Marry The Knight Ch 02

A/N: This chapter was betaed by Nomani and Spring. As always, if you have an idea for a fic, send me an e-mail so we can discuss it.

The only thing Kory hated about coming home to the Clocktower was that she had to fly through a mile of subway to get to it. A scantily-clad superhero couldn't be seen flying into Oracle's secret headquarters, after all.

But after a few minutes of flying without sunlight, she came home, which was warmer by far. She flew up through the elevator shaft, and shot right onto Barbara's floor.

Kory loved Dick with a fervor that was only equaled by her relationship with Donna, but it was possible that what she loved best about being married to Dick was his other wives. Dinah was so glamorous and lighthearted - like her - and they got along like sisters. While Barbara was smart and calculating, a bit like Donna and a bit like Dick had once been: the perfect project for Kory to work on and cheer up and make love to.

She walked through their shared loft. Though each of them had their own little quadrants in the vast floor that held their residences, the influences of one swept through all the others. Donna's photography was particularly popular, as were her gifts of Amazonian artifacts, while the smell of Dinah's cooking and taste in take-out cuisine could be detected just about everywhere. As for Kory herself, she had enjoyed teaching the others how to care for the Tamaranian plants that now tagged virtually every room on the floor. With proper feeding, they bore very succulent fruit.

Kory went to the corner of the library—of course, in Barbara's building, the first room through the elevator doors was a library—and found her

es'crul

plant thriving in spite of Barbara's earlier warnings about how she didn't have time to care for a plant. Picking an edible petal from one of its flowers, she savored the taste of home.

Then she heard Dinah's voice from behind her. "Are those safe for humans to eat?"

Kory swirled with a smile, perhaps using just a bit of her flight ability to give her hair-toss an extra kick. "Very much so—just like everything on Tamaran."

Dinah smiled back at her, smoothing an errant lock of her own behind her ear. "Good. I've already had, like, twenty."

Kory very pointedly widened her smile as she looked Dinah over. A certain part of her that went with her green eyes judged that Dinah wasn't quite as curvy as her—but it was a near thing. And more importantly, Dinah unknowingly held to a high Tamaranian philosophy: if you're going to defeat someone in battle, you should look good doing it.

Dinah looked very good doing anything.

"And do you still have an—appetite?"

Dinah licked her lips, her own eyes tracking Kory's hand as it trailed down the cool metal of the Tamaranian's armor. What little there was of it, anyway. Tamaranians had very few vital organs to protect...

"Now that you mention it... I've been wanting to ride you all day."

"What's stopping you, wife-fellow?"

***

"Babs, come ride Kory with me! It's amazing!"

The bespectacled redhead didn't look up from her computer, but she did look at the faint reflection on the monitor. Dinah was behind her, straddling Kory as the Tamaranian floated through the air while doing a joking breaststroke.

"Busy," Barbara replied. Her terseness, as usual, signaled that this was not one of those times where she wanted Dinah to 'persuade' her to give up the keyboard.

Dinah pulled on Kory's hair, reining her to a stop. "C'mon, Babs..."

"

You

come on! Ivy just came up with her new plan to kill Bruce."

Unprompted, Kory flew to stand beside Barbara, Dinah awkwardly balancing atop Kory's six feet and four inches. "Will he be alright? What is it?"

Barbara could've

blushed

at how simultaneously scared and determined Kory sounded. Not an ounce of cynicism in her. She would love and defend anyone, especially the adopted father of her beloved Dick Grayson.

"Nothing too bad." Barbara called up the relevant surveillance footage as Dinah pushed through Kory's mane of reddish-gold hair to see it. "She's been up all night breeding a new species of plant. Near as I can place it, it's based on something that grows in

Borneo

."

She tapped on the monitor with her index finger, despite her hatred of smudges. If she couldn't show off a little for her alien sister-wife, what was the point?

"The leaves are edible, and they're the best thing to happen to penises since the blue pill. Just chew one and it doesn't matter if you've gone ten rounds with Huntress, you're instantly back—

up

."

Dinah kept hanging off Kory's strong back like she was a baby in a papoose. "We could use some of that around her. Much simpler than getting another husband."

"Yeah, unfortunately it has a hell of a kick. An overdose—and by that I mean about

three

—causes fatal heart failure. I've sent a sample to Dr. Holland in Louisiana."

"Swamp Thing," Dinah whispered to Kory.

