Tits & Bast

Black Cat landed in a crouch. "Liberal do-gooder. You gonna save the rainforest too, or is that your girlfriend's thing?"

"Ivy'snot my girlfriend," Selina protested. The woman wasgreen, for Christ's sake. "You spoiled rich girl thrillseeker. Why can't you just date George Clooney, like a normal slag?"

"I've tried! He's booked solid to February!" Black Cat lowered herself to all fours, rocking on her haunches, clicking her claws on the tile. Clearly readying herself for another lunge. "Sure you don't want to scat, cat? I'm not just any gorgeous villainess. I've gotten some...enhancements."

Selina glanced at her breasts. "Clearly."

And that got Black Cat's teeth bared in a feral grin. "They're real!" she cried as she pounced on Selina, moving fast enough to crack the floor behind her.

She slammed into Selina, even though the latter had prepared for it. They crashed to the ground with Black Cat on top, her arms and legs pinning Selina down.

"Maybe if I carve my plastic surgeon's number on your fat ass, people will believe me."

"Maybe if you didn't have a plastic surgeon, people would believe you."

"I'm a crimefighter. I get hurt and I don't want to walk around looking like Mike Tyson. Sue me."

"I have a better idea," Selina said, and kissed Black Cat full on the lips.

As it turned out, that wasn't the better idea.

The better idea had been for the lipstick that Poison Ivy had given her to take effect, knock Black Cat's ass out, and leave her for the guards to find. Then, Selina could go back to Gotham, where shenever had to worry about someone else stepping on her score unless it had to do with Lewis Carroll, the circus, the number two, plants, fear, movies, riddles, or Lazarus Pits.

It was good stuff, that Ivy-brand lipstick. Selina had used it plenty of times as a last resort. Show a guard a little skin, lock lips with him, problem solved. Not very feminist of her, perhaps, but damn handy.

The only problem was that Black Cat wasn't falling unconscious. The only effect the kiss had was to give her a great big smile.

"Well, if that's the way you want to play it..." Black Cat trailed off meaningfully, before kissing her so hard that the back of Selina's head smacked against the tile.

***

Felicia hadn't even been trying to seduce the crazy bitch. But if her usual game was to seduce Spider-Man, a guy so neurotic that he had sex with his mask on, then apparently she could land a simple dominatrix in her sleep.

***

Selina was surprised to find herself breathless.

Funny. It was a move she herself had used more than once before. But she tended to be assertive, forceful. Bats and his kind seemed to respect that; and even a boy scout like Captain Marvel liked a woman who could kick his ass, or at least kissed like it. But while Black Cat was energetic, she was also... soft. Skillful. Passionate. Like them trying to kick the crap out of each other had been as much foreplay as dinner and a movie.

Selina felt her body responding. Not to the intensity of Black Cat's advances, but to the desire behind them. Her nipples stung with hardness and she moistened between the legs, even moaning slightly as Black Cat continued to devour her mouth.

Then, Black Cat stopped, burying her wicked smile in Selina's neck as she flashed her steel-tipped claws.

Selina had a moment of panic, but her body was still floundering in the wake of Black Cat's sheer need. She could only gasp as Black Cat brought those claws down, into Selina's shoulders—but not with any force.

Instead, the points just cut into the first layer of Kevlar woven into her leather.

Chuckling darkly to herself, Black Cat pulled her claws down Selina's body. They didn't cut through Selina's body armor, but Selina still felt the slightest prick of their sharpness, the most exquisite pain as they skirted her skin.

Let's face it, Selina, she thought, you didn't get into the dominatrix game just for the fashion.

***

Felicia smiled to herself as Catwoman arched her body into the claws, especially whenever they traveled over her well-sized breasts. The Scratching Post. Bitches loved the Scratching Post. Even Peter had loved it, almost as much as he'd loved complaining about how she left his red and blue in tatters and his skin covered with weird white lines. But back when he'd had that black costume that showed off his ass like a glass case at Zales...

Good times. Felicia moved her hands to Catwoman's sides, clicking her tongue as she left her little love marks on Catwoman's hips and ass. Then, she brought one slender finger up to push Catwoman's ridiculous goggles up the bridge of her nose and over her forehead.

Without those things, at least Catwoman wouldn't get kicked off Craigslist for promoting bestiality. In fact, she looked great with her skin all flushed and her lips all swollen. Not that it was easy to tell with that dusky skin. Maybe the girl had some chocolate in her milk; that would explain a lot.

