There's an R-18 section in this chapter.
Chapter 21:
– Amara Black –
Morgana raised both arms, and the temperature in the casino plummeted so sharply that frost crystallized on the slot machines. The emergency lights flickered and died, plunging us into darkness, but it wasn't true darkness. It was Morgana's darkness, alive and hungry and filled with things that shouldn't exist.
"You dare," she hissed, and her voice wasn't one voice anymore but a symphony of echoes that made my teeth ache, "attack what is MINE?"
Black magic didn't just radiate from her—it erupted. Waves of pure malevolent energy rolled off her body like heat shimmer in reverse, and where it touched the merpeople, they... changed.
The first wave hit a cluster of creatures near the ruined wall. Their grey-green skin immediately began to bubble and blister, like they were being boiled from the inside. They shrieked—high, desperate sounds that barely registered as living things—as their flesh liquified and sloughed off their bones. But the bones didn't fall. They kept moving, animated by Morgana's will, shambling forward for three more steps before crumbling to ash.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Cyborg whispered somewhere behind me.
The second wave was worse.
A group of merpeople trying to flank us suddenly stopped mid-charge, their yellow eyes going wide with confusion. Then their bodies began to twist. Arms bent backward until bones snapped like dry twigs. Spines curved impossibly, vertebrae popping one by one in a sickening percussion. Their mouths opened to scream but kept opening, jaws unhinging, stretching wider and wider until the flesh tore at the corners and their heads split like overripe fruit.
One creature, braver or stupider than the rest, actually made it within striking distance of Morgana. It raised its rusty trident high—
She caught it bare-handed.
"No," she said simply.
The creature's arm turned to glass. Then its shoulder. Then its torso, the transformation spreading like ice across water, until the entire merperson was a perfect crystal statue. Morgana flicked her finger against its forehead, and it shattered into a million glittering fragments that caught the emergency lighting like lethal snow.
Meanwhile, Kara was demonstrating why Kryptonians were considered gods among mortals.
She moved faster than thought. One second she was hovering above us, the next she was across the room, her fist going through three creatures simultaneously. The shockwave from her movement alone knocked several more off their feet. She grabbed one by the tail, spun like an Olympic hammer thrower, and used it as a living weapon to bludgeon a dozen others into paste.
"Don't hurt the civilians!" she called out cheerfully, as if this were a training exercise rather than a massacre. A creature lunged at her with its teeth bared. She caught it by the throat, squeezed—its head popped off like a champagne cork, purple blood geysering—and tossed the corpse aside without breaking stride.
Her heat vision lanced out in precise beams, cauterizing wounds on injured civilians even as she continued her destructive dance through the enemy ranks. Multi-tasking at its finest.
The merpeople weren't stupid. Vicious, hungry, and numerous, but not stupid. They recognized death when they saw it.
The first one to run was missing an arm, purple-black blood streaming down its side as it scrambled toward the breach in the wall. Then another followed. Then five. Then twenty.
"SKREEEEE!" The sound ripped through the casino—not from one throat but dozens, maybe hundreds. A retreat call. The merpeople were communicating, warning each other, and the message was clear. Run.
They fled in a chaotic stampede, trampling their own dead and wounded in their desperation to escape. Some dove through windows. Others squeezed through cracks in the walls. The braver ones—or more terrified ones—actually threw themselves over the ship's railing, plummeting fifty feet to the ocean below rather than face another second of Morgana's nightmares or Kara's fists.
Within sixty seconds, the casino had gone from battlefield to graveyard.
Hundreds of corpses littered the floor. Some were burned. Some were frozen. Some were turned inside-out in ways that made my eyes hurt to process. Purple-black blood painted every surface, dripping from the ceiling, pooling in the overturned slot machines, making the red velvet carpet squelch underfoot.
"Holy shit," Beast Boy said, breaking the spell. He was back in human form, green skin pale with exhaustion, staring at the devastation with undisguised awe. "That was... I mean... you just... they're all..."
"Dead," Morgana finished for him, smoothing down her dress as if she'd done nothing more strenuous than swat a fly. "Yes. That was rather the point."
Kara landed beside me, and I tried not to notice how the gore-splattered superhero costume somehow made her look even more attractive. Blood on her cheek. Hair mussed from the speed. That bright innocent smile was completely at odds with the violence she'd just unleashed.
"Amara! You're okay!" She reached out like she was going to hug me, then seemed to remember she was covered in fish-person viscera and thought better of it. "When Dick sent that emergency message to me, I flew as fast as I could. I'm so glad I made it in time!"
Morgana was slowly moving to my other side with deliberate possessiveness. Her hand came to rest on my lower back, fingers splaying in a gesture that was unmistakably territorial. "Your assistance was... appreciated but unnecessary."
Kara's expression flickered with confusion, then recognition. "You must be the evil witch Morgana. Dick mentioned you." Her tone shifted, gaining an edge of steel that reminded me this wasn't just a pretty farm girl—this was Superman's cousin. "He also mentioned you're the one teaching Amara dark magic and murder."
"And you must be that alien boy scout's younger cousin," Morgana replied smoothly. "At least I can see, unlike him, you're not afraid to get your hands dirty. Accept in certain circumstances…" she added with disdain. We all knew she was talking about how the league killed Mordred.
The temperature seemed to drop another five degrees. Kara's eyes flickered red for just a moment.
"Okay!" I said quickly, stepping between them before this could escalate. The last thing we needed was a Kryptonian-versus-ancient-witch showdown on a ship full of traumatized civilians. "Let's all just take a breath. We won. The monsters are gone. Everyone's alive." I paused, glancing at the old man's corpse still slumped at his jackpot machine. "Well, mostly everyone..."
"AMARA!" Bellatrix's shriek cut through the tension. She practically skipped across the blood-slicked floor, completely ignoring the viscera, and threw her arms around both Morgana and me in a crushing group hug. "My beautiful daughters! You were both MAGNIFICENT! The way you melted them and shattered them and turned their insides into their outsides. I've never been more proud!"
Morgana went rigid in the embrace. "Madam," she said slowly, her voice dripping with barely controlled irritation, "I am not your daughter. I am not Amara's sister. I am her mentor, her teacher, and—" She paused, seeming to catch herself before saying something more revealing. "I would appreciate it if you would unhand me."
