They had breakfast in bed. As the soup cooled, Platinum tried riding Ted. When that proved not so good for his hips, they did it the other way, and Ted managed another cum inside her. Then, both her ports equally tainted, Platinum left him to enjoy his soup. She said Dr. Magnus would notice she was gone soon and that she had to get back. Before she left, she asked if she could wash up. Ted agreed, and she began unscrewing her groin from her chassis.
The soup was good, though.
Finally, Ted was left alone, naked and dirty with dried cum atop the sheets of his bed. He felt too wired to sleep, too tired to move.
"Well, that was quite the performance. I'd give you a standing ovation, but—"
That voice was as familiar as a voice could be without Ted being able to place it. He raised his head, craning his neck to the shadows, and saw the seated redhead with the smart haircut, the wire-rim glasses, and the wheelchair. Now he knew her.
Barbara Gordon had not gone to seed at all since the injury that cost her a career as Batgirl. She prided herself on staking a claim in her own life, and part of that was pushing herself just as hard as she had when she had her legs. With all the weapons she had stowed in her chair, Ted wouldn't face off against her. Even bare-handed, he wouldn't put money on the outcome.
Her intelligence was more captivating than looks could ever be. And though dressed down in a pair of slacks and a comfortable looking sweater, her looks were none too shabby either. She was a slender woman, with blazing red hair and equally vivid green eyes. Her hips were narrow and her breasts were modest, but that just kept them from overwhelming the simple, elegant beauty of her features.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "How were you even here without Platinum noticing you!?"
"I'm a Bat. Some things you don't forget."
"She's a robot!"
"
I'm a Bat,"
she reiterated. "Which reminds me—planning to hit a home run with that thing, Kord?"
He was so drawn in by the sight of that lovely face, most especially when framed by those librarian glasses, that it took Ted a second to remember his nudity. He tried to pull the covers over him, but he was lying on them. He had to settle for drawing them up in a screen between himself and Babs.
"Barbara," he said, dry-mouthed. "Now's not a good time..."
"Oh, I'd say it's the perfect time." Barbara peeled off her sweater. Underneath, her tanktop fit to her bust like a second skin, and bared the impressive biceps left behind by Batman's training. "You're naked—we're alone—sounds like one of our own cybering sessions."
"I thought we were doing that ironically," Ted protested weakly. "I didn't even send you any nudes!"
"I'm Oracle. If I wanted to know what you looked like naked, I'd know. Case in point..." She rolled closer, next to his bed, so close that if she strained, she could see over the sheet he was pulling almost to the point of ripping. "Do you want to do it through the sheet? Seems a little orthodox for your tastes."
"You cannot tell me you flew all the way out here to have sex with me."
"I own a private jet. What else do you want me to do with it?"
"Fight crime?"
"That got old. Dinah and Helena are off getting dick—or Dick, maybe. Zinda is practicing her hangover. I need some cock. And I don't know if you've noticed, but a Sybian is a little impractical in my present condition."
Ted gave her a tired grin. Considering how kinky their cybering had gotten, this was actually pretty conventional. "So what do you have in mind?"