And they called her Black Cat...

Felicia kissed Catwoman a few more times than she usually did, just because it was so much fun to shut her up. Then, with Catwoman assured that this would be more sex than violence, she let her claws trail down the lines of Catwoman's face.

The way Catwoman shuddered was just—magnetic. Felicia ran her tongue from Catwoman's chin to that quirked eyebrow—classic cat move—before hooking her claw in the oversized D-ring of Catwoman's zipper. She pulled it down as she shimmied along Catwoman's body like it was a pole, examining the café au lait skin as she went along. It had enough scars to explain why Catwoman wasn't making bank as a lingerie model, but that was Gotham for you.

Felicia kissed a few of them, but not the way she'd used to when she'd played nurse for Peter's scars. No time.

The zipper, thankfully, ran down to Catwoman's crotch. Felicia got it to Catwoman's navel, lapped daintily at that cute little belly button, and then yanked the zipper all the way to the end of the line. The leather parted, revealing panties with a familiar cartoon character on them.

"Hello kitty," Felicia said portentously.

"I live with a gay former prostitute. She does the clothes-shopping."

"Kinky." Felicia drew her forefinger under the waistband of the underwear, snipping it with her claw. "Still, doubt you'd mind if you needed a new pair when you got home."

Catwoman took in a sharp breath when she felt Felicia skewering the crotch of her panties, only to feel the younger woman gently lift it off her pussy. Felicia had always prided herself on knowing how a woman tended her business, and Catwoman was no exception. Neatly trimmed with a classic landing strip—not a Brazilian wax, like Felicia had. And wet, of course. When Felicia was close enough to do a thorough examination of a woman's labia, it tended to be.

"Time for this cat to get the cream," Felicia said before she went to work, hearing a disgruntled sigh from Catwoman before all sound was lost in the muffle of those leather-clad thighs.

***

Oh fuck, Selina thought, and said, and possibly tasted, judging by the increasingly smug sounds of hunger coming from the woman between her legs. Black Cat really was good at this. Selina doubted she should be surprised, judging by Black Cat's... everything, but so many people in the business were all tell, no show (who would've guessed, for instance, that Green Arrow was packing a dart in his quiver?).

But in half a second, she couldn't think of men at all. Her legs steepled, knees jumping up in the air, balls of her feet pressing flat to the tile, the muscles of her thighs stretching to their capable limit. She was spreading her legs as far apart as possible, making room for all the pleasure that Black Cat could stuff inside.

And Black Cat didn't disappoint. She licked so quickly and so well that Selina barely felt the individual strokes of her tongue, just a continuous pleasure that throbbed and grew. It stole from Selina—not her heart, certainly, but something almost as precious.

Control.

Selina could feel her muscles tensing up involuntarily, and almost as soon as she resented that fact, she learned to live with it. She was just going along with this to get Black Cat to drop her guard. As soon as she did, the bitch was going to be left with a ringing headache and no Statuette.

Black Cat would probably drop her guard after Selina came. At least once.

Shit, if she kept giving head like this, Selina might even forgive her that dumb cream joke.

***

Those leather-clad thighs were surprisingly cool against Felicia's cheeks, while the rest of Felicia's body felt overwarm, trapped inside a too-tight suit. So Felicia pulled her own zipper down as far as it would go. Unlike Catwoman's, it only went to her midriff, but Felicia didn't think she'd be any less sweaty if she'd been bare-ass naked.

Continuing to tongue Catwoman—though more ladling her juices into her own waiting mouth than trying to please her—Felicia reached up to draw the two halves of Catwoman's costume apart. Catwoman's breasts practically sprang out.

Felicia revised her opinion of Catwoman's body, now that it was no longer confined by tight leather. Though Catwoman's breasts weren't as big as Felicia's—a C-cup instead of double Ds—they were pert and well-formed, with small, brownish nipples topping them. Felicia made a beeline for those, trapping the already-hard pebbles between her claws and carefully drilling into them as she ate Catwoman out.

Judging by the growing moans, Catwoman felt far more pleasure than pain.