Bellatrix pulled back, blinking in confusion. "But... but you look exactly alike! The same perfect face, the same beautiful dark hair, the same magnificent breasts—"
"They do have great breasts…" Beast Boy muttered before Cyborg punched him in the shoulder. "Ow—"
Bellatrix continued, undeterred. "If you're not twins, then what—oh!" Her eyes lit up with manic understanding. "Time travel! You're Amara from the future! How delightful! Tell me, do we kill the Dark Lord? Does my daughter rule the world?"
Morgana looked at me with an expression that clearly said explain this insanity immediately.
Before I could, Starfire descended from wherever she'd been hovering, and her entire face lit up when she saw Kara. "Friend Supergirl! You have arrived to save us! This is most wonderful!" She pulled Kara into one of those full-body Tamaranean hugs that left nothing to the imagination. "We have been fighting the sea monsters for what feels like the hours, and Friend Raven had intercourse with Friend Amara, and—"
"STARFIRE!" Raven's mortified shriek echoed through the casino.
Everyone turned to stare at her. She'd pushed her hood back at some point during the battle, and her grey face had turned such a deep purple it was almost black. Her violet eyes were wide with horror.
"Did she just say—" Kara started.
"It is true!" Starfire announced cheerfully, apparently immune to the concept of discretion. "I witnessed their mating ritual myself! Friend Raven made the most interesting sounds when Friend Amara put her tail inside—"
Raven's hand shot out, dark energy wrapping around Starfire's mouth like a gag. "Please," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "stop talking."
Morgana's grip on my back had tightened to the point of pain. "Your... tail?" she said, her voice dangerously soft. "Amara, darling, would you care to explain what exactly happened on this 'pleasure cruise' that you took without me?"
The baby phoenix chose that moment to poke its head out from between my breasts, chirping curiously at all the new faces.
Morgana blinked at the tiny bird poking out from between my breasts, and for the first time since I'd known her, she looked genuinely thrown off balance. "A Dark Phoenix," she breathed. "Congratulations, my darling apprentice. Such an impressive familiar." She reached out with one elegant finger, and my phoenix chirped at her, tilting its tiny head. "Beautiful."
The moment of tenderness lasted approximately three seconds before Morgana's gaze swept across the casino again, taking in the gore-splattered Titans, the traumatized civilians, Kara still dripping purple blood, and Bellatrix who was now clinging to my other arm like a deranged koala.
"Well," Morgana said, her tone shifting back to imperious command, "I believe we've overstayed our welcome on this floating disaster. Time to go." She raised one hand, dark energy already beginning to swirl. "I'll teleport us home where we can discuss"—her eyes flicked meaningfully to Raven—"everything that happened during your little cruise."
I bit my lip, glancing between Morgana, Raven (who was currently glaring at my mentor with barely suppressed jealousy), and Kara (who looked like she wanted to say something heroic about not abandoning the ship). Part of me didn't want to leave yet. This situation was an absolute mess, but I'd been enjoying the cruise despite the massacre. I'd wanted more time to explore things with Raven, more opportunities for those delicious sounds Starfire had so helpfully described to everyone.
Plus Bellatrix was still clinging to my arm, occasionally nuzzling against my shoulder while calling me her "perfect dark daughter," and I had no idea how to explain that situation to Morgana.
"Ah, you all can't leave yet."
The voice came from among the survivors—male, casual, almost amused. Everyone turned as a man stood up from where he'd been huddled with the other rescued passengers. At first glance, he looked utterly average. Brown hair, medium height, the kind of face you'd forget five seconds after seeing it.
Then his body began to shift.
Muscles rippled and expanded beneath his clothes, shoulders broadening, chest swelling with definition that hadn't been there seconds ago. His forgettable features sharpened into something devastatingly handsome—strong jaw, perfect cheekbones, lips that promised terrible wonderful things. His brown hair darkened to black, and when he opened his eyes, they burned with literal hellfire.
Raven sucked in a sharp breath beside me. "Lust,"she whispered, and the word came out like a curse.
"Hello... sister," the demon said, his voice now carrying harmonics that seemed to bypass my ears and go straight to my spine.
I blinked, pieces clicking together in my mind. This was one of Trigon's sons. Raven's brother. What the absolute hell was going on here?
Then he stepped closer, and suddenly I felt weak in the knees.
It hit like a physical wave—raw, undiluted arousal slamming into me with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. My nipples went hard instantly, straining against my shirt, and I felt myself growing wet, my pussy clenching around nothing as need pooled low in my belly. My [Major Sin of Lust] wasn't just purring—it was roaring, demanding, trying to take control.
All around me, every woman in the casino let out similar gasps. Starfire's knees buckled. One of the civilian women actually moaned. Even Raven, despite recognizing him, swayed on her feet.
"Why did that guy call you sister, Raven?" Beast Boy asked, apparently immune to whatever was happening. "And what's wrong with you all? You look like—oh. Oh no."
Morgana stepped directly in front of me and Bellatrix, both of us panting now, and her voice cut through the supernatural haze like a blade. "I'd appreciate it if you stopped whatever sex magic this is, demon. I am not amused by your parlor tricks, and I will put you down for daring to try and seduce my apprentice."
Lust laughed, the sound rich and dark and impossibly attractive despite the threat. "You'll be free to try in a moment, beautiful dark witch." His burning eyes raked over Morgana's body with undisguised hunger. "You'll fail, of course, and then I'll add you to my harem. I'll fuck your brains out until I get tired of you—which, given how exquisite you are, might take centuries." He licked his lips slowly, deliberately. "But first, I want to talk to my dear sister."
He turned that devastating smile on Raven, who was gripping a slot machine for support, her legs visibly trembling. "Long time no see, sis. Dad was super mad when you left, you know. Threw quite the tantrum. Destroyed three dimensions just venting his frustration." He spread his arms wide, gesturing at the corpse-strewn casino. "But now we've found you, and everything is going back to plan! The first stage of the ritual to summon him was a massive success!"
My lust-addled brain struggled to process what he'd just said. The first stage of the ritual? To summon Trigon to our world?
Fuck…
"The massacre," Raven muttered, letting out a small, involuntary moan as another wave of his weird and bullshit power washed over us. "The missing cruise ship passengers. The Trench attack. You orchestrated all of it."
Lust laughed again, and the sound made my thighs clench together desperately. "Guilty as charged! Do you have any idea how much death energy a thousand terrified souls generate when they're being eaten alive? It's absolutely delicious. Dad's going to be so pleased when he manifests." He winked at Raven. "He's especially excited to see you again. His favorite daughter. His portal."
