DISCLAIMER: The Justice League of America characters are the property of DC Comics. The story contents are the creation and property of Djinn and are copyright (c) 2005 by Djinn. This story is Rated R.
She sat silently, listening to sea birds fly above her, to waves crashing on the rocks just below where she sat. The sun was high in the sky; she could feel it warming the top of her head, could feel it beating down on her legs but not on her face. It was high and slightly behind her.
A plane crossed the sky to the east. She could hear its sound change as it got farther away, then the wind blew her hair around her, and the sounds changed again.
Something else flew toward
her. She imagined how he would
look. Hair too short
now to be blown much by the wind of his passage.
She didn't answer. She was angry and staying motionless was the only way to keep that anger from coming out. Athena had used her. Used her and again denied her the thing she wanted. And Diana could not bring herself to ask for anything else. It was a point of honor--or maybe just stubbornness.
"Where did you go?" Kal asked.
She pulled away. "Don't." She heard him sigh. "How did you find me?"
"I don't know."
She turned to him, her face tilting up as if she could peer through the blindfold and see the truth.
She could feel him smiling at her. "I flew around until I found you."
That was probably true. He was very fast.
"Fly with me," he said softly.
He sighed again. "Are you mad at me?"
"I'm mad at everyone." She pushed herself to her feet, walking away from him quickly.
Too quickly. She tripped over something but caught herself before she fell. He didn't rush to help her. She counted that a victory.
"You seem particularly mad at me." He got up, his footsteps steady as he crossed the distance between them. Taking her arm, he pulled her to him, into a hug.
"Don't." Hugs were dangerous. Hugs were for when she felt strong and invincible and virtuous. She didn't feel that way today. She felt tired and annoyed and lonely.
She tried to push him away. He didn't let go.
She'd never fought him all out. Had never known if he would be stronger or if she would. She was about to kick up with her knee and start the battle, when he whispered, "Let me love you, Diana."
She stopped the kick, her knee up until it fell against his leg. She couldn't feel the ground and realized he had picked her up. They were flying, and he was holding her close, his hands rubbing her back.
"What are you doing?"
"What I've wanted to do for far too long."
Then he kissed her. The sound of the sea birds faded, the waves ceased to crash. She could feel the sun stronger on her as he flew higher and higher, pulling her closer, his lips claiming hers with desperate need.
She kissed him back. Knew it wasn't right, but did it anyway. The fates had picked the wrong day to test her. She was tired of fighting this feeling.
He pulled away, then moved in again, his lips resting against her cheek. "I love you."
"Why are you doing this now?" They'd resisted this for far too long for him to give in now. "Did you and Lois have a fight?"
She waited. He normally evaded such truths. He and Lois were off limits to her. They did not discuss his marriage, his happiness or lack thereof. Diana was never sure from day to day what was going on with him. But she suspected she was his buffer. The thing that kept him sane. That kept his marriage working Because he had her--on the side, in spirit if not in body.
"After this"--he touched her blindfold, his fingers floating over it--"you cut us all off from you."
He nuzzled her neck, and she sighed. His arms around her felt so good.
"So it was just you and her having to make do?" She felt mean, let her voice turn nasty.
"Yes." He moved his lips to her ear, murmured the question she'd expected him to ask for some time. "Are you in love with Bruce?"
"What if I am?" But then he was kissing her again, his lips pushing her further and further away from the woman who had long ago resolved to never do this with him--not while his wife was alive. In Kal's arms like this, Diana was losing the woman who was maybe in love with Bruce--or just thought he might be the only acceptable substitute for the man holding her now.
"Are you in love with him?" he asked again, his voice low, soft. Pressing her but not pushing her.
"I don't know."
"Are you in love with me?"
She sighed. She'd told him a hundred times that she loved him. She'd never crossed that line, though, and admitted that she was in love with him. Never said that whenever she went to the watchtower her heart would beat a little faster just because they were going to spend time together. Any time, it didn't matter what kind. Fighting, planning, helping. All good, so long as it was with him.
This time his voice pressing her so patiently annoyed her. She punched out, caught him by surprise, and he let her go. She plummeted like a stone, not even trying to recover.
He caught her well before she was in danger of crashing into the ground.
"Did you think I'd hit?" She pulled him to her, kissing him first. Kissing him deeply, with angry passion.
"No, I knew I'd catch you."
"I don't need you to catch me." She kicked him away again, this time flying, not falling. She let herself go as fast as she could, felt him coming up behind her. They'd never raced this way, not when it wasn't for fun.