Felicia rested her tongue for a moment, proudly looking at the blood-red plume of Catwoman's labia, aroused and swollen from her efforts. She breathed in the deep scent of a woman—familiar, but always different—and eyed the intriguing hardness of Catwoman's little clit. A second later, she put a love bite on Catwoman's pelvis that just missed it—more pain to mix with Catwoman's pleasure— and then returned to the cunt, losing herself in sweet frenzy.

Felicia always loved this part, where artifice and seduction fell away and it was all instinct: what she'd been born with, and the empathic knowledge of how to please.

Not that she didn't like strutting around in high heels and deciding just how much cleavage to show and which perfume to use and what syllable to purr on just so. But that was all such work. And sex shouldn't be work. Not all the time. At times like these, she could just let her tongue do what it wanted and enjoy the ride. Enjoy the show.

Catwoman certainly didn't have any complaints, not that Felicia expected her to. When Felicia drew the older woman's clit into her mouth, sucking it like hard candy, the outright gasp that Catwoman expelled from her lungs came as no surprise.

"Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me."

Catwoman was saying it softly, breathily. Not for effect, but just because that was how it slipped from her brain and hit her tongue. Was she even conscious of talking, or was it like a baby crying for its mommy, knowing only that the sounds would lead to its needs being met?

The older woman's hips were pumping now, her leather-bound ass slapping on the tile like she was being fucked by a prick instead of a tongue. Felicia followed that cunt down and back up. Enjoying the ride.

Until Catwoman's body spiked, carrying Felicia up to her knees. Felicia's claws slipped from Catwoman's nipples, leaving furrowed scarlet trails down the undersides of the older woman's breasts. But Catwoman either didn't notice, or quite liked it.

Catwoman's body was now showing off its incredible athleticism, with only the shoulder blades and toes remaining on the floor. The rest followed the wet flesh that demanded Felicia's mouth, suffocating her in scent and taste enough for her to remember the Feline Fatale for the rest of her days.

And Felicia did all she could to fulfill Catwoman's demand. She wanted her to remember the Black Cat for the rest of her life. Remember being fucked. Remember being stolen from. Remember that she could have Gotham, but that the rest of the world belonged to Felicia Hardy.

The touch of Felicia's own silken catsuit began to feel teasing rather than reassuring. Her chest heaved enough for the teeth of her zipper to gnash her skin. Her panties stuck to her mound, warm and sodden. As soon as she'd proven herself to Catwoman, she promised herself, the old hag would be returning the favor.

Those were Felicia's plans. The thought of stopping her delirious consumption of Catwoman—even to make Catwoman tend to her growing lust—did not occur to her.

***

It hadn't even occurred to Selina that she was competing with Black Cat, much less that her all-important independence had given way to a burning need for Black Cat to keep doing everything she was doing. In fact, not much of anything was occurring to Selina. She tended to not be a deep thinker when she came.

But when her mouth fell open and she heard her own scream fill the room (the yowl was downright catlike, she would've been pleased to note in any other setting), reality came rushing in. Her body was marked, in multiple places, with stinging cat-scratches. She was half-naked. Her costume had lines of frayed thread and rent leather all over it. God knew what had become of her goggles—

Oh, yeah, they were on her head.

Selina looked around to see if anyone had heard. And more importantly, if this was a good time to bash what little there was of Black Cat's brains in.

But both her thoughts and her sight were quickly eclipsed by Black Cat's perfectly rounded ass. Black Cat had swung herself around in a millisecond like an Olympian on a pommel horse, ending up on her hands and knees directly above Selina, but now facing the opposite direction.

Selina couldn't complain. While Black Cat's face was no chore to look at (aside from every facial expression Selina had seen on her, which were more annoying than your average Arkham break-out), her ass was simply heavenly. Plump enough to be desirable, but still firm and understated. Selina was actually a little jealous on behalf of her own boyishly flat backside; the price of being able to jump off twenty rooftops a night. Who was Black Cat training with that she could run a four-minute mile and still have an ass as soft as a pillow? Fucking Black Canary?

"There's a zipper," Black Cat said. Selina shivered as the words landed right against her oversensitive clit. "Right where you think there is."

Selina saw the thing, cleverly concealed in the seemingly unbroken black lycra. "Of course there is."

"Unzip me," Black Cat cooed. "And join the party."

Selina did. Of course, Black Cat had one of those infantile waxes, like it wasn't clear enough that she was young.