The baby phoenix in my cleavage chirped in alarm, apparently sensing the wrongness of the situation even if it couldn't do anything about it. I wanted to comfort it, wanted to think clearly, but Lust's presence was making rational thought nearly impossible. Every breath brought his scent—sulfur and sex and dark promises—and my body responded whether I wanted it to or not.
"You won't succeed," Raven managed to gasp out, though her protest would have been more convincing if she wasn't actively pressing her thighs together. "I won't let you use me to—"
"Oh, sweet sister," Lust interrupted, taking another step forward. Every woman in the vicinity whimpered. "You don't have a choice. You never did. You're the gem of Scath. The portal. The doorway. And once Dad arrives..." His grin turned vicious. "Well, let's just say this massacre will look like a tea party compared to the orgy of despair that comes next."
Beast Boy and Cyborg had apparently reached their limit with watching their female teammates struggle against supernatural arousal while this demon jackass monologued about world domination.
"Man, fuck this guy," Cyborg muttered, his cannon arm powering up with that distinctive whine. "Nobody talks to Raven like that."
"Dude's about to get his demon ass kicked," Beast Boy agreed, already starting to shift, green energy rippling across his skin.
They charged simultaneously, Cyborg's cannon blazing blue-white energy, Beast Boy morphing into a massive green gorilla mid-leap.
They made it approximately three feet.
The civilian women—the ones we'd just saved, the ones who'd been cowering in terror minutes ago—suddenly threw themselves forward like living shields. A middle-aged woman in a torn cocktail dress wrapped herself around Cyborg's cannon arm. A college girl latched onto Beast Boy's massive green leg. More piled on, their eyes glazed with unnatural devotion, their voices rising in desperate protest.
"You can't hurt Lord Lust!"
"Don't you dare touch him!"
"You're not worthy to even look at him!"
Beast Boy shifted back to human form out of pure shock, a tangle of enchanted women immediately clinging to every available limb. "What the—get off! We're trying to help you!"
Cyborg was trying to gently pry the women off without hurting them, which was like trying to remove barnacles with oven mitts. "Man, they're civilians! I can't—stop grabbing my—ma'am, that's not appropriate!"
Lust's laughter echoed through the casino, rich and dark and still making my traitorous body clench with need. "Weak-minded but wonderfully loyal women like these are always nice to have around." He licked his lips slowly, his burning eyes raking over the civilians clinging to the heroes. "I'll be sure to give them each a pity fuck before consuming their souls. Consider it a reward for their devotion."
That was apparently the last straw for Kara and Starfire.
""You MONSTER!"" they roared in unison, launching themselves through the air with enough force to crack the floor where they'd been standing.
I could see the effect Lust's presence was having on them even as they fought through it—both their thighs were visibly wet beneath their short skirts, moisture actually glistening on their skin. But Kryptonians and Tamaraneans were made of stronger stuff than human civilians, and rage was apparently an excellent motivator.
Kara's heat vision lanced out, twin beams of red cutting through the air. At the same time, Starfire unleashed a barrage of green starbolts.
Lust must have been shocked they could even move, let alone attack, because both hits landed clean.
The combined force sent him flying backward, his handsome form ragdolling through the air before crashing through three slot machines in a shower of coins and sparks. The moment he was airborne, the oppressive weight of his presence lessened, like someone had finally cracked a window in a smoke-filled room.
I sucked in a desperate breath, my knees still weak but my mind finally starting to clear. The supernatural arousal didn't vanish—my [Major Sin of Lust] was still singing, still demanding satisfaction, but at least I could think past the immediate need to throw myself at the nearest warm body.
Which, given that Bellatrix was still clinging to my arm and moaning softly as she rubbed her toned body against mine, might have even been her.
Across the casino, Kara and Starfire pressed their attack. Lust had recovered quickly, his perfect features twisted in annoyance as he dodged Kara's super-speed punches and deflected Starfire's energy blasts with shields of hellfire. The three of them danced through the air in a deadly fight, their battle destroying what little remained intact in the casino.
But I barely watched. My attention had shifted to Raven.
She stood frozen near the overturned blackjack table, her chest heaving with quick, shallow breaths that had nothing to do with arousal and everything to do with pure panic. Her violet eyes were wide, unfocused, darting between her teammates like a trapped animal looking for exits. Her hands trembled at her sides, shadows flickering erratically around her fingers.
She looked like she was drowning on dry land.
I pulled free from Bellatrix's grip—she whined but didn't resist—and made my way over to Raven on unsteady legs. Each step was harder than it should have been, my body still hypersensitive from Lust's influence, but I pushed through.
Maybe she was panicking because she'd just been exposed as a half-demon to her friends. Maybe because seeing her brother brought back memories of Trigon, the abusive cosmic horror of a father who'd tried to use her as a doorway to consume Earth.
Probably both.
Definitely both.
I reached her just as her legs started to give out. Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around her from behind, pulling her back against my chest in what was meant to be a comforting hug.
We both moaned.
The contact was electric—not painful but overwhelmingly sensitive. Every point where our bodies touched sent sparks through my nervous system. Her ass pressed back against my hips. My breasts molded against her shoulder blades. Even through our clothes, I could feel her heat, smell her scent mixed with fear and unwanted arousal.
"Fuck," I gasped against her ear, trying to ignore how she shivered at my breath on her skin. "Sorry, I—the sensitivity is—"
"I know," she whispered back, her voice cracking. She was trembling in my arms, but not pulling away. "I can't—my empathy is—I'm feeling everyone's emotions and they're all terrified and aroused and I can't separate them from mine and—"
"Hey." I tightened my grip, grounding her even as it sent another wave of need through both of us. "It's going to be okay."
She let out a broken laugh that might have been a sob. "My brother just orchestrated a massacre—two massacres because I'm assuming he screwed something up with the first cruise ship. My team knows I'm a demon. I can barely stand because he's pumping sex magic into the air. Nothing about this is okay."
I pressed my lips to her temple, the gesture meant to be comforting but probably just making things worse given our current state. "Okay, fair point. It's going to be okay eventually. We're going to kill your asshole brother, stop this ritual, and then..." I paused, trying to think past the fog of lust still clouding my brain. "Then we're going to have a very long conversation about family trauma and possibly fuck each other's brains out because I really need someone to help me calm down after this."
Despite everything, she actually snorted a small laugh. "Your priorities are ridiculous."
"My priorities are perfect," I corrected, still holding her steady as another crash echoed through the casino. Lust had just been introduced to a slot machine via Kara's fist. "First we save the world. Then we fuck. Maybe not in that exclusive order. It's a very logical plan."
