino surged to his feet, the movement fluid and controlled. His wings spread wide behind him, no longer drooping with exhaustion but extended in their full impressive span. The dark circles under his eyes were still there, but they didn't matter anymore—not when cocaine sang through his blood and made him feel invincible.
"Now!" His voice boomed across the studio with renewed vigor. "Now I'm going to direct, and it's going to be fucking spectacular." He spun toward Velvet, his movements sharp and energetic. "You want to stay and watch? I honestly can't remember why I called you down here in the first place, but you're here now, so you might as well enjoy the show."
Velvet's expression shifted from concern to resigned amusement. "Sure, why the hell not. I've got time before my next meeting."
"Perfect!" Valentino clapped his hands together, the sound echoing through the studio. His mind raced ahead, already choreographing shots, planning angles, calculating how to capture maximum depravity from three performers simultaneously. "Someone get those three ready! I want them on set in five minutes!"
The crew exploded into motion around him. Lighting technicians adjusted their equipment. Camera operators checked their positions. Sound engineers tested their levels. The machine of his empire whirred to life, and Valentino stood at its center—exhausted body flooded with artificial energy, mind sharp as broken glass, ready to create something that would make those copycat fuckers weep with inadequacy.
His empire was expanding. His vision was manifesting. And nothing—not exhaustion, not competition, not the concerned looks Velvet kept shooting him—was going to slow him down.
"ACTION!"
——————————————————————————————————————————
Skyscrapers rose against the night sky of the city, their windows glowing with the amber warmth of occupied apartments and the harsh fluorescence of late-night offices. Concrete rooftops stretched before them, each one at different heights in the city's chaotic architectural sprawl. Steam billowed from vents and manholes, curling around air conditioning units and satellite dishes. The distant wail of police sirens echoed between buildings, and somewhere below, horns blared as yellow cabs navigated the grid of streets that never truly slept.
Barbara stood at the edge of the highest platform, her body silhouetted against the city lights. The purple and black bodysuit clung to every curve of her athletic frame—the fabric stretched taut across her small, firm breasts, emphasizing their shape without the barrier of a bra beneath. The bat emblem centered on her chest caught the light with each breath she took. Her utility belt sat low on her hips, the pouches and gadgets arranged with functional precision around her narrow waist. The cape flowed behind her in the breeze generated by hidden fans, the black fabric rippling and snapping with dramatic effect.
Her cowl concealed most of her face, leaving only her mouth and jawline visible. Red hair spilled from beneath the mask in a long ponytail that hung between her shoulder blades, the strands catching hints of purple from the ambient lighting. She shifted her weight, and the movement made her ass flex beneath the bodysuit—round and firm, the fabric molding to the curve of each cheek and disappearing into the cleft between them.
She surveyed the city spread below her vantage point, her posture alert and ready. Her gloved hands rested on her hips as she scanned the rooftops and alleyways created by clever set design and forced perspective.
The sound of footsteps made her turn—two sets, approaching from the adjacent rooftop platform positioned ten feet away and slightly lower.
Stephanie emerged first, her compact body moving with barely contained energy. The red tunic hugged her athletic torso, the fabric tight enough to show the outline of her small breasts and the flat plane of her stomach. The green shorts rode low on her hips and high on her thighs, leaving most of her legs bare except for the black boots that came up to mid-calf. Her utility belt matched Barbara's—functional pouches arranged around her waist—and her cape swung behind her with each quick, confident step. The domino mask concealed the upper portion of her face, but her blonde hair was visible in short, choppy layers that barely reached her shoulders.
Cassandra followed half a step behind, her movements fluid and eerily silent despite the platform's surface. Her Batgirl costume differed from Barbara's in color—black and yellow instead of purple—but the cut was nearly identical. The bodysuit molded to her petite frame like a second skin, emphasizing her small breasts and the lean muscle definition in her arms and legs. Her cape hung shorter than the others, ending at mid-thigh rather than flowing to the ground. The yellow bat emblem stood out starkly against the black fabric covering her chest. Her short black hair framed delicate features, and her dark eyes watched everything with an intensity that suggested she was cataloging every detail of her surroundings.
Both of them landed on Barbara's platform with practiced ease, Stephanie's boots hitting the concrete with a solid thump while Cassandra's arrival was nearly soundless.
"Anything?" Stephanie asked, moving to stand beside Barbara at the edge. Her voice carried that characteristic impatience, like she was ready for action and frustrated by its absence.
Barbara shook her head, her gaze still sweeping across the false cityscape. "Quiet night so far. Almost too quiet."
Cassandra positioned herself on Barbara's other side, her body language alert but contained. She didn't speak, but Barbara felt the slight shift in the air as the younger woman scanned the rooftops with the same thoroughness she herself had employed.