And this wasn't for fun anymore. This wasn't for anything good or decent. This was for possession. This was for life-changing decisions that shouldn't be made while she wore a red blindfold that matched his cape.
"Kal, don't," she yelled, but her words were lost in the storm that whirled up around her as he caught her, pulling her to him.
"We belong together." His voice was lost, his hands harder on her than she'd ever felt. But his lips were gentle. He wanted her. Wanted to break her and wanted to save her, to do everything he'd ever wanted to her and for her and with her.
They slowed, their terrible speed dropping as their passion grew. She gave up, let him take them where he would. She could feel it getting colder. The Fortress, of course. They would be safe there. They could be alone there.
"She wanted me to leave." His voice was dead when he spoke of Lois.
"We fought over you." He kissed her as he pulled her into the Fortress. "We fought over what you should have done when you battled Medusa." He laughed, and it was a bitter sound. "She thinks you did right killing her."
"You, of course, don't?" She struck out then, her hand on his throat, pushing him hard against the wall. "You never want to kill the monster."
"I told her why you shouldn't have done it. I was, apparently, quite impassioned about all the good things you were." He touched her face, didn't try to push her hand away from his throat. "I was too passionate. Much, much too passionate."
"Lois nearly died not too long ago. You were frantic to save her."
"Yes. And that's part of this. That was a changing moment for her, I think. She's tired of sharing me."
"She asked you to choose?"
There was no answer, and she realized he'd probably nodded. Then he seemed to realize she couldn't see him. "She did ask me to choose. I wouldn't. She said that was a choice in itself."
"I don't need you to protect me."
"I know." He reached up, gently removed her hand from his throat. His fingers tightened on hers, pulling her close. "This isn't about you being blind."
She didn't answer, waited for him to say more. But all he did was pull her close, hugging her, his hands on her waist, not stroking, not rubbing, just warm and strong. His lips were on her hair, but he didn't kiss her. She could hear him breathing, could feel the warmth of him against her.
She thought she felt him shudder. "What?"
"Choose, Diana. Do you want this?"
When she didn't answer, he said, "I thought you were in love with me."
"What if you thought wrong?"
He moved away, the warmth of him fading as his footsteps did too, down the hall, toward the bedrooms. She listened to how many steps, which way he turned.
Then she followed him, standing in the doorway as she listened to him taking off his uniform, then lying down on the bed. He was naked, just a few steps from her.
"You threw away your marriage for me?"
"You could fly home now. Get it back."
"Yes. I probably could." She heard the bed shift. But he hadn't gotten up, was only moving around.
"Why don't you?"
"I can't. Not when you're this close. Not when we're this close."
She didn't answer, and he didn't say anything. He lay quietly, not feeling the need apparently to fill the silence as he normally would have. He reminded her of Bruce in that moment.
"I am in love with you," she finally said.
"That's good." There was another long silence. He moved again, the bed creaking. "Have you ever...?"
"I never said we were going to."
"I know. That's not what I asked. Have you ever done it?"
"No." The admission made her blush. Because she was innocent and because she was not--he had no idea the number of times she'd touched herself imagining it was him.
"Come here," he said, his voice low, grave. As if he wanted her to know that he was aware of all he was giving up. "Diana, please."
"Kal, this is not the way to kill the monster."
"You think that if I do this, I'll be giving up all I believe in?"
"Won't you be?"
"I don't know. I'm not as good a man as you think I am, Diana. Do you know how many times I've looked at you, under that uniform, under any of the clothes you've worn around me? I've memorized your body. You have a mole on your back, just below where your uniform stops. The fabric rubs it a lot, makes it irritated--after a fight it bleeds sometimes.
She moved closer, kicked her boots off.
"You have a mark on your left breast, on the side. It looks like a burn. A recent one."
"It is a burn. I dripped lamp oil on myself during a ritual. It burned, even through the shift I wore. It...hurt." She began to take her uniform off. The lasso slapped against her leg and she reached for it to toss it away. Then she changed her mind and carried it to the bed. "Give me your hand."
She looped the lasso over his hand, could feel him grab hold, pulling it tight around his skin.
"Ask your questions, Diana."
"Do you know what you're doing?"
"Do you want to lose your wife?"
"No, but I want you more than I want her." His honesty was brutal, the lasso forcing no less than this cruel truth from him.
"Do you love me?"
"Now is when the opening appeared." He pulled her down to him, looping the lasso around both of them. "Your turn."
She felt him settle her on the bed, easing her under him, touching her and making her moan. "Ask me what you want to know, Kal."
"Can you do this and not hate us both?"