I felt Raven trembling in my arms. "Thank you," she whispered against my shoulder, her voice so small I almost missed it under the sound of Kara putting her fist through another slot machine—with Lust's face cushioning the impact. "For... for holding me. Even though it's making everything worse for both of us."
She wasn't wrong. Every point of contact between our bodies felt like a live wire, sending sparks of need shooting through my nervous system. My nipples were so hard they hurt, pressing against my shirt, and I could feel how wet we both were—the scent of mutual arousal mixing with blood and smoke and fear.
"Unfortunately," Raven continued, and I felt her tense even more in my arms, "the first stage to summoning Trigon requires five simultaneous massacres around the world. Five points of massive death energy released at once." She pulled back just enough to look at me, her violet eyes swimming with tears she refused to let fall. "Almost like... like the edges of a pentagram drawn across the Earth itself."
"You're saying—"
"This isn't the only massacre happening right now." Her voice cracked on the words. "While we were here playing hero on this ship, four other locations were being slaughtered. Thousands of people, maybe tens of thousands, all dying in terror at the exact same moment to fuel the ritual." She laughed, but it was bitter and broken. "We failed. The first stage is complete."
"Then we'll stop the next stages," I said with more confidence than I felt, running my hands up and down her sides in what was meant to be comforting but probably just felt sexual given our current state. Her body shuddered under my touch, a small whimper escaping her lips that went straight to my already aching core. "Whatever it takes, we'll—"
"MOTHERFUCKER!" Lust's scream cut through my attempted reassurance.
I turned us both to watch as Kara grabbed him by his perfect hair and slammed his face into the ground so hard the marble floor cracked in a spider web pattern. Before he could recover, Starfire descended like a green comet, her entire body glowing with righteous fury as she drove both knees into his spine.
The crack of breaking bones echoed through the casino.
"You dare threaten innocents with your vile intentions?" Starfire snarled, and I'd never heard the usually cheerful alien sound so absolutely murderous. She grabbed Lust by the throat, hauling him up like he weighed nothing. "You speak of consuming souls and forcing yourself upon these women who cannot consent?"
Lust tried to speak, probably to release another wave of his sex magic, but Kara's boot connected with his jaw before he could get a word out. Teeth went flying in a spray of black blood.
"That's for making me feel—" Kara cut herself off, her face flushing red even through her rage. "Just die already!"
"I cannot die, you stupid alien bitches!" Lust gurgled through his ruined mouth. "This body is just an avatar! I am a son of Trigon! I am eternal! I am—"
Kara's foot connected with his head at approximately Mach 2.
The wet snap was oddly satisfying.
His head separated from his shoulders like a golf ball off a tee, sailing across the casino to bounce off a blackjack table with a wet thud. His body remained standing for a moment, Starfire still gripping the neck stump, black blood fountaining upward in arterial spurts.
"I WILL BE BACK!" the severed head screamed from where it had rolled to a stop. "THIS ISN'T OVER! FATHER WILL—"
The head crumbled to ash mid-sentence. A second later, the body in Starfire's grip did the same, leaving her holding nothing but grey dust that slipped through her fingers.
The civilian women who'd been clinging to Beast Boy and Cyborg went limp simultaneously, unconscious but breathing. The boys carefully lowered them to the ground, both looking traumatized by the entire experience.
"Dude," Beast Boy muttered, "I am never complaining about being single again."
I was about to make a sarcastic comment about his low standards when a shiver of pure pleasure shot down my spine, so intense my knees buckled. My back arched involuntarily, a desperate moan tearing from my throat as every nerve ending in my body lit up at once.
For one panicked second, I thought Lust had already returned, that his promise had been literal and immediate.
Then I felt the grip on my tail.
When had I even manifested my tail?
I twisted my head to look behind me, and there was Morgana, her elegant fingers wrapped firmly around the base of my tail, using it like a leash. Her green eyes held that dangerous mix of possessiveness and irritation that meant I was in trouble.
My succubus features were fully exposed—wings spread from my lower back, ivory horns protruding from my disheveled hair, and that damned sensitive tail currently being used as a handle. I must have transformed instinctively during Lust's assault, my demon side responding to the supernatural arousal.
"It is time for us to go," Morgana said, her tone brooking no argument. She pulled, and I made another embarrassing sound as she literally dragged me away from Raven by my tail. Every tug sent waves of sensation straight to my core, and I could barely keep my feet under me.
"M-Morgana, please, the tail is really—fuck—sensitive right now—"
"Good." Her grip tightened deliberately, making me whimper. "Perhaps next time you'll think twice before going on a cruise without me."
Raven stumbled without my support, catching herself on an overturned slot machine. "Amara—"
"Where are we going, Amara and Future Amara?" Bellatrix bounded over, still somehow energetic despite the magical exhaustion I could see in the tremor of her hands. She was beaming at both of us like this was the best day of her life. "Oh! Will you teach me that spell that turns people inside out without even using a wand? That was magnificent, future Amara!"
Morgana looked at Bellatrix like one might look at a particularly persistent mosquito—annoyed but resigned to its existence. She sighed, her grip on my tail never loosening. "We are going back home to Gotham. For now." Her green eyes swept dismissively over the Titans. "The heroes can clean up the rest of this mess on their own."
"Wait! Amara!" Kara's voice rang out as she super-sped across the casino, still splattered with Lust's black blood. "You can't leave yet! I just got here, and—" Her blue eyes darted between Raven and me, confusion and something like hurt flickering across her face. "What did Starfire mean when she said you and Raven had sex? When did that happen? Why didn't you—I mean, not that it matters, but—"
Morgana had already raised her free hand, dark energy swirling into existence. A portal opened beside us, black as the void between stars, emanating cold that had nothing to do with temperature and everything to do with the absence of warmth itself.
"Amara, please," Raven called out, pushing herself off the slot machine. She looked wrecked—emotionally, physically, spiritually. Her team knew her secret now. Her brother had orchestrated mass murder. And I was leaving. "We need to talk about—"
"The girl needs rest," Morgana cut her off, already stepping toward the portal and dragging me with her via my tail. Each tug sent waves of pleasure-pain through my body that made coherent thought nearly impossible. "As do we all. If you heroes want to clean up the place, be my guest. But Amara comes with me."
The baby phoenix chose that moment to chirp from between my breasts, apparently protesting the rough handling. Or maybe it was saying goodbye to Raven.
"But—" Kara started forward like she was going to physically stop us, then seemed to think better of challenging Morgana directly.
"Gotham," I managed to gasp out as Morgana pulled me through the portal, the sensation of her fingers on my tail making my vision go white at the edges. "You know where to find me."