The three of them stood in a line—purple, red and green, black and yellow—their capes moving in synchronized rhythm as they looked across the city. The sky behind them glowed with the neon lights of a city that never truly slept, and somewhere in the distance you could hear the noise of traffic and distant sirens.
Stephanie shifted her weight, the movement sharp and restless. "This is so boring," she announced, her voice cutting through the ambient city noise. "Absolutely nothing is going on. We've been standing here for twenty minutes watching literally nothing happen."
Barbara's jaw tightened beneath her cowl. The complaint grated against her nerves like sandpaper, and she turned her head to fix Stephanie with what she hoped was a stern look despite half her face being concealed. "You need to stay focused. Patrol isn't about constant action—it's about vigilance. The moment you let your guard down is when—"
"Yeah, yeah, when something happens." Stephanie rolled her eyes, visible even through the mask. "I've heard the speech before, Babs. Multiple times. But come on, you've been wound tighter than a drum lately. Maybe if you weren't so uptight all the time, patrol wouldn't feel like watching paint dry."
Heat crept up Barbara's neck. She could feel it spreading across her jaw, probably visible to both of them. "I am not uptight. I'm professional. There's a difference."
"Sure there is." Stephanie's grin widened, and there was something wicked in the curve of her lips. "You've been extra tense since you and Dick broke up. What's it been, three months now? I bet you're just missing the sex."
The heat in Barbara's face intensified, spreading across her cheeks in a flush she couldn't control. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. "That is—that's completely inappropriate. We're on patrol, Stephanie. We don't discuss—I'm not discussing my personal life while—"
"Oh my god, you're blushing." Stephanie's laugh echoed across the rooftop, loud and delighted. "Look at you! You are thinking about the sex!"
Barbara's hands clenched into fists at her sides. The urge to defend herself warred with the mortifying realization that Stephanie wasn't entirely wrong. The breakup had been clean, mutual even, but that didn't mean her body had stopped wanting things it had grown accustomed to having. And standing here in the dark with nothing to distract her from those thoughts certainly wasn't helping.
"I'm not—we're not having this conversation." Barbara turned away, trying to regain some semblance of authority. "Both of you need to focus on—"
"When was the last time you even got laid?" Stephanie continued, clearly enjoying herself now. "Because honestly, Babs, it's starting to show. You're wound so tight I'm surprised you haven't snapped in half."
Cassandra's head tilted slightly, and though she didn't speak, Barbara caught the faint quirk at the corner of her mouth. Even Cassandra found this amusing. Wonderful.
Barbara's fingers dug into her palms through the gloves. This was exactly why she hated working with Stephanie sometimes. The girl had no sense of boundaries, no understanding of professional conduct. And worse, she had an uncanny ability to hit exactly where it hurt most.
"My personal life is none of your business," Barbara said, keeping her voice level through sheer force of will. "And it has absolutely nothing to do with my ability to lead this team."
"Nobody said it did." Stephanie moved closer, and Barbara could feel the younger woman's presence at her shoulder. "I'm just saying, maybe if you got some, you wouldn't be so—"
"So what?" Barbara spun to face her, the movement sharp enough to make her cape snap. "So eager to do my job? So committed to keeping this city safe? So unwilling to treat patrol like it's some kind of joke?"
Stephanie held up both hands in mock surrender, but the grin never left her face. "Whoa, defensive much? I'm just trying to help. You're clearly frustrated, and I'm just offering a potential solution."
The worst part was that Barbara could feel the truth in those words settling into her chest like lead. She was frustrated. She was tense. And yes, part of that frustration had absolutely nothing to do with patrol or criminals or maintaining focus. Her body had needs that weren't being met, and standing here in the dark having those needs pointed out wasn't making them any less insistent.
"It's not about helping," Barbara said, but her voice lacked the conviction she wanted it to carry. "It's about maintaining professional standards. We have a job to do, and I can't—"
"Can't what?" Stephanie interrupted, stepping even closer. "Can't admit that being this wound up is actually affecting your performance? Because it is, Babs. I've watched you second-guess calls you would've made instantly six months ago. I've seen you hesitate in situations where the old you would've already moved. You're not at your A-game, and we both know it."
The words hit harder than Barbara wanted to acknowledge. She felt the truth of them settling into her chest, mixing with the frustration and embarrassment already churning there. Her jaw clenched so hard her teeth ached.
"So what do you suggest?" The question came out sharper than she intended, defensive and raw. "Since you seem to have all the answers."
Stephanie's smirk widened into something that made Barbara's stomach flip with sudden awareness. "I suggest we fix the problem."
Before Barbara could process what that meant, Stephanie closed the remaining distance between them. Her gloved hand came up to cup Barbara's jaw, fingers pressing against skin left exposed by the cowl. The touch sent electricity racing down Barbara's spine, and then Stephanie's mouth was on hers.
