Justice League 87

JUSTICE LEAGUE '87

by kentonbrownsuperstoner

A dark night, no moon. A grand skyline of stone and spire and steel. A vast urban center, stretching out menacingly towards the horizon. This can only be one place...

Gotham City!

The working clocks on those spire towers of stone and brick show that it is very late indeed. Hours after midnight.

Down below, on one of those dark and textured rooftops, something out of the ordinary even for Gotham City is happening...

Black Canary gripped the heavy steel utility piping, so common on rooftops in this city, she noted. Her black tactical gloves let her hold on to the pipes with confidence, gripping tight and feeling no heat or cold. Canary gripped tight as she could, she knew she was going to need to hold on for all she had.

Even though the foreplay left her dripping wet. She knew, she needed to brace herself for what he was going to do next.

She felt his gauntleted hands lowering the bottoms of her tactical uniform. Once Canary undid her tactical belt and turned around, and bent over for him, this final undressing of her sex was a formality, the mere unwrapping of a present.

She did not wear panties under her costume.

Batman lowered her bottoms just enough, just to the tops of her thighs. Dinah Laurel felt the cool Gotham air on her cunt, feeling not like a super heroine for one solitary second, until she felt Batman pushing her to her limits once again.

Transcribing the precise sound the songbird superheroine made as Batman penetrated her, stretching her and taking her deep in his very first thrust, making her cry out a mumble of sounds and feeling, some good, some painful, would be impossible.

Luckily for Batman, his POV recorders were fully operational, and when he watched the footage later, he could decide then what Dinah blurted out on feeling him make his return to her tight canary cage.

Ms. Dinah Laurel Lance, the Black Canary, felt pleasure and pain at the penetration, and the remembrance: "this is how it is with him. This is how it was last time, and the time before, on the rooftops of Gotham. He goes all the way on the first stroke, and, wow, does he go ALL the way!"

Batman's POV recorders capture the way his Justice League colleague arches her back as he enters her. As usual, Batman is all silence and contemplation and feeling. He is feeling every inch of her opening up for him. Familiar, but, it has been so long since he's been inside her, so long since he's had any kind of release, that the easy blonde lay feels tight and fresh and oh, so, very good.

"Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck," Dinah Laurel thinks, remembering and feeling him afresh. Batman is not the last one inside her, but "oh fuck! Blue Beetle, Flash, and Captain Marvel do not give it to a girl like this!"

Dinah grips the utility pipes hard as she feels Batman gripping her bare and naked hips and pulling her into him, holding her so he can open up the deeper, wider places inside her and work himself all the way in.

"Oh fuck!" Black Canary says out loud. Batman say nothing, but she finally feels him push all the way into her, and she says "oh fuck" again as he taps her cervix and she feels his hips through his armored costume against her bare ass. She can see in her mind how he must look fucking her, fully dressed while she's bent over and bared, her pale pert ass lifted higher than her blonde head, Batman's cock buried inside her pink superheroine folds.

"Looking like some cosplaying slut getting laid after a Halloween party," Dinah Laurel thinks, loving the contrast from her superhero dayjob. "Batman fucks me like a tramp and no wonder I keep coming back for more!" she thinks as her eyes start rolling back in her head. The dick is just too good. "Thank god no one is watching or recording this," Black Canary thinks, utterly unaware of the capabilities of Batman's suit.

At just that moment, Alfred Pennyworth is cleaning the main console in Master Bruce's Bat Cave. "The only time I can get some of the dust and the coffee spills up is while Master Bruce is out on patrol at night," Alfred thinks. As he sprays some compressed air to clean between the keys and joints of the console, Alfred notices that one monitor is on, the live-feed from Master Bruce's POV cameras in his Bat Suit.

"Oh, my!" Alfred thinks, and the old man blushes and immediately turns away out of deepest decency. A beat, and then he turns back. "She looks familiar," he thinks, and then it comes to him. "Black Canary! Oh, my, good show, Master Bruce!"

With a big smile on his face, Alfred turns away from the monitor, resuming his cleaning of the Bat Cave's other surfaces.

Back on the rooftops of Gotham...

His big hands holding her in place, Black Canary yields and submits and lets herself be taken by the Dark Knight.