Then Selina raised her head, but Black Cat scooted her ass up out of reach, and then chuckled to herself as she lowered it back down. Selina waited patiently until it came down on her face. Then, she stuck out her tongue. Then, she tasted Black Cat.

As she kept reminding herself, she was only going along with this until she had a chance to teach Black Cat a lesson, and that lesson was going to come any minute now. Any minute...

***

Catwoman's 'cream' turned out to be an acquired taste that Felicia was acquiring very quickly. When she came up for air, it was dripping from her mouth like lazily-applied lipstick. She wiped her chin on her glove, which had absorbed far worse, and then reseated herself to press even more tightly against Catwoman. Now, she was nuzzling the other woman's sex, stroking it with her withdrawn claws and mirroring Catwoman's oral caress on her own sex.

In turn, she heard Catwoman's claws came out—a more intimidating sound than her own stealthy click—and felt them dig through the bottom of her catsuit, drawing blood from the firm cheeks of her ass.

Felicia winced; though it stopped short of really hurting her, it stung like hell. And felt just dangerous enough to be a damn good bit of fun.

In seconds, they'd squirmed closer together, with Catwoman on her back and Felicia hunched over her, riding her. Felicia worked her breasts out of the loving tightness of her suit and rubbed them on the cruelly cold leather over Catwoman's stomach, feeling her over-sensitive nipples rebelling with pleasure.

Felicia wondered if Catwoman could feel her nipples through all that body armor. She definitely felt Felicia's tongue dipping affectionately into her splayed cunt. The claws in Felicia's ass twinged, adding more spice to the pleasure coming from the tongue slithering into her pussy, not to mention the hungry lips satiating themselves on her swollen clit.

They writhed together like they were trying to generate heat, groaning both loud and soft, with need followed by fulfillment. An orgasm welded their bodies together; it seemed like they were so close together that the climax had directly spread from one to the other. Felicia couldn't even tell who had gone first.

She got smug. Drew her hand over the smooth leather across Catwoman's ass, brought her hand up, slapped it back down with resounding force. "I know you love it, cat-bitch."

***

"Cat-bitch?" Selina repeated, like it was a word in another language. Maybe to Black Cat, she sounded amused.

In a heartbeat, she'd flipped them over so that she was on top, one hand on Black Cat's foot and the other on the stupid fur trim over Black Cat's leg. She twisted the ankle painfully, making Black Cat howl.

This time, it was Selina's body muffling her mouth.

"Lick," Selina ordered, twisting Black Cat's leg a few more degrees in case the younger woman thought of not complying.

She then eased it back to a painless position as she felt Black Cat's arms and hands encircling her hips, clasping her ass, pulling her pussy down to where they both needed it.

"Good kitty."

Felicia regrouped. She wasn't beaten yet. She loved it when sex got like this. A fight for dominance, instead of mutual surrender. Back when Peter had worn the black, it'd been like this a lot. She'd even let him win a few times.

But lose to Catwoman? No. But she could let Catwoman think that she was going to win. For a little while. A very little while.

She kissed soothingly along Catwoman's exposed skin, tasting the sweat and wet leather at the same time. Teasing Catwoman more than pleasing her. And then she spread her legs wide and clenched the muscles of her thighs in turn, stimulating herself, broadcasting her arousal to all of Catwoman's senses.

"Don't you want it?" she asked, her lips smearing against Catwoman's sex but never quite kissing it. "Doesn't it smell good? Isn't it close enough? Can't you just taste it?" Her hands streaked up the smooth leather of Catwoman's back, urging Catwoman down.

Felicia felt Catwoman's breaths lift her hands. Fast and hard. Then, the older woman gave in.

Catwoman's head dropped down between Felicia's knees, every feature disappearing from Felicia's view save for a bobbing pair of cat ears. Felicia felt hands caressing her legs, her hips, her thighs, her sides. They found their way under Felicia's body and squeezed her ass, stirring up pain in the little claw marks that Catwoman had left. Literally threatening pleasure.

Felicia wasn't intimidated, but she was also just as hungry as Catwoman was. When Catwoman forcefully brought her hips down, Felicia obligingly lifted her head and opened her mouth. Catwoman's labia fit into it like a hand to a glove.

There was nothing then for Felicia but a sea of flesh: warm, welcoming, and sweet. The leather was like an oil slick atop it. She moved it out of the way as best as she could, delighting in her "drowning". Then Catwoman found her clitoris, and open air became a distant memory.