The last thing I saw before the portal swallowed us was Raven's face. Then darkness claimed us, that particular cold that only came from traveling through Morgana's magic, and we were gone.
We materialized in our Gotham safehouse—the converted warehouse that looked decrepit from the outside but was luxuriously appointed within. My legs immediately gave out, the combination of magical travel and Morgana still gripping my tail finally too much for my oversensitized body to handle.
I would have hit the floor if Morgana hadn't caught me, pulling me against her chest with my back pressed to her front. Her breasts pressed against my body through our clothes, and I could feel her heart racing despite her outward calm.
"Now then," she murmured directly into my ear, her breath hot against my skin, "would you like to explain exactly what happened with the young hero? In detail?" Her free hand came up to cup my breast through my shirt, thumb brushing over my painfully hard nipple. "Because from what that alien girl said, you gave that little half-demon something that belonged to me."
"Nothing belongs to anyone," I protested weakly, even as my body arched into her touch. "We don't own each other—"
"Don't we?" Her grip on my tail tightened, and I cried out as pleasure bordering on pain shot through every nerve ending. "You swore you'd always return to me. That I would always come first. Yet you gave your tail virginity to another witch while I wasn't there to see it? To claim it?"
Bellatrix had wandered over to the kitchen area, humming to herself as she rummaged through cabinets. "Don't mind me!" she called out cheerfully. "Just making tea while my daughters sort out their lover's quarrel! Or is it a sisterly quarrel? Time travel makes these things so confusing!"
"We're not—" Morgana started, then gave up with a sigh. "That woman is completely insane."
"She's Bellatrix Lestrange," I managed between gasps as Morgana continued her assault on my senses. "Voldemort's most faithful. She thinks I'm her daughter because... long story... and now she's apparently adopted you too?" I whispered.
"I don't have time for adopted mothers or Dark Lords or any of this nonsense," Morgana growled, spinning me around to face her. Her green eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them, pupils blown wide with a mixture of anger and arousal. "Five massacres. A ritual to summon Trigon the Terrible. You fucking another witch with your tail. That demon trying to seduce you with his pathetic magic." She pressed me against the wall, our bodies flush together. "I leave you alone to go visit your horrid family for a few days and everything goes crazy without me keeping you safe..."
The baby phoenix chirped indignantly from where it was squished between our breasts.
We both looked down at the tiny bird, and some of the tension bled out of Morgana's shoulders. "And you bonded with a Dark Phoenix. Of course you did." She pulled back slightly, giving my familiar room to breathe. "You never do anything halfway, do you?"
"Would you want me to?" I asked, finally catching my breath now that she'd released my tail. It swayed behind me, still oversensitive but no longer being actively tormented.
"No," she admitted, reaching up to trace one of my horns with a fingertip. "But we're going to have a very long discussion about boundaries and communication and not taking luxury cruises that turn into massacre sites without telling me first."
"To be fair," I pointed out, "I didn't know it would turn into a massacre site when I boarded."
"That's not the point and you know it." But she was smiling now, that dangerous, possessive smile that made my stomach flutter. "You're mine, Amara. Not exclusively—I'm not naive enough to think I can keep a succubus to myself—but primarily. Fundamentally. And I don't appreciate others touching what's mine without my permission."
Of course, as if the universe itself wanted to challenge Morgana's possessive words, two sets of soft footsteps came hurrying down the stairs.
"Amara! You're finally back!"
I turned toward the voices, and immediately my face burst into flames. Daphne and Astoria Greengrass were practically flying down the stairs, and they were wearing... fuck. They were wearing lingerie. Not just any lingerie—sheer white lace that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. I could see everything through the delicate fabric. Daphne's pale pink nipples, already hard from the cool air or excitement. The neat triangle of blonde curls between Astoria's thighs. The way the material clung to their curves like it had been painted on.
They crashed into me simultaneously, soft bodies pressing against mine from both sides, arms wrapping around me in an enthusiastic tangle. The silk and lace felt like nothing between us. I could feel every curve, every bit of warm skin, the way they both trembled slightly with excitement.
"We were so worried!" Astoria breathed against my neck, her voice high and sweet. "Morgana said you went to confront your horrible family and we didn't know if—"
"If you'd come back injured or upset or—" Daphne interrupted, pressing closer, her breasts squishing against my arm through that criminally thin fabric.
I shot a desperate look at Morgana over their blonde heads, silently asking why the fuck are they dressed like this?
She leaned against the wall with the most self-satisfied smirk I'd ever seen on her face, arms crossed under her breasts. "What? I had to entertain myself somehow while you were off having adventures without me." Her green eyes glinted with wicked amusement. "They were very eager students. We've been practicing all sorts of... educational activities."
My brain short-circuited trying to process what she meant by 'educational activities' while the Greengrass sisters were still clinging to me in their barely-there lingerie.
"Did you burn down the Potter Manor like Morgana said?" Astoria asked eagerly, pulling back just enough to look at me with those big blue eyes. "She said you probably set the whole place on fire and we've been taking bets on whether you used Fiendfyre or—"
She stopped mid-sentence, her gaze fixing on something behind me. Daphne went rigid against my other side.
"Would anyone like some tea?" Bellatrix's cheerful voice cut through the moment. She'd wandered over to the ornate tea service on the side table and was already pouring herself a cup from the enchanted pot. "Nothing like a good cuppa after a massacre, I always say!"
The Greengrass sisters pulled back from me slowly, finally registering that someone new was in our safehouse. Someone whose voice they clearly recognized. They turned in unison, and I watched the blood drain from both their faces.
"Bellatrix Lestrange!" Daphne gasped, instinctively stepping backward and trying to cover herself with her arms, not that it helped much given how little she was wearing.
"What is she doing here?!" Astoria squeaked, pressing herself against her sister's side, her eyes wide with genuine terror.
"Bellatrix Lestrange!" they gasped in perfect unison, voices pitched high with shock. "What is she doing here?!"
"Making tea, obviously," Bellatrix replied, setting down her cup with a delicate clink. She tilted her head, studying the sisters with those unsettling dark eyes, and I could see the exact moment recognition dawned on her face. "Oh! The Greengrass girls!" She tilted her head. "How fascinating. Not even the Dark Lord knows where you've been hiding. He's been ever so interested in using you as leverage against your father." She took a sip of tea, pinky extended in a mockery of proper etiquette. "He'll be thrilled when I tell him—oh wait." She frowned, then brightened again. "I'm not telling him anything! I'm a traitor now. Yes—nevermind me then and carry on…"
Daphne and Astoria were justifiably very confused and I figured there was going to be a long story telling time before this night ended.
