Her all-green eyes and bright gold skin added an exoticism... a memorable, innate
Koryness...
to a body that would've been exquisite no matter what ethnicity she belonged to. But Dick had to say she would never look quite right without the lengthy mane of red hair and the fruity orange shade of her flesh. It was a singular look. And if there was one thing Kory was, it was singular.
She was beautiful.
Painfully
beautiful. Dick thought he might have a strain of sadism, masochism, whatever running through him, because seeing her and not touching Kory hurt him just a little bit. He liked it, even, that spike of anticipation... the way she looked at him, both of them knowing it was only a matter of time until he
was
touching her. More than touching her. As much more as he could swing.
And the way she was dressed... it couldn't be just him. Dick had to think most men would see Kory like this and feel a tinge of pain. Poor bastards... at least she was
his.
He
could
touch her. But most people, they were shit out of luck. A little more sadism, maybe, but Dick didn't feel too sorry for them. He liked having Kory all to himself. Especially right now.
She wore a white cotton T-shirt, already a half-shirt, which meant that on a girl of Kory's statuesque height it was basically a bra. The NASA logo had never looked better than it did stretched between her sweet, full breasts. The plump hills jutted and jiggled—nipples stretching through the fabric like twin rubies. She didn't need a bra, not when her breasts defied gravity. Even when she wasn't flying.
Then there were her shorts. Nice, purple shorts. On a woman without Kory's curvaceous figure, they'd look normal. Respectable. Conservative, even. Instead, they were stretched taut over hips that were round, tight, and lushly wide. Kory was voluptuous: not fat, not muscular, but a perfectly plump blend between toned flesh and rolling fullness. Her belly, more than exposed between her top and her shorts, was thick—she was no fashion model stick figure—but it still dimpled at the waist with the hourglass perfection of a forties pin-up model. When she walked, her ass shook and swiveled and pumped, working away at the straining fibers of her shorts like a prisoner slowly prepping an escape.
Dick could even see her pubic mound, the smooth sculpting of her bare mons, through the tightness of her bottoms. And just seeing that, he irresistibly pictured the succulent separation they would make around his thick cock—how they'd slide up and down his girthy shaft, trilling with self-evident pleasure while inside, her secret muscles milking away at him like a sucking mouth.
God, he could see the imprint her clit made; Dick imagined he'd be able to see her pubic hair if she had any. But since there was only the spike of her button atop the fleshy lips of her cleft, throbbing redly with her own lustful happiness to see him... stirring underneath the fabric like a trapped bee...
Dick felt the exquisite pain of not being able to fuck Kory, but planning out all the lustful maneuvers she would soon be subjected to. And he could picture exactly how she would toss her head and squeal out her enjoyment of all his efforts. And by God, he wouldn't be taking those hot as fuck clothes off her. He'd pull her shorts down and her shirt up, but he would
not
wait to get her naked before he gave her the orgasm she deserved for looking so... hurtful.
"Dick!" she cooed cheerfully. "I am so glad you decided to keep your promise!"
Dick tried to keep his cool—something maybe only Batman's son could achieve when faced with Kory's riotous enthusiasm. "Well, you know me. My word is my bond."
But it was too damn easy to get swept along by her joie de vivre. Dick considered it a small part of his purpose in life to keep a level head and so steer Kory towards the joyousness she deserved... keeping her well clear of the heartache she might otherwise find on Earth.
Of course, as protective as he was inclined to be, Kory was no child. She had a handle on her emotions—such as it was. A maturity. He was reminded of that now, seeing the poker-faced look she graced him with. Her eyes big and wide and limpid, but most decidedly holding more than simple happiness to see him.
"You did promise that for my birthday, we could do
whatever
I wanted."
Dick had promised that. And he meant it. It was a mark of his trust in her that he would make such a vow. For all her capacity for violence, Kory didn't have a predatory bone in his body. She wouldn't
want
to do anything that made him uncomfortable, whether it was a finger where the sun didn't shine or the excessive brutality in combat that she had worked so hard to curb. Largely because she knew Dick couldn't be with someone who took an enemy's life, even in the heat of battle.
Or... not couldn't... but she didn't want to put him in the position of having to forgive her, any more than he wanted to be in the doghouse, trying to properly apologize to
her.
"So, what do you want to do?"
"I want to stream," Kory announced with a titter, looking him over as though he were just what the doctor ordered.
Stream... Dick knew that, of late, Kory had supplemented her career as a model with working as a streamer. She was such a personable, charismatic... and lovely... presence that Dick considered it no wonder that people would want, even pay, to 'ride along' with her as she went on patrol, watched movies, played video games, or pretty much anything, really.
For his part, Dick didn't think he could stand being one of those all-but-voyeurs who got to look but not touch... that pain thing again, and there was only so much a man could take... but if any woman could cut through the loneliness of online parasocial relationships and actually make people feel better about their, uh, lives... Dick supposed it would be either Kory or Wonder Woman.
And Wonder Woman had people to insist her brand would suffer if she played God of War in a hot tub.
Kory didn't strictly speaking
need