His pace is fast and hard. She's an animal and he's fucking her like she's a animal. He's not fucking her for her, not fucking her for her pleasure, he's fucking her for his pleasure, and his pleasure and his need only. Taking her cunt like she's not a selfless super hero. Taking her cunt like she's a sex toy.

Black Canary feels like a sexy toy, like Batman's sex toy, and that feeling makes her feel better than she thought it would, when she booked her flight as Dinah Laurel from Star City to Gotham.

"You came here for this," Batman growls at her in a low voice.

"Y-yes," Dinah responds.

"You came here for this," he growls again.

"I came here for this," Black Canary says. "I came here for this."

"You slut. You whore."

It stings coming from him, but she loves hearing these forbidden words from her Justice League teammate.

"You easy lay. You blonde slut. You whore." His low tone is rough and vicious.

Dinah is surprised to feel herself getting wetter as his words make her stomach twist.

"No one talks to me like that!" she blurts out. Stating a fact, not arguing a point.

"No one other than me, you mean."

"Oh!"

"You came here for this." The sexy, nasty growl.

In her mind: "The tone the bad guys hear, he's using that on me while his huge dick is inside me! Why does this make me melt so?" Black Canary thinks, loving every minute of her erotic confusion.

"Take what you came for, whore. Get fucked on a rooftop for the whole city to see." Sexy, nasty, hot. So hot it heated up something in her that was dying to boil over.

"What does that make you, fucking a whore on a rooftop, huh? You like fucking whores? You take all your whores up here?" Her tone was hot, firm, challenging him, like an equal colleague in the Justice League, like the equal colleague Black Canary was.

"You slut, you came here for this," Batman responds.

"I love fucking, you chauvinist! This is the eighties and I'm a modern eighties woman! And I love fucking!" Black Canary fires back, her tone as rough as his.

"Oh fuck," Batman says now, not growling. "You slut," he growls at her. Pounding her hard, never letting his cock slip out of her.

"You love fucking me," Black Canary growls at him now, "you love fucking this blonde slut on a rooftop like a whore. You like fucking whores, Batman? You fuck a lot of whores on rooftops, Batman?"

"Oh, fuck. Canary...You came here for this."

"I came here for this. Just like the last time. And the time before that."

"Oh, fuck!"

"I keep coming back to Gotham to fuck you. And the times that I'm not here? Huh, Batman? I'm fucking someone else. I'm off fucking lots of someone elses."

"Oh, fuck, Canary!" Part growl, part vulnerable, but all orgasmic.

Batman buries himself to the hilt inside Black Canary as she pushes him far over the edge into the bliss he often denies himself. Batman knows it has been weeks since his balls emptied, and as they empty into her, he wonders how many balls have emptied into Dinah Laurel's tight and tasty cunt in that time. He knows he could find out, but as he comes in his favorite Justice League teammate, he knows he does not want to know. Being a detective has its limits.

It has been months since Dinah Laurel last came to Gotham seeking cock, and seeking a very, special, particular cock to satisfy her modern, eighties-woman's needs. She did not need to tell Batman that his was her favorite cock, and the one she always wanted more of. But he had left her plenty of time to think about him, about why he did not surprise her with a visit to Star City to get more of the intimacy she was making so easy and available for him. She knew she had no idea what his secret identity might be, if he even had a secret identify, but she was pretty sure Batman knew hers, and if he wanted more intimacy with her, if he wanted more loving and fucking and access to any part of her body or her heart that he wanted, Dinah Laurel was pretty sure she would let him have it. He was Batman. All the things she heard about him before she met him, turned out to be true.

But it was painful that he did not want it, did not want her, did not want her body, did not want her wet, hot cunt, did not want her giving, gagging mouth and throat; not even for a quickie on a Star City rooftop with Black Canary, not even for a long fuck-session in Dinah Laurel's luxury apartment, two-person shower and deep-soaking tub.

And so he only had himself to blame, she reasoned, for giving her all that time to think about the little ways she could give some of that emotional pain back to him.

She suspected pain and pleasure might work together for Batman, as it did for her. The pain of his big cock, her pain of not really being big enough inside to accommodate him at his fullest, but her overwhelming desire to try, try, try. Again and again.