– Kara –
Kara Zor-El, Last Daughter of Krypton, was absolutely not pouting as she watched the portal close behind Amara's perfect ass.
She'd flown here at nearly her maximum speed—pushed herself hard enough that her muscles actually ached, something that rarely happened to a Kryptonian under a yellow sun. She'd punched through the hull of a cruise ship, turned hundreds of those disgusting fish-monsters into paste, helped save all these civilians, and killed a demon.
And right when she wanted to celebrate their victory together, Amara got dragged off… by her tail. Her actual demon tail. Because apparently Amara was part succubus, which Kara was trying very hard not to think about in detail because every time she did, her mind went to very unheroic places.
Yes, she had spent a lot of time on Earth's internet.
It was so much better than the constantly monitored and censored one back on Krypton…
Kara grabbed some decorative towels from what had once been a fancy bar and tried to wipe the worst of the gore off herself. The blood came off easily enough, but the smell seemed to cling.
Her super hearing picked up Starfire's voice from across the room, where she was having what sounded like an earnest conversation with Raven.
"—does not matter to me that you are part demon, Friend Raven! You are still my dearest friend and I love you most sincerely!"
"Star, please, you don't have to—"
"No! I must express my feelings! Your demonic heritage changes nothing! Just as Friend Amara being a sex demon changes nothing! You are both wonderful!"
Kara floated over, trying to look casual and not like she'd been eavesdropping. Which she had been. But that was just a hazard of super hearing, she heard everything whether she wanted to or not.
"I don't care that you or Amara are demons either," Kara said as she approached, keeping her voice gentle. Raven flinched slightly at her approach, violet eyes darting up with obvious wariness. The half-demon looked exhausted, emotionally wrung out from everything that had happened. "Thank you," Raven said quietly, and there was genuine surprise in her voice. "People on... other worlds have not been nearly as kind when they discovered what I am."
Kara's heart clenched a little at that. She knew what it was like to be different.
Sure, on Earth she could pass for human, but she'd never forget those first few months after arriving—trying to control her strength, her hearing, her vision. Breaking doorknobs, shattering windows, accidentally looking through people's clothes before she learned to control her x-ray vision.
That last one had actually been kind of fun… Not that she'd ever admit it openly.
"So what should we do now?" Kara asked, desperate to change the subject before her mind wandered back to accidentally seeing through clothes and then deliberately not using that power on Amara even though she really, really wanted to every time she saw her. "For some reason Cyborg said the League still isn't responding. That includes the Atlanteans too, which is weird since we're literally in their territory."
Raven straightened, visibly pulling herself together. "We get these civilians to the nearest port safely. That's the priority."
"And then we visit Gotham!" Starfire announced, practically bouncing despite the gore coating her outfit.
Kara raised an eyebrow. "What do you want in Gotham?"
Please don't say Amara, she thought desperately. Please don't say—
"I wish to see Friend Amara again!" Starfire declared with enthusiasm that seemed wildly inappropriate given they were standing in a massacre site. "She made the sex with Friend Raven and it was most wonderful to watch! I would very much like to try it with her as well!"
"God damn it," Kara grumbled under her breath. Why did that sexy raven-haired witch seem to attract everyone's attention? She shot Raven a jealous look that she immediately felt bad about. It wasn't Raven's fault she'd gotten to Amara first. Well, actually it was, but—
"You're not doing that!" Raven snapped at Starfire, her gray cheeks flushing purple. "Amara isn't some... some toy to be passed around!"
"But Friend Raven," Starfire whined, and actually whined, like a child denied candy, "we are best friends! And on Tamaran, best friends share everything! It is, as you say on Earth, caring is sharing!"
"That's 'sharing is caring,'" Raven corrected automatically.
"Yes! That!" Starfire beamed, then turned those big green eyes on Kara. "Will you also be joining us, Friend Kara? I'm certain Amara would enjoy having all three of us at once! She seems most vigorous!"
Kara's brain completely short-circuited.
"I—you—what—that's not—" She could feel her face burning red. The mental image of all four of them together was—no. No, she was not thinking about that. She was a hero. Heroes didn't fantasize about foursomes with villains' apprentices. Even if said apprentice had perfect breasts and gorgeous green eyes and had looked really good covered in monster blood and—
"We are NOT having an orgy with Amara!" Raven shouted, her voice cracking. Shadows flickered around her wildly, responding to her emotional state.
"Why not?" Starfire asked with genuine confusion. "She is beautiful, you clearly enjoyed the mating, and I believe Friend Kara and Friend Dick would also like to participate. It would be most efficient! It would be a good way to make it up to him and apologize as well. I want all my friends back and to be fully of the happiness again!"
Beast Boy chose that moment to wander over in bloodhound form, took one look at their faces, immediately shifted back to human, and said, "Nope, whatever this conversation is, I want no part of it," before turning into a pigeon and flying away.
Smart boy.
"Look," Raven said, pinching the bridge of her nose, "can we please focus on getting these people to safety before discussing... whatever this is?"
"It's a harem," Starfire said brightly. "I learned that word from the internet!"
"It's not a—" Raven started. "Can we please," Raven said through gritted teeth, "have this discussion when we're not standing in a room full of corpses?"
That was a fair point. "Right," Kara said, forcing herself back into hero mode. "Civilians first. Then we can discuss the... the other things."
(R-18 Start)
– Amara –
I found myself back on Morgana's bed after what felt like weeks but had only been days. The black silk sheets were cool against my overheated skin, a blessed relief after everything—the massacre, Lust's supernatural arousal attack, Morgana dragging me through that portal by my fucking tail like I was a misbehaving pet.
I was completely naked on my back, my succubus features fully on display. My wings were spread beneath me, the membrane sensitive where it pressed against the sheets. My ivory horns caught the candlelight, and my tail... my treacherous, oversensitive tail was draped across the bed, twitching occasionally like a cat's might when agitated.
Morgana knelt between my legs, also gloriously naked, and I let my eyes rake lustfully over every inch of her. It was still surreal sometimes, looking at her. She had my face—or I had hers, technically. The same raven hair that spilled over her shoulders like liquid midnight. The same vivid green eyes that could go from tender to terrifying in a heartbeat. The same full breasts that I couldn't stop staring at, topped with dusty pink nipples already hard with arousal.