"Ooh, I like him."

"

He

," Barbara stressed, calling their attention back to her. She may not have wanted to give a briefing, but as long as she was, they would listen to her. "Is working on a safe version to swap out with Ivy's."

"Not to mention make a fortune," Dinah added.

Kory nodded, which Dinah avoided by ducking her head. "Ivy would do far more good if she used her abilities for niceness instead of evil. Why invent such a thing only to use as a murder weapon? Why not patent it, sell it for profit, and use the proceeds to simply

buy

the woodlands she wants preserved?"

"Well, she's a crazy person," Barbara explained. "But we're working on that."

"Working

hard

," Dinah giggled.

Suddenly, Bruce's voice came over Barbara's speakers. "Yes, Ms. Lance. Very hard."

Barbara gestured to her headset. "Ladies, this is why you shouldn't interrupt me when I'm working. Not even to ride Kory."

"That wasn't what it sounded like!" Dinah said hurriedly.

"Well, let's not be hasty," Kory countered.

Bruce's voice steamrolled over them, cool and efficient. "Ivy's antisocial behavior stems from the loss of control she felt when Dr. Woodrue experimented on her, leading to a pathological rejection of society in favor of identifying with nature. This went along with her developing a superiority complex; not helping was the fact that she truly is incredibly powerful. Egotism, megalomania, narcissism—all a defense mechanism. Think out her plan: she'll offer herself to me, trusting I'll find her so desirable that I'll accept a strange drug from a known poisoner just so I can copulate with her repeatedly. To break through her defenses, I'll have to allow her some measure of power over me—then demonstrate to her that the loss of power isn't necessarily a negative experience."

"And how will you do that?" Barbara asked.

He paused. "That's a private matter, Oracle. Speaking of which, you didn't happen to watch me during my engagement with Quinzel, did you?"

"Absolutely not, Christian Grey. Good luck with the green queen."

"Luck isn't a factor. Going offline. And Barbara—spend some time with your wives. Dick's showing signs of fatigue on patrol."

The line went dead.

Barbara straightened her glasses guiltily. "I don't know what he's talking about. And I saw Dick first anyway, so..."

Kory was too busy wiping the sweat from her brow to notice Barbara's fluster. "Was it just me, or was that a little hot?"

***

First thing in the morning, Bruce showed up at Harley and Ivy's room with breakfast. Harley, of course, took it in bed, drowning her pancakes in syrup. Ivy wasn't hungry, except for the possibility of getting Bruce alone.

Naturally, he offered it like he was obeying her pheromones.

"Pamela, if you're not busy, would you mind accompanying me to the greenhouse? There's something I'd like to show you."

"There's something I'd like to show you as well," Pamela grinned, picking up her new rosebush in its cute little pot. The leaves were coming in quite nicely. "You first, husband dear."

Gesturing her after him, they left Harley to lick the syrup off her nose by herself.

As she walked behind Bruce, Pamela desperately wished that she had a knife to put between his shoulder blades. She kept picturing him putting his meaty animal hands on Harley. And to think, he'd actually tricked the little fool into thinking she'd

enjoyed

it.

Well, they'd see how he enjoyed

her

. A real woman. A goddess.

"As I said, I think you could do wonderful things at Wayne Enterprises." Bruce looked back at her as he prattled on, sparing barely a glance for the little potted plant she bore before her. "There's one particular project that I think would be right up your alley. Tell me what you think."

He pushed open the double doors. And like they'd been teleported, they were outside—the austerity and gloom of the manor giving way to a bright, warm greenhouse.

Ivy suppressed a shudder as she felt sunlight's familiar caress on her green skin. Her wedding dress long discarded, she'd quickly resumed wearing her leafy costume. And people thought it was just what she wore. It was armor, as much as a Celt's war paint or a soldier's camouflage. But because it showed some skin, everyone thought it just meant she wanted to fuck them.

As usual, that was to her advantage. "Mmmm," she moaned erotically, brushing the leaves down the slope of her cleavage, showing her breasts almost to her moss-green nipples. "The sun feels so nice in here. Tell me, Brucie, do you tan?"

"Not as much as I should," Bruce confessed with a chuckle. "But please, we can sun ourselves later. I really have to show you this."

"Mmmmm," Ivy repeated herself, withdrawing some foliage from the back of her costume until she was practically wearing a thong. "I'd love to see anything you have to show me."