The kiss landed hot and demanding, Stephanie's lips moving with confident pressure that made Barbara's brain short-circuit. For a moment—one breathless, disorienting moment—Barbara stood frozen, caught between shock and the sudden rush of arousal that flooded her system. Stephanie's tongue pushed past her parted lips, and the wet heat of it made Barbara's knees go weak.
Her hands came up automatically, gripping Stephanie's shoulders. She should push her away. She should stop this. They were on patrol, in costume, with Cassandra standing right there watching—
But Stephanie's mouth moved against hers with practiced skill, and Barbara's body responded with desperate enthusiasm. Her fingers tightened on the fabric of Stephanie's tunic, pulling her closer instead of pushing her back. The kiss deepened, turned hungry, and Barbara heard herself make a sound that was absolutely not professional or appropriate or anything resembling the stern mentor she was supposed to be.
Stephanie's hand slid from her jaw to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in the ponytail hanging from beneath Barbara's cowl. The grip sent sparks of pleasure racing down her spine, and Barbara pressed closer, her body taking over where her mind had completely failed to maintain control.
When Stephanie finally pulled back, Barbara's breath came in short gasps. Her lips felt swollen and sensitive, and the heat that had been in her face earlier now spread through her entire body in waves.
"There," Stephanie said, her voice rough and satisfied. "That's a start."
Barbara's mouth opened but no words came out. Her brain struggled to form coherent thoughts through the haze of arousal clouding her judgment. Cassandra stood exactly where she'd been before, her dark eyes watching them with that characteristic intensity, her expression unreadable but definitely not surprised.
"We—" Barbara tried again, her voice coming out embarrassingly breathless. "We can't—this is—"
"This is exactly what you need," Stephanie interrupted, her thumb brushing across Barbara's lower lip. "And you know it."
The worst part was that Barbara couldn't argue. Her body thrummed with need, her costume suddenly felt too tight, and the ache between her thighs had intensified to something demanding and impossible to ignore. Stephanie was right. She did need this. Desperately.
"Cassandra—" Barbara managed, turning her head toward the other Batgirl.
Cassandra's slight smile widened fractionally. She took one step forward, then another, moving with that liquid grace until she stood close enough for Barbara to feel the heat radiating from her small body. Her hand came up slowly, deliberately, and pressed flat against Barbara's stomach through the bodysuit.
The touch sent another jolt of electricity through Barbara's nervous system. Cassandra's dark eyes held hers, and in that moment Barbara understood exactly what was being offered.
Barbara's breath caught as Cassandra's hand slid lower, fingers tracing the line of her utility belt before dipping beneath it. The touch was feather-light but deliberate, and Barbara felt her hips shift forward involuntarily, seeking more pressure, more contact, more of anything that would ease the ache building between her thighs.
Stephanie's mouth found her neck, lips pressing against the exposed skin below her jaw. The wet heat of her tongue traced along the pulse point, and Barbara's head tilted back automatically, giving her better access. Her hands remained locked on Stephanie's shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of her tunic hard enough that her knuckles ached.
"We shouldn't—" Barbara tried again, but the words dissolved into a gasp as Cassandra's fingers pressed more firmly against her pussy through the bodysuit. The fabric was too thick, too much of a barrier, but the pressure sent sparks racing up her spine anyway.
"Stop thinking," Stephanie murmured against her throat, teeth grazing skin. "Just feel."
Cassandra's other hand came up to cup Barbara's breast through the purple fabric, thumb brushing across where her nipple had hardened into a tight peak. The dual sensation—pressure between her legs and the gentle manipulation of her breast—made Barbara's knees buckle slightly. Stephanie's arm wrapped around her waist, supporting her weight, holding her upright as Cassandra continued her exploration.
Barbara's mind screamed that this was wrong, that they were on patrol, that someone could see them, that she was supposed to be the leader, the professional one. But her body had other priorities. The ache between her thighs intensified with each stroke of Cassandra's fingers, and Stephanie's mouth on her neck sent waves of heat radiating through her core.
"Please," Barbara whispered, not even sure what she was begging for. More? Less? For them to stop? For them to never stop?
Stephanie pulled back from her neck, and Barbara caught the satisfied gleam in her eyes through the mask. "Please what, Babs? You need to use your words."
"I need—" Barbara's voice cracked. Her hips rolled against Cassandra's hand, seeking friction that the bodysuit denied her. "I need you to—fuck—I need—"
"You need to get fucked," Stephanie finished for her, her grin sharp and wicked. "That's what you need. And we're going to take care of that."
Cassandra's hand withdrew from between Barbara's legs, and the loss of pressure made Barbara whimper—an embarrassing, desperate sound that she couldn't suppress. But then Cassandra's fingers moved to the zipper hidden in the seam of Barbara's bodysuit, the one that ran from her sternum down to her pelvis.