"You know," she said, reaching out to grab my tail near the base, making me gasp and arch off the bed, "I'm still rather upset about this."
She stroked along its length slowly, deliberately, and I had to bite my lip to keep from moaning. The sensitivity hadn't decreased at all since the cruise ship. If anything, being in Morgana's presence, in her bed, naked and vulnerable, was making it worse.
"I already told you what happened," I managed between shaky breaths. "Every detail during story time." And I had. After we'd sent Daphne and Astoria to bed (both sisters shooting me longing looks as they went), and after Morgana had somehow convinced Bellatrix that no, she wasn't future-Amara and yes, she really did need to sleep in a separate room, I'd told Morgana everything. The encounter with Raven. How my tail had acted on instinct. The strange fluid it had produced. How I'd gained new abilities from it.
Morgana hummed thoughtfully, her fingers still working my tail in slow, torturous strokes. "Yes, you were very thorough in your confession. Almost like you were proud of it." Her free hand came up to trace patterns on my inner thigh, and I shivered.
"I didn't exactly plan it," I protested weakly. "It just... happened. Instinct took over and—"
"Shh." She pressed a finger to my lips, silencing me. "I understand. You're a succubus. Your body knows things your mind hasn't learned yet." Her eyes raked over me again, lingering on my breasts, my flat stomach, the space between my thighs where I was already very wet. "But you know what's wonderful about being what you are?"
I shook my head, not trusting my voice.
Morgana's lips curved into that wicked smile that made my insides clench. "You have so many different virginities to give." She leaned down, her breath hot against my ear. "And tonight, I'll be claiming one of them."
Before I could process what she meant, she grabbed my hips and flipped me over like I weighed nothing. I let out an undignified squeak as I found myself face-down in the pillows, my ass in the air, completely exposed to her hungry gaze.
"Morgana, what are you—"
Her hands were on my ass immediately, kneading the flesh. She spread my cheeks apart, examining me with an intensity that made my face burn. I felt so exposed, so vulnerable, so desperately turned on.
"Perfect," she murmured, and I felt her shift on the bed behind me. "So lovely."
"Are you seriously—oh fuck!"
The first touch of her tongue against my asshole short-circuited my brain. Wet and warm and completely unexpected. I'd read about this in some of the more adventurous books Sirius had hidden in his library, but experiencing it was something else entirely.
"Language, darling," Morgana said with a laugh, pulling back just enough to speak. "Though I suppose I'll allow it given the circumstances." She spread me wider, and I buried my face in the pillow to muffle my moans. "You know, I'm so glad we won't be interrupted by some idiotic house elf this time."
The memory of Flipsy appearing during our last attempt at intimacy made me laugh despite my current position. "I killed that elf, by the way. When I visited the Potters."
"Good girl." She rewarded me with another long lick that made my wings flutter involuntarily. "Always tying up loose ends."
I glanced backward, trying to see what she was doing, and my eyes went wide. Morgana was kneeling behind me, and between her thighs, rising from just above her pink pussy lips, was a cock.
It was the first one I'd ever seen in person, even if it was clearly magical—more like a flesh-colored dildo that had been seamlessly attached to her body. Pale and smooth, probably seven inches long and thick enough to make me nervous.
She noticed me staring and smirked. "Transfiguration and flesh-shaping magic combined," she explained, wrapping her hand around it and stroking slowly. She moaned at the touch, and I realized with a start that she could actually feel it. "Magically linked to my nervous system. Every sensation transfers directly." Another stroke, another moan. "I've been wanting to try this with you for so long."
"That's... actually really impressive magic," I admitted, my academic side briefly overriding my arousal. "The nerve mapping alone must have taken—"
She spit directly onto the magical cock, using her hand to spread the saliva along its length, and my brain went offline again. "Less talking, more moaning," she commanded, pressing the tip against my asshole.
The first push was intense. Not painful, exactly—my succubus body was apparently designed for this kind of thing—but overwhelming. The stretch as the head breached that tight ring of muscle made me gasp and clutch at the sheets.
"Breathe," Morgana instructed, one hand rubbing soothing circles on my lower back while the other held her cock steady. "That's it. Just relax and let me in."
Inch by torturous inch, she pushed inside me. I could feel every ridge, every vein that she'd thoughtfully included in her transfiguration. My tail whipped back and forth frantically until she grabbed it again, using it as leverage to push deeper.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I chanted into the pillow, my entire body trembling. It was so much. The fullness, the stretch, the way she was in complete control. And through it all, that constant pleasure-pain from her grip on my tail, sending sparks through my nervous system.
"Such a good girl," Morgana purred once she was fully seated inside me. "Taking all of me so well. I knew you would." She stayed still for a moment, letting me adjust, and I could hear her panting behind me. "God, you're tight. I can feel everything through this."
"Please," I whimpered, not even sure what I was begging for. "Morgana, please..."
"Please what?" She pulled back slowly, and I nearly screamed at the sensation. "Use your words, darling."
"Please fuck me!" The words tore from my throat, all dignity abandoned. "I need you to move, to—ah!"
She slammed back in without warning, and my vision went white. Then she set a rhythm—slow at first, letting me feel every inch as she withdrew and thrust back in. Her magical cock seemed to pulse inside me, responding to her arousal, and I could hear her moans mixing with mine.
"Mine," she growled, picking up speed. "This is mine. You're mine. Say it."
"Yours!" I cried out, my wings spreading wide as the pleasure built. "I'm yours, Morgana, always yours!"
The baby phoenix, who had been sleeping peacefully on the nightstand, chirped in alarm at all the noise. We both froze for a moment, then burst out laughing.
"Even your familiar has terrible timing," Morgana said, but she was smiling as she said it. The phoenix settled back down, apparently deciding we weren't in actual danger.
She resumed her thrusts, angling differently now, and suddenly she hit something inside me that made me see stars. I didn't even know I could feel pleasure there, but apparently my succubus anatomy had some surprises.
"There it is," she said with satisfaction, targeting that spot repeatedly. "Did you know succubi have additional nerve clusters specifically for anal pleasure? I've been reading some fascinating ancient texts."
I wanted to make some sarcastic comment about her research habits, but all that came out was a long, desperate moan as Morgana's hips snapped forward again, driving her magical cock deep into my ass with a force that made the headboard slam against the wall. My fingers twisted desperately in the black silk sheets, trying to find something to anchor myself as wave after wave of overwhelming sensation crashed through me.