There was another reason she wasn't wrenching a knife out of Bruce's body at the moment, aside from the difficulties that that would give even the most pheromone-happy inheritance judge. Bruce cut a sweet figure in that cerise-colored polo shirt and white slacks. She would enjoy using him up, having the sum total of his life and death inside her. There was a beautiful naturalism to the thought. She'd reclaim his cruelty and arrogance as waste water was reclaimed from the soil.

Bruce played at obliviousness, walking her toward one of the many attractions in the miniature forest of the greenhouse. This one looked like a rubber tree, but it didn't feel the same to Ivy through the Green. It was oily somehow. Malnourished.

She resisted the urge to start fixing it. Later. When Wayne was dead, she'd turn his entire mansion into a jungle. A proper garden.

"I know how sensitive you are about the logging industry," Bruce said, patting the trunk of the strange tree for a handhold like he was thinking of climbing it. "But it's unrealistic to expect the whole world to just give up lumber to please you. So I thought, what if we can have both? Lumber, and healthy, thriving trees?"

"Co-existence?" Ivy sneered, and it took real strength of will to keep from laughing bitterly. The only way metal coexisted with the tree was when the tree simply grew around it, as she had done with Harley.

"Exactly. I thought of how trees shed leaves every year, with no harm to the plant, and how sheep are shorn without hurting them at all. Why can't lumber be the same—ah!" He got his grip and pulled at the trunk. To Ivy's utter surprise, a thick slab of wood came off the trunk, almost to the core. "Way."

Ivy stepped forward, fingers clawing to send poison straight into Wayne's bloodstream.

But through the Green she sensed something—the tree wasn't sending out any distress. It wasn't hurt. No more so than it would be with a piece of bark scraped off, or a twig snapped away. Already, she could feel the lost wood growing back,

wanting

to grow back.

"It's not perfect," Bruce said, setting the lumber aside. "It takes far too long for the wood to grow back and it leaves the tree weak. That's fine in controlled conditions like the greenhouse, but in nature, it'd have to be much more resilient. Any input you could give us would be vastly appreciated."

Ivy licked her apple-red lips to a sheen. Yes. Yes, this was perfect. Enough to earn him her beautiful murder. "It's wonderful, Bruce. I think this must be your legacy. Your lasting gift to the world."

"The first of many!" Bruce said, grinning like a clod. "Let's give them to the world together."

"Yes, Bruce. But first, something for us. Just for us." Ivy set the rosebush down in a tree's crotch. "I'm tired of being alone. I want you to have me, Bruce. And with this, you can have me so many times... so many ways."

"Oh?"

"After you've come inside me, just eat one tiny leaf and you can do it all over again. As many times as you like." Her hands freed, Ivy ran them over Bruce's muscular chest. "As many times as

I

like."

"That's thoughtful of you," Bruce said, taking her hands in his and squeezing them. "But I'm sure I won't need any... herbal aids. Not with a woman as beautiful as you."

Pamela's eyes darkened to a shade of viridian she let few men see—and less survive. "We'll see."

"Tell you what. After I come, if you want to keep going, I'll try it. But I think you'll be pleasantly surprised by my staying power. I'm no minute man!"

No, you're a dead man.

Ivy moved in close like a predator lunging, pursing her hands on his chest as she brought her lips up to his—and then shoved him back instead.

Bruce lost his balance, tumbling down among the thick buttress roots of an arjun tree.

Ivy was down atop him in an instant, losing the leaves from her body so that they fell away with her speed. She straddled him, gripping his wrists tightly and raising them over his head, pressed against the tree trunk.

Vines sprang from the wood and securely bound his hands, while more emerged from the roots to bind his ankles. She kissed him hard, running her hands over the lines of his face and then his broad torso, in ownership. He groaned, perhaps unwillingly, and shifted his hips under her. She abandoned his mouth, left him gasping, to suck on his throat.

And her ivy feelers crept up his pant legs to shred his trousers. Her slender fingers bunched in his shirt and ripped it open. Even as she gave in to his desire for her, she wanted him to know who the powerful one was.

Then, Ivy abruptly stopped, leaving an angry red hickey like a vampire's bite on Bruce's throat. So...

mammalian.

She reared up atop Bruce, letting him take in her naked body. Before she had his life, she would have his awe.