The sound of the zipper opening seemed impossibly loud in the quiet rooftop. Barbara felt the fabric part, felt cool air hit her skin as the bodysuit opened to expose her chest and stomach. She wasn't wearing anything underneath—the costume's design didn't allow for it—and now her small breasts were bare, nipples hard and aching in the night air.
Stephanie's hand came up to cup one breast, palm pressing against the soft flesh while her thumb circled the nipple. The touch sent another jolt straight to Barbara's pussy, and she bit her lip to suppress the moan building in her throat.
"Much better," Stephanie said, her voice low and rough. She leaned down and took Barbara's other nipple into her mouth, tongue swirling around the sensitive peak before sucking hard.
Barbara's back arched, pushing her breast deeper into Stephanie's mouth. Her hands flew to Stephanie's head, fingers tangling in short blonde hair, holding her in place. The wet heat of Stephanie's mouth combined with the pressure of her hand on the other breast created a feedback loop of pleasure that made thinking impossible.
Cassandra continued pulling the zipper down, past Barbara's stomach, past her utility belt which she unclasped with practiced efficiency, all the way down until the bodysuit hung open completely. Barbara's pussy was exposed now, the lips already swollen and glistening with arousal that had been building since Stephanie first kissed her.
Cassandra's fingers traced along Barbara's inner thigh, moving with deliberate slowness that made Barbara want to scream. The touch was light, teasing, not nearly enough pressure. Barbara's hips shifted, trying to guide those fingers where she needed them most, but Cassandra maintained the same torturous pace.
"Please," Barbara gasped, her voice breaking on the word. "Please, Cassandra, I need—"
Cassandra's dark eyes met hers, and Barbara saw the slight curve of her lips—not quite a smile but close. Then those fingers slid higher, finally making contact with Barbara's pussy.
The first touch sent electricity through Barbara's entire body. Cassandra's fingers stroked along her slit, gathering the wetness there before circling her clit with gentle pressure. Barbara's hips bucked forward, seeking more, and Cassandra obliged by pressing harder.
Stephanie released Barbara's nipple with a wet pop and straightened, her hand still kneading Barbara's breast. "You're so fucking wet," she said, watching Cassandra's fingers work. "How long have you been this desperate, Babs?"
Barbara couldn't answer. Cassandra's fingers moved in slow circles around her clit, the pressure perfect and maddening at the same time. Her thighs trembled, and she had to grip Stephanie's shoulders harder to stay upright.
"Too long," Barbara finally managed, her voice shaking. "God, too fucking long."
Stephanie's grin widened. "Then let's not waste any more time."
She stepped back, and Barbara nearly whimpered at the loss of support. But Stephanie was already moving, her hands going to the fastenings of her own costume. The green shorts came off first—quick, efficient movements that left her lower half bare except for the black boots still laced to mid-calf. The red tunic stayed on, bunched up above her small breasts, leaving her pussy exposed and glistening in the ambient light.
Cassandra followed suit, her hands moving to the hidden fastenings of her bodysuit with practiced ease. The fabric parted at strategic points—peeling away from her breasts and hips while the rest remained in place. The black and yellow costume still covered her arms, legs, and torso, but her small breasts were now bare, nipples hard in the cool air, and the bodysuit hung open at her crotch to expose the smooth skin of her pussy.
Barbara's brain struggled to process the sight of them—both still mostly in costume, capes still attached, masks still in place, but with their most intimate parts exposed and ready. It was obscene and arousing in equal measure.
Stephanie's hand went to her utility belt, fingers finding one of the pouches with the kind of muscle memory that came from years of training. She pulled out a black case, about the size of her palm, and flipped it open with her thumb.
"Batman taught us to always be prepared for anything," Stephanie said, her grin turning absolutely wicked as she pulled a slim purple vibrator from the case. The toy was maybe six inches long, curved slightly, designed for internal use. "And I mean anything."
Barbara's eyes widened. "You keep—you keep sex toys in your utility belt?"
"Obviously." Stephanie turned the base of the vibrator, and it hummed to life in her hand. "You never know when you might need to work out some tension in the field."
Cassandra's hand had gone to her own belt, retrieving a similar case. She opened it to reveal a slightly larger toy—black silicone, thicker than Stephanie's, with a pronounced curve designed to hit specific spots. She held it up for Barbara to see, her dark eyes glinting with something that might have been amusement.
"This is insane," Barbara breathed, but her pussy clenched at the sight of those toys, at the promise they represented. "This is—we're supposed to be on patrol—"
"And we're about to patrol your pussy," Stephanie interrupted. She stepped closer, the vibrator still humming in her hand. "Now stop overthinking and let us take care of you."
Cassandra moved behind Barbara, her small hands sliding around to cup Barbara's breasts. The touch was gentle but firm, thumbs circling nipples that were already painfully hard. Barbara felt Cassandra's body press against her back, the fabric of the bodysuit rough against her exposed skin, and then Cassandra's mouth was on her neck—lips and tongue working the sensitive spot below her ear.