She knew in her heart of hearts that the dirty talk would push him over the edge, and those spasms of his cock creaming her, kept hitting her spot inside at just the right frequency and angle and rhythm to send Dinah Laurel, the Black Canary, over the edge as well! His cock so deep inside her, his hands holding her hips in place, holding her impaled to the hilt on his penis, blasting his cum right through her cum-hungry cervix, weeks of his cum flooding the superheroine's womb.

Receiving Batman's cum and coming herself, Dinah Laurel loses control over her Black Canary powers.

She can't help herself. And if she could think, she would think that this is why Batman keeps fucking her doggy style on these rooftop encounters. So her face and mouth point away from him, because this happens every time.

Batman fucks that orgasm into her, and her body explodes, her pussy goes into spasm and she cries out, her Canary Cry! Blasting overwhelming sonic power across the rooftop and into the city night!

Dinah Laurel has no track of time, no control over herself, she is completely free, completely inside her Power, at once with her body and her Powers, in this highly altered state that Batman keeps fucking her into, and that she keeps needing more and more of. When she comes like this, exploding her cunt and her vocal powers, there is no difference between Dinah Laurel and Black Canary, they are finally one and the same woman for these brief, orgasmic moments in time.

Sometimes this happens with the Flash, sweet Wally West, but never with sweet Ted Kord, the Blue Beetle, who did give her a great vibrator that he invented for her. But Captain Marvel finishes so fast, Dinah mostly has him give her oral with some fingers inside and she has some nice ones, then.

But only Batman sets her off into a cum that brings out a Canary Cry.

From his position, behind and inside her, Batman only receives the noise and the sonic spray. The audio receptors in his cowl have been adapted and programmed to withstand this sonic power of Dinah's, but they've never been tested by a full blast to the face. Even from behind her, they still fuzz-out the slightest bit, so strong is her sonic power. So strong were the spasms of her cunt on his cock as she came.

Back in the Bat Cave, the feedback that comes over the cowl's POV-cam live-feed sends out a buzzing noise that makes Alfred look up from where he's cleaning the laboratory equipment in the lab section. But when he checks the live-feed monitor for just a second, it seems to be normal again, there's picture and movement and he looks away, decency prevailing.

But on that rooftop, where that live-feed is being made...

Just as Black Canary had to withstand the force and thickness of his entry into her, Batman has to withstand the deafening power of her orgasm around him. He holds her tight by her hips and rides it out. He has just come inside her, he feels her loving their sex and feels like... maybe... maybe...maybe. This one. This beautiful, sexual blonde. What if she's the one? What if she's not an easy groupie slut, horny for whomever is in the Batman suit? What if she's the right one? She fucks like the right one. She fucks so cheap and easy.

He knows she does not know he is Bruce Wayne. He likes that she only knows him as Batman. But if she were the one, she would be smarter and more cunning, she would have already found out his secret identify. Bruce feels her and smells her and knows that he loves her, just the tiniest bit, but not enough to show, and wishes she wasn't just a horny blonde slut, who loved to fight and who loved to fuck. Wishes she was a woman of more substance, like Selena, or Vicki, or Talia.

Ah, well.

Dinah feels the last of the orgasmic waves roll through her, and when she comes back to herself, the city feels quiet again. It's only night, and the rooftop, and his big hands on her hips, and his big stiffness pulling out of her.

"Oh. No. Sad," she thinks.

She feels the Gotham night air on her swollen lips of her cum-filled cunt, and then Batman is pulling up her pants, cinching them back to her uniform top, clicking her gear belt closed as he re-does the clasp of her utility belt. Dressing her like a child, easily and quickly. She lets him, loving this last act of caring she knows he will do for her tonight, for her whole trip to Gotham.

"That was nice," he growls. "Plans while you're in town?"

"I might go to some museums tomorrow. Gotham Museum has a new exhibition I wanted to check out. Wanna join me?"

He considers. "Maybe another time."

She frowns, then smiles. "That's okay. As you know, I already got what I came for." She studies him for his reaction. So emotionless behind that cowl. "You know, you can always visit me in Star City. We have rooftops, too."

"I'll consider it, Dinah."

She giggles. "And Dinah Lauren has a king-sized bed. You're welcome there, too. There's even a window and a balcony you could swing in through."

"I need to get back on patrol."

"Need a sidekick tonight?"

He reaches out and touches her face. "You already gave me what I needed tonight, Canary. Thank you. It's good to see you. You're as beautiful as ever. And you smell incredible."