And she had it. Her mint-green body was perfect, giving the appearance of being as carefully cultivated as a Japanese bonsai tree. Her hips wide and lush, her breasts seeming weightless despite their bountiful size, her legs endless. All leading inexorably to the perfect flower that was her face—red lips and jade eyes and blood-red hair burnished by some of the brown leaves that had fallen from her costume. A few more clung to her damp body, giving her a savage look. Nature red in tooth and claw.

The feeler that had started at Bruce's feet reached his groin, its frond wrapping itself around the eye of his zipper and pulling it down. Bruce felt the slightly disconcerting sensation of Ivy's plants maneuvering his manhood out of his underwear, followed by the somewhat tangy feel of the last of his clothes being reclaimed by nature.

Soon, he was laid bare before Ivy. A sacrifice offered up to a jungle goddess.

Ivy stared down at his cock, which had grown long and hard in anticipation—not that it had far to go. She raised a considering eyebrow, wondering if she'd even be able to take it.

Then she scoffed. It wasn't

that

big. It'd just been a while since she'd last entertained a man, that was all. Why bother when she could get whatever she wanted from one with a few pheromones?

But no. She'd give Wayne the full treatment. Especially the dawning horror of realizing that his own pleasure had killed him.

She disdainfully petted the throbbing beast between them, like it was one of those forest creatures that knew its place. Then she lifted herself up, and eased herself down.

Even the notorious Bruce Wayne hissed through his teeth, his hands tightening on a branch overhead, as she took him inside her. Ivy felt almost as much pleasure at that as she did at the feeling of being parted, entered—surrendered to. Then, with a degree of worry, she realized he just kept

going

. There was more of him. Much more.

Ivy hadn't been a virgin in a long time, although the only penetration she'd received lately had been from Harley... and those toys were quite undersized to offend disrespecting 'Mistah J'. But it felt like she'd

never

had anyone so big inside her. He couldn't really be as thick and full as he seemed, could he?

Unless he was still growing...

"You're so beautiful, Ivy," Bruce groaned as she came to rest with what seemed like—what

had to be

—all of him

pulsing

inside her. "How can a woman be so beautiful?"

She felt an echo of a blush at his compliment; most men lost all their charm as soon as they were inside her. But no, it was just flattery. She wouldn't give him anything for being

better

at predatory maleness than his predecessors. In fact, she slapped him across the face.

"Not a woman. A goddess."

And he smiled at her, one side of his face blooming red. "Yes, Ivy. Of course. How could I forget?" He bent his head in obeisance to kiss the skin over her heart almost chastely.

His show of respect merely angered her. She disliked the taste of being worshipped by

him

. Of course he was awestruck by her. How could anyone not be? But all she needed from him was his seed.

"Come for me," she ordered him, her hips churning already, massaging his cock inside her, burying him within her.

And he was stiff, firm, unyielding. Nothing like the cold dead

toys

that had entered her before. He was warm and alive, his member full of pounding blood. It appealed to the animal in her; hitting just the right spots as she held it inside her.

She was having trouble denying how good it felt, having a man bow before her and offer up the homage she was due. Ferociously, she bit back the pleasure. This was about murder. Nothing else.

Arching her back, she drew him even tighter within her. And he did grit his teeth at that. She delighted in her mastery over him.

Then, Ivy belatedly realized that she was cooing. It really did feel good—much better than Harley's overenthusiastic penetrations. Would it be so bad to enjoy this just a little bit? Already the sparks she burst with every sweep of her hips traveled her receptive body...

It wasn't as if it was something

he

was doing to

her

.

She

was doing it to

him!

And he was

very

doable...

Ivy soon found herself enjoying it

very

much. His subjugation. Her conquest. Even the way he bucked his hips in perfect counterpoint to her receiving gulps was all in servitude to

her

.

She almost regretted the fact that she had to kill him, because now and forever, he was hers. Her servant and her acolyte and her whore. Even his last thoughts would be of

her

.

He gave all of himself to her when even Harley held back out of loyalty to her clown, and she took all of him. Everything he could—

Ivy's tireless hips sang as she pushed them forward, hard, like she meant to swallow Bruce's entire body within her own. Her flesh burned and burst, a cleansing forest fire that cleared what felt like acres of deadwood from her.

But at her center he remained cold steel... at least in comparison to her inferno.

It took her a few gasping breaths to realize what had happened. She'd come. He was still rock hard inside her.