Stephanie knelt in front of Barbara, her face level with Barbara's exposed pussy. The vibrator hummed between her fingers as she looked up, meeting Barbara's eyes through their masks. "Spread your legs wider."
Barbara obeyed without thinking, her thighs parting to give Stephanie better access. The position made her feel vulnerable and exposed, but the ache between her legs had become unbearable. She needed this. Needed them. Needed anything that would ease the desperate hunger consuming her.
Stephanie's free hand stroked along Barbara's inner thigh, nails scratching lightly against sensitive skin. "You're dripping," she observed, her voice rough with arousal. "Absolutely fucking soaked."
The vibrator touched Barbara's clit, and the sensation made her entire body jerk. The vibrations sent waves of pleasure radiating through her core, and she had to grip Cassandra's arms to stay upright. Stephanie moved the toy in slow circles, applying just enough pressure to make Barbara's hips roll forward, seeking more.
"Please," Barbara gasped, her head falling back against Cassandra's shoulder. "Please, I need—"
Stephanie dragged the vibrator down through Barbara's folds, coating it in her arousal. The tip pressed against her entrance, and Barbara felt her pussy clench in anticipation. Then Stephanie pushed it inside—slow, deliberate, letting Barbara feel every inch as it filled her.
The stretch was perfect. Barbara's walls clenched around the intrusion, and the vibrations seemed to reach every nerve ending inside her. Stephanie worked the toy deeper until it was fully seated, then began to move it—pulling it out partway before pushing it back in, establishing a rhythm that made Barbara's knees go weak.
Cassandra's hands continued their work on Barbara's breasts, kneading the soft flesh while her mouth moved along Barbara's neck. The combination of sensations—the toy fucking her pussy, Cassandra's hands on her breasts, Cassandra's mouth on her neck—pushed Barbara rapidly toward the edge.
"That's it," Stephanie murmured, watching Barbara's face as she worked the vibrator. "Let go, Babs. Stop holding back."
Barbara's hips moved on their own, rolling to meet each thrust of the toy. The pressure built in her core, tension coiling tighter and tighter. Cassandra's fingers pinched her nipples—hard enough to send sparks of pain-pleasure racing down her spine—and Barbara felt her control shatter.
The orgasm crashed through her with brutal intensity. Her pussy clenched around the vibrator, waves of pleasure radiating out from her core to every extremity. She cried out—loud and desperate—her body shaking in Cassandra's grip as Stephanie continued to work the toy, prolonging the sensation until Barbara thought she might pass out from the intensity.
When the waves finally subsided, Barbara slumped back against Cassandra, her legs trembling and barely able to support her weight. Stephanie slowly withdrew the vibrator, and the loss of fullness made Barbara whimper.
Barbara's legs trembled so badly she thought they might give out completely. Her pussy still pulsed with aftershocks, each one sending residual pleasure through her core. Cassandra's arms tightened around her waist, supporting her weight, and Barbara felt the younger woman's breath hot against her neck.
"We're not done," Stephanie said, her voice rough with arousal. She rose from her knees, the purple vibrator still humming in her hand, coated with Barbara's arousal. "Not even close."
Barbara's eyes tracked Stephanie's movement as she circled around to stand beside Cassandra. The two of them exchanged a look—some wordless communication that Barbara's pleasure-fogged brain couldn't decipher. Then Cassandra's hands released Barbara's breasts and moved to her hips instead, fingers digging into flesh.
"On your knees," Stephanie instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Barbara's body obeyed before her mind could protest. She sank down onto the concrete rooftop, the hard surface biting into her kneecaps through the bunched fabric of her bodysuit. Her cape pooled around her, and she felt the cool night air against her exposed pussy, still sensitive and swollen from the orgasm.
Cassandra moved in front of her, positioning herself so Barbara's face was level with her exposed pussy. The black and yellow bodysuit framed the smooth skin, and Barbara could see how wet Cassandra was—arousal glistening on her inner thighs.
Stephanie knelt behind Barbara, her hands sliding along Barbara's hips to grip her ass cheeks. She spread them apart, exposing Barbara completely, and Barbara felt the vibrator press against her entrance again.
"You're going to eat her out while I fuck you," Stephanie said, pushing the toy back inside. Barbara's walls clenched around the intrusion, still sensitive from before. "And you're going to do a good job, or we're going to stop and leave you like this."
The threat sent a spike of panic through Barbara's chest. The idea of being left empty and aching was unbearable. She leaned forward, her hands gripping Cassandra's thighs for balance, and pressed her mouth against Cassandra's pussy.
The taste flooded her tongue—salt and musk and something uniquely Cassandra. Barbara's tongue moved on instinct, licking along the slit before finding the hard bud of her clit. Cassandra's fingers tangled in Barbara's ponytail, gripping tight enough to sting, and Barbara felt the slight tremor run through the younger woman's body.