"You, too," she says. "I mean--"

"I know what you mean," he says, stepping to the edge of the rooftop, raising his arm to the sky and shooting out a Bat-line to the skyscraper across the intersection. And then he's gone, back to the night, and she's alone on the rooftop.

This is when Black Canary notices the melted air-conditioning units at the end of the rooftop, which she realizes must have been in the way of her Canary Cry when she orgasmed on Batman's cock. Luckily, this is Gotham City, so the insurance company will have no idea what caused this, and will blame it on someone from Batman's extensive Rogues' Gallery.

Blushing at the inadvertent destruction caused in her search for pleasure and for meeting her needs, Black Canary finds a quick way down from the rooftop and a quick way back to the window of her luxury hotel room, the same window she left out of slightly before midnight, on her way to find what she came to Gotham for.

Once there in her hotel suite, she strips out of her Black Canary armor, and slips under the covers of the hotel room's king-size bed, the fine cotton feeling like purity against her sweaty skin, fully naked as the sun rises, reaching down and feeling Batman's cum, slowly, slowly leaking out of her.

"After all," she thinks, "he put it in so deep up there." Tired and happy, Dinah Laurel falls asleep, curtains pulled tight to make darkness out of the rising daylight, fully satisfied even if she is sleeping alone.

She had no idea that someone had been watching her the entire time.

II.

The sun will be up soon. He swings over the last few rooftops, to where the Batmobile hides.

This night was a bust. If Black Canary had not surprised him with her personal needs, there would have been nothing to note about this patrol at all. The usual hot spots were quiet. The usual suspects were laying low. No one broke out of Arkham, no cryptic messages were found scrawled in blood, no Bat-Signal in the sky at all, not once from dusk to dawn.

He was meditating on whether Black Canary should be commended for being able to find him in the wilds of Gotham, but then he realized that she probably used the Justice League proximity tracker, that only activates when Justice League members are in the same city-size vicinity of one another for more than ten consecutive seconds.

This prevents too many false positives from Superman and The Flash, who might only be passing through at high speed.

But such thoughts distracted Batman enough, that he did not even notice the shadowy figure watching him alight to earth and summon the Batmobile back to life.

The shadowy figure who now steps into the light.

"Give a girl a lift," says the silhouette.

Batman jumps, startled. She just laughs.

"Oh my goodness, I don't think I've ever seen you startled before!"

He's not happy about that, but he's trying not to show it. He is actually very happy to see her of all people standing there, and also very surprised to see her.

"Hello, Diana. Welcome back to Gotham."

Wonder Woman is there, in her red, white, blue and gold armor. Her hair big, her smile big, her eyes big. Calm, beautiful, timeless. Happy.

"Hello, Batman." She sticks out her thumb, like she's hitchhiking. "You won't arrest me for hitch-hiking, will you?"

"It's not technically illegal in Gotham," he replies, chirping the Batmobile into opening her gull-wing doors. "Just unadvised."

"Oh? Too many students taken advantage of? That's okay, I can handle myself," she whom the mortals call Wonder Woman, Diana, Firstborn of the Noble Hippolyte, replies. "I'm pretty tough."

"You try hitch-hiking, you can end up in some pretty bad places. Places you don't expect. Might find yourself in some pretty dank caves."

Diana, Princess of the Amazons, smiles. "Don't tempt me with a good time."

III.

The city is starting to wake up around them as they blaze through it.

Diana loves looking out the one-way glass at the mortals beginning their days in the final hours of the darkness. Most heading into the dense urban center that they are rapidly leaving.

"At these speeds, do they even know it's the Batmobile passing by?" she asks.

"Hope not. The less they see of us the better."

"You mean, us together?"

"I mean us, all of us, any time, ever. They don't need to know the things we need to do."

"The things we do to save them?"

"Sure. I don't do this for acknowledgement. The more I can stay out of their lives, the better."

"I know what you mean," Diana says, sitting in the passenger seat, not saying more that she is thinking, wondering about this mortal--she puts a question mark in her mind next to that word--man behind the wheel. "Who's driving now, you, or the car?"

"It's not a car. It's an experimental project." A beat. "And I'm driving now. With some visual assist from the artificial intelligence."

"You're driving very fast." No response. "You like driving fast, Bruce?"

He chuckles. "Don't you? Diana?"