She thought that maybe if she could see him, the answer would be easy. But here, in this dark world she'd lived in since the fight with Medusa, truth was less reliable. Or it was reliable but not so pretty. "Yes. I can do this and not hate us both."
"Will you hate only one of us?"
She laughed, then forced herself to stop. This was his most dangerous attraction for her. That of all the men she knew, he could so easily make her laugh. "I won't hate you."
He kissed her, his tongue opening her mouth. "That should be enough for me, but it's not. Will you hate yourself if you do this?"
She could feel the lasso prompting the truth from her. She did not want to admit this truth. Did not want him to know that it was possible she had no conscience left anymore where he was concerned. She wished he'd kept the questions about him.
She opened her mouth to speak, but felt him pull the lasso from her.
"If you don't want to answer, it is an answer. Lois wasn't wrong about that." There was defeat in his voice.
She grabbed the lasso back, looping it around her hand again. "No. I won't hate myself."
There was a very long moment where he said nothing, and she could feel him staring down at her.
"Is that enough truth for you, Kal?"
"Yes," he said, pulling the lasso off her.
She reached for the blindfold, but he said, "Leave it on if you want." She realized he'd probably peeked under it already; a little red cloth wouldn't stop him from knowing how her eyes had changed.
She untied the blindfold and handed it to him. "I don't need it with you."
He moved, putting the blindfold somewhere safe probably. Then he drew her to him and kissed her again, his mouth firm and hard and sure. The truth had given him that. The certainty that he owned her. That she owned him. That this was, if not right, somehow meant to be.
His hands roamed her body, touching at will, sending her up and down and into bliss. He did not move over her until he had sent her spinning and moaning and clutching many times. She knew he was looking out for her, and this time she did not call him on being too protective. This was not a fight. This was love, and she did not know the moves the way she would have known the steps in a fight.
His mouth was on her, down low, kissing her in ways that had nothing to do with her lips, and she was clutching again at the bed, hips raised. He pushed her down and moved closer and closer until he was with her. She felt a moment's remorse as her body joined with his, taking the place of his wife, her body claiming him for her own. Only one moment of remorse then it changed to something darker and selfish and more pleasurable than anything she'd ever felt. They were together. His voice was low and possessive as he murmured her name, and he didn't sound guilty at all as he pushed her harder and harder.
And suddenly she understood. He was moving hard, and she was in no pain, but if she were a human she would be. He was not holding back and it was probably the first time he'd never held back. Her first time with him would be his first time taking his full pleasure. No one could give him what she could. No one could take from him what she could.
The sex alone would be addictive. Might be enough to cement them for years.
His cries echoing through the Fortress, counterbalanced by her own, would be reason enough to want this. But then his lips touched down on hers, the feeling so tender, so sweet that for a moment she thought she might break from the emotion.
"I love you, Diana," he murmured as he pulled her close, stroking her and wrapping warm, wet limbs around hers.
"Kal. My Kal." It was the wrong sentiment and it was the only one she could feel. The superhero should get up, should walk away from this now that it had happened, and resolve not to let it happen again. But she had told him truth, not just lust's version of it. She did not want to get up and walk away. She did not think she would ever want to get up and walk away.
She did not feel bad. She just thought she should feel bad. Even though she knew she would never feel bad.
"We waited so long," she murmured, feeling his arms tighten. Her anger, which had not left her since Medusa had turned her world into a sightless nightmare, finally subsided.
"We've waited long enough." He kissed her again, and she smiled. She heard him laugh softly when she smiled. She didn't smile much anymore.
"You still want to know why now?" he whispered.
"Because I almost lost you. Again. I couldn't do it again." He buried his face in her hair. "I almost lost Lois too. It is difficult to explain."
"Don't try." Her tone was not hard, not the harsh whip sound of before. She was not berating him. She simply did not want to talk about Lois anymore. She wiggled against him, could feel him responding. "Love me again," she said.
"I shouldn't," he said, and there was a note of irony in his voice as he pulled her on top of him. "We both know that. Yet it matters so little. Something may be fundamentally wrong with us, Diana." He did not sound overly concerned about that. Sounded more like he thought he should put the idea out there for her to ponder.
She might do that. Once she finished riding him. He did not look like he minded that she was paying more attention to their mutual pleasure than to their sudden lack of conscience.
"Love me," he whispered.
"Always." She said, wondering if he'd promised Lois that, then deciding it didn't matter.
Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing but them and this terrible selfishness that was consuming her. She'd waited so long. So had he. There would be consequences to this. Repercussions. But for now, there was only this wonderful thing between them.
They'd worry about everything else later.