Behind her, Stephanie began to move the vibrator. She pulled it out slowly before slamming it back in, the force making Barbara's entire body jerk forward. Her face pressed harder against Cassandra's pussy, and she had to adjust her grip on those slender thighs to keep from losing her balance.
The rhythm Stephanie established was brutal. Each thrust drove the vibrator deep, the vibrations reaching places inside Barbara that made her see stars. Her tongue worked frantically against Cassandra's clit, matching the pace, trying to give as much pleasure as she was receiving.
Cassandra's grip on her hair tightened, pulling Barbara's face harder against her. The pressure made breathing difficult, but Barbara didn't care. She sucked Cassandra's clit into her mouth, tongue flicking rapidly against the sensitive bud, and felt the legs beneath her hands begin to shake.
Stephanie's free hand came down hard on Barbara's ass—a sharp crack that echoed across the rooftop. The sting sent heat racing through Barbara's body, and her pussy clenched around the vibrator. Stephanie did it again, alternating cheeks, each slap punctuating a thrust of the toy.
"That's it," Stephanie growled. "Take it. Take it all."
Barbara moaned against Cassandra's pussy, the sound muffled and desperate. The vibrator hit something deep inside her—some spot that made her entire body convulse—and she had to fight to keep her mouth working on Cassandra's clit. Her jaw ached, her knees screamed against the concrete, but the pleasure overwhelmed everything else.
Cassandra's thighs clamped around Barbara's head suddenly, trapping her in place. Barbara felt the muscles contract, felt the flood of wetness against her tongue as Cassandra came. The grip on her hair became almost painful, holding Barbara's face pressed tight against that pulsing pussy while Cassandra rode out her orgasm.
The toy inside Barbara shifted. Stephanie pulled it out completely, leaving Barbara empty and clenching around nothing. Before she could protest, something larger pressed against her entrance—Cassandra's black toy, thicker and longer than the one that had just been inside her.
"My turn," Cassandra said, her voice barely above a whisper but carrying absolute authority. She'd moved somehow, trading places with Stephanie while Barbara's mind had been lost in pleasure.
The larger toy pushed inside, and the stretch made Barbara's back arch. It was almost too much—the girth forcing her walls to accommodate more than they wanted to. But Cassandra didn't stop. She worked it deeper, inch by inch, until Barbara felt impossibly full.
Stephanie positioned herself in front of Barbara now, spreading her legs to expose her pussy. The purple vibrator was in her hand again, and she brought it to her own entrance, pushing it inside with a soft moan. Her other hand gripped Barbara's hair, tilting her head up.
"Watch," Stephanie commanded. "Watch me fuck myself while Cass fucks you."
Barbara's eyes locked on the sight of that purple toy disappearing into Stephanie's pussy. The visual combined with Cassandra's steady thrusts behind her created a feedback loop of arousal that pushed Barbara toward another edge. She watched Stephanie's hand work the vibrator—pulling it out to show the slick coating of Barbara's arousal before sliding it back in, and Barbara felt her second orgasm building with terrifying speed.
Cassandra's rhythm never faltered. The black toy filled Barbara completely with each thrust, the curve hitting that spot inside her that made coherent thought impossible. Barbara's hands scrabbled against the concrete, trying to find purchase, trying to ground herself as pleasure built and built in her core.
"You look so good like this," Stephanie breathed, her own hips rolling as she worked the vibrator. "On your knees, getting fucked, watching me. This is what you needed, isn't it?"
Barbara couldn't answer. Her mouth hung open, gasping for air, and she watched through half-lidded eyes as Stephanie's pace increased. The blonde's small breasts bounced with each movement, visible beneath the bunched red tunic, and the wet sounds of the toy fucking her pussy mixed with the sounds coming from behind Barbara.
The orgasm hit Barbara without warning. Her pussy clenched around the thick toy, walls spasming as waves of pleasure crashed through her. She cried out—loud and desperate—her upper body collapsing forward until her forehead pressed against the concrete. Cassandra kept thrusting, working her through it, prolonging the sensation until Barbara's entire body shook.
Stephanie came next, her thighs clamping together around her own hand as her back arched. The purple vibrator stayed buried inside her, as a rush of warm wetness cascaded over Barbara' s flushed skin flung from Stephanie's flooded slit. Barbara watched through pleasure-hazed vision as Stephanie's mouth fell open in a silent scream.
Cassandra withdrew the toy slowly, and Barbara felt the emptiness like a physical loss. She slumped completely onto the concrete, her cape tangling around her legs, her bodysuit still hanging open to expose her thoroughly used body.
Cassandra pulled the black toy from her grip and held it up between them, the silicone glistening with Barbara's arousal. Stephanie still had the purple vibrator in her hand, and they exchanged another one of those wordless looks before turning their attention back to Barbara.
"Here," Stephanie said, pressing the purple toy into Barbara's hand. The vibrations hummed against her palm, and she felt the slick coating of her own wetness mixed with Stephanie's. "You're going to need these."
Cassandra placed the black toy beside Barbara on the concrete, then moved to face Stephanie. The two of them positioned themselves a few feet in front of Barbara, close enough that she could see every detail despite the haze still clouding her vision.
Stephanie sat down first, her legs spreading wide, her pussy was exposed and swollen, still glistening from her recent orgasm. Cassandra mirrored her position, sitting so their legs could interlock—right leg over Stephanie's left, left leg under Stephanie's right.
Barbara's breath caught as she watched them scoot closer, their bodies angling until their pussies pressed together. The first contact made both of them gasp—a sharp intake of breath that echoed across the rooftop. Then Stephanie's hips began to move, grinding against Cassandra in slow, deliberate circles.
The sight sent heat flooding through Barbara's core again. She'd just came twice, her body was exhausted, but watching Stephanie and Cassandra like this—their bodies moving together, the wet sounds of their pussies sliding against each other, the way their small breasts bounced with each thrust—made arousal spike through her with renewed intensity.
Her hand moved without conscious thought. She grabbed the black toy from beside her, the thick silicone still warm from being inside her moments ago. She spread her legs wider, her bodysuit hanging completely open, and pressed the tip against her entrance. The stretch as she pushed it inside made her gasp, but she didn't stop until it was fully seated.
The purple vibrator hummed in her other hand. Barbara brought it to her mouth, her tongue darting out to taste herself and Stephanie on the silicone. Salt and musk flooded her taste buds, and she wrapped her lips around the tip, sucking it deeper.
Stephanie's eyes locked on her through the mask. "Fuck, that's hot," she breathed, her hips grinding harder against Cassandra. "Look at her, Cass. Look at our girl."
Cassandra's dark eyes shifted to Barbara, and the intensity in that gaze made Barbara's pussy clench around the toy inside her. She began to work the black vibrator in and out, establishing a rhythm while she sucked on the purple one. The dual sensation—fullness in her pussy and the toy filling her mouth—created a feedback loop that had her right back on the edge.
The two women in front of her moved faster now. Stephanie's hand gripped Cassandra's thigh, holding her in place while their clits rubbed together. Cassandra's head fell back, exposing the long line of her throat, and soft sounds escaped her lips—barely audible but unmistakably pleasure.
Barbara's hand moved faster, fucking herself with the black toy while she deep-throated the purple one. She could see how wet they were getting, could see the way their arousal mixed and dripped onto the concrete beneath them. Stephanie's small breasts bounced with each thrust, nipples hard and flushed, and Cassandra's body trembled as she ground harder.
"God, Barbara," Stephanie moaned, her voice rough. "You look so desperate. So fucking needy."
Barbara whimpered around the toy in her mouth. She was desperate. The sight of them together, the sounds they made, the way their bodies moved—it consumed her completely. Her hips rolled, meeting each thrust of the toy, and she could feel another orgasm building despite having already come twice.
Cassandra's breathing grew ragged. Her hips stuttered, losing their rhythm, and then her entire body went rigid. Barbara watched her cum, watched the way her thighs clamped around Stephanie's leg, the way her mouth opened in a silent cry. The sight pushed Barbara closer to her own edge.
Stephanie wasn't far behind. She ground harder against Cassandra, her fingers digging into that pale thigh hard enough to leave marks. "Fuck, fuck, I'm—" The words cut off as she came, her body shaking, her pussy flooding with wetness that mixed with Cassandra's.
Barbara's orgasm crashed through her as she watched them fall apart. The toy in her pussy hit that spot deep inside, and her walls clenched around it as pleasure radiated through every nerve. She moaned around the vibrator in her mouth, the sound muffled and desperate, and her entire body convulsed.
When the waves finally subsided, Barbara collapsed onto her side, both toys slipping from her grasp. Her chest heaved as she gasped for air, and she could feel cum and arousal leaking from her thoroughly used pussy onto the concrete beneath her.
Stephanie and Cassandra untangled themselves slowly, their movements languid and satisfied. They crawled toward Barbara, positioning themselves on either side of her trembling body.
"Better?" Stephanie asked, her fingers tracing along Barbara's exposed stomach.
Barbara couldn't form words. Her brain felt like it had been scrambled, her body completely wrung out. But the tension that had been coiled in her chest for months was gone, replaced by a bone-deep satisfaction that made everything else seem insignificant as she nodded.
Cassandra's hand cupped Barbara's face, turning her head gently. Those dark eyes studied her with concern mixed with satisfaction. "Good," Cassandra said softly. "Very good."
"We can't tell Batman about this," Stephanie said suddenly, propping herself up on one elbow to look down at Barbara. Her blonde hair was disheveled, sticking up at odd angles, and her mask sat slightly crooked on her face. "Like, seriously. We absolutely cannot let him find out we just fucked on patrol."
Barbara felt a laugh bubble up from somewhere deep in her chest—exhausted and slightly hysterical. The sound escaped before she could stop it, echoing across the rooftop set. "He probably already knows," she managed, her voice hoarse as her head fell back.
"CUT"
"That's a wrap!" Valentino's voice cracked through the studio speakers, the words slurring together at the edges. He waved one hand in a vague gesture that might have been dismissive or might have just been his coordination failing. "Everyone—everyone good. Great. Fucking spectacular."
The cocaine high was crashing. Valentino could feel it draining from his system like water through a sieve—the artificial energy that had sustained him through the shoot evaporating and leaving behind exhaustion that hit twice as hard. His limbs felt like lead. His wings drooped against the back of his chair. Even keeping his eyes open required effort that his body no longer wanted to expend.
The three performers—Barbara, Stephanie, Cassandra—were being herded off set by crew members, their bodies still flushed and trembling from exertion. Someone was handing them robes. Someone else was probably scheduling their next shoots. Valentino should care about that. Should be coordinating. Should be—
"Who the fuck is Batman?" Velvet's voice cut through the fog pressing against his skull.
Valentino turned his head toward her, the movement taking far more effort than it should have. She stood with her arms crossed beneath her breasts, one hip cocked, her expression caught between curiosity and irritation. Batman. Right. The footage had mentioned Batman. Some vigilante from wherever dimension he'd pulled these three from.
He shrugged, his shoulders lifting and falling in uncoordinated sequence. "Some guy. Don't worry about it." The words came out thick, his tongue feeling too large for his mouth. "Not important. What's important is the content. Did you see—did you see how good that was?"
"I saw three women fuck each other on a rooftop set," Velvet said dryly. "Very groundbreaking."
"It's not about—" Valentino's train of thought derailed somewhere between his brain and his mouth. The studio lights were too bright. Everything was too bright. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and keeping his spine straight in the chair required concentration he no longer possessed. "It's about the aesthetic. The costumes. The—fuck, I need to sit down."
"You are sitting down," Velvet pointed out.
"Then I need to lie down." Valentino slumped forward, his upper arms bracing against his knees while his lower hands gripped the chair's armrests. The world tilted slightly, and he had to close his eyes against the wave of dizziness that crashed over him. "Just—give me a minute. Just one minute and I'll—"
"No." Velvet's stilettos clicked as she moved closer. "You're not getting a minute. You're going to bed before you pass out and crack your skull open on our nice marble floors."
"My floor," Valentino muttered, but the correction lacked any real heat. His body had started the process of shutting down whether he wanted it to or not. Muscles went slack. His wings drooped until the tips brushed the floor. Even the effort of holding his head up became too much, and it lolled forward until his chin hit his chest.
Velvet's voice rose, sharp and commanding. "You two! Interns! Get your asses over here!"
Footsteps approached—multiple sets, hesitant and nervous. Valentino cracked one eye open and saw two imp demons standing a few feet away, their expressions caught between terror and confusion.
"Pissbaby needs to get to his penthouse," Velvet said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "You're going to carry him. Carefully. If you drop him, I will personally ensure you spend the rest of your existence scrubbing toilets in the Wrath Ring."
"But he's—he's huge," one of the interns stammered, his eyes traveling up Valentino's ten-foot frame with obvious dismay. "We can't—"
"Figure it out," Velvet snapped. "Now."
The interns exchanged panicked looks before moving to flank Valentino's chair. They each grabbed an arm—one upper, one lower—and began the process of hauling him to his feet. Valentino's body moved with all the grace of a sack of potatoes, his legs barely cooperating as they tried to support his weight.
"No," Valentino mumbled, the word slurred and pathetic even to his own ears. "Don't wanna. Got work. The business doesn't build itself."
"It will all be here tomorrow," Velvet said, her voice taking on that particular tone she used when dealing with his bullshit. "You're going to sleep."
"Not tired." The lie was so transparent it barely qualified as one. Valentino's eyelids kept trying to close on their own, and his head kept dropping forward no matter how hard he tried to hold it up. "Just need—need another line. Just one more and I'll be—"
"Absolutely fucking not." Velvet stepped directly into his line of sight, forcing him to focus on her face. "You're crashing, Val. Hard. And you're going to sleep it off like an adult instead of doing more blow and ending up in the hospital."
The interns had managed to get him upright, though "upright" was generous. His weight sagged between them, and his wings dragged on the floor as they began the slow, awkward process of moving him toward the studio exit. Each step required coordination that his exhausted body couldn't quite manage, and more than once his knees buckled and nearly sent all three of them crashing to the ground.
Well Velvet thought at least that would knock him out.