"Fuck, Amara," Morgana groaned behind me, her voice rough with pleasure and exertion. "You're so tight. Your ass is gripping me like it never wants to let go." She punctuated her words with another thrust that had me seeing stars. "I can feel every clench, every flutter of your muscles around my cock. The magic is translating everything perfectly."
I couldn't form words to respond. All that escaped my throat were desperate, broken moans as she continued her relentless pace. The stretch burned in the most delicious way, that fine line between pain and pleasure that my succubus body seemed specifically designed to crave. Every thrust pushed me further into the mattress, my breasts swaying beneath me, my wings spread wide and trembling.
Morgana's hands roamed possessively over my ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh like she was trying to memorize every curve. "Look at you," she purred, spreading my cheeks wider to watch her cock disappear inside me. "Taking me so well. Like you were made for this. Made for me."
Her fingernails dragged down my spine, leaving trails of fire that made my back arch involuntarily. The new angle made her cock hit that spot inside me that she'd found earlier, that cluster of nerves that apparently existed specifically to destroy my sanity. I screamed into the pillow, my pussy clenching around nothing, desperately empty while my ass was so perfectly full.
"That's it," Morgana encouraged, her rhythm never faltering. "Let me hear you. Let everyone in this building know who you belong to."
Then her hand found my tail once again. The moment her fingers wrapped around the sensitive appendage, my entire world exploded into sensation. It was like she'd grabbed a live wire connected directly to every nerve ending in my body. Pleasure shot through me so intensely that my vision whited out, my wings flaring wide, my mouth falling open in a silent scream.
Morgana laughed, dark and triumphant, using my tail like a handle to pull me back onto her cock with even more force. She picked up the pace, her hips slamming into my ass with supernatural strength.
The sound of skin against skin echoed through the room, mixing with our moans and the creak of the bed frame protesting the assault. Her magical cock felt like it was growing harder inside me, pulsing with her arousal, and I could hear her breath coming in ragged gasps.
"I'm close," she warned, though it sounded more like a promise than a warning. "Going to fill this perfect ass with my cum. Would you like that, darling?"
"Yes!" I managed to cry out, my voice wrecked and desperate. "Please, Morgana, I need—I need—"
"I know what you need." She yanked on my tail hard, pulling me back to meet her thrust, and simultaneously reached around with her free hand to find my clit! She did that over and over again.
Plap. Plap. Plap. Plap.
The orgasm hit me like a magical shockwave. I screamed, really screamed, the sound probably audible three blocks away despite the warehouse's soundproofing. My entire body convulsed, wings spreading to their full span, tail thrashing in Morgana's grip. My pussy clenched around nothing and then, to my complete surprise, I squirted. Hard.
The clear fluid splattered against my thighs, soaking the sheets beneath me as my body completely lost control. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed through me, each one triggered by Morgana still pounding into my ass, still pulling on my tail, drawing out my orgasm until I thought I might actually pass out.
I screamed, really screamed, my voice probably carrying through the walls as every muscle in my body locked up! My ass clamped down on Morgana's cock like a vice, my pussy gushed, soaking the sheets beneath me. My wings spread to their full span, quivering as waves of pleasure rolled through me, each one more intense than the last.
Behind me, Morgana let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a roar. I felt her cock pulse inside me, growing impossibly harder for a moment before—
"Fuck, Amara, FUCK—"
Hot liquid spurted deep inside my ass, rope after rope of magically-created cum flooding my insides. I could feel each pulse, each twitch of her cock as she emptied herself into me. She continued thrusting through her orgasm, pushing her cum deeper, and the sensation of being so thoroughly filled sent aftershocks of pleasure rippling through my oversensitive body.
We stayed like that for several moments, both of us panting, trembling, trying to remember how to breathe. I could feel Morgana's cum inside me, hot and thick, marking me exactly as she'd promised. My tail had gone limp in her grip, too sensitive now to handle any more stimulation.
Finally, carefully, she pulled out. The sensation of her pulling out was almost as intense as going in had been. I could feel myself trying to clench, to keep her inside, but she was already gone, leaving me empty and dripping with her magical cum.
I collapsed forward onto the bed, no longer able to support myself on my shaking arms. Everything hurt in the best way possible. My ass throbbed with a pleasant soreness that would probably last hours. My tail was so sensitive that even the air moving across it made me shiver. My pussy was still occasionally clenching with aftershocks.
Morgana collapsed beside me, her magical cock already fading as the transfiguration reversed itself. She pulled me against her, both of us sweaty and satisfied, and pressed kisses to my shoulder.
"Mine," she murmured against my skin, sounding deeply satisfied. "Completely, thoroughly mine."
I wanted to make some sarcastic comment about possessiveness, but all I could manage was a contented hum as I burrowed deeper into her embrace. My ass ached in the best way, I could still feel her cum inside me, and my tail was so oversensitive that even the brush of the sheets made me shiver.
The baby phoenix chirped from the nightstand, apparently checking if we were done being loud.
"Go back to sleep," I told it weakly. "Mommy's had a very long day."
Morgana laughed against my neck, her arms tightening around me. "Mommy?"
"Shut up. I'm delirious from one of the weirdest and sexiest days of my life."
"Only the weirdest and sexiest so far," she promised, and despite my exhaustion, my traitorous succubus body stirred with interest.
I turned in her arms to face her, taking in her flushed cheeks, her mussed hair, the satisfied gleam in those green eyes that matched mine so perfectly.
"I love you," I said.
"And I love you, my darling apprentice," she said, pulling me in for a kiss that was surprisingly gentle after what we'd just done. "More than I've loved anything in centuries." She then paused for a second, "Even more than I ever cared for—"
(R-18 End)
– Batman –
The Watchtower's main conference room maintained its usual sterile efficiency. Holographic displays casting pale blue light across titanium walls, the massive viewport revealing Earth's curve below, that particular silence that came from existing in the vacuum of space.
Batman stood at the head of the table, his cape pooled around him, watching the other League members process the information he'd just delivered.
His report had been thorough. Meticulous. Every detail of the London investigation laid out with the precision he'd built his reputation on.
The discovery of an entire shadow government of wizards manipulating Britain from behind a veil of memory charms and mind control. The corruption that ran so deep even their law enforcement—this "Department of Magical Law Enforcement"—thought nothing of murdering innocent witnesses. The British Prime Minister, enslaved by an Imperius Curse that had nearly overwritten his soul itself.
"The mental domination was particularly insidious," Zatanna added from her seat, her usually playful demeanor subdued by exhaustion. She'd spent the better part of six hours unweaving the magical chains wrapped around the Prime Minister's psyche. "Whoever cast it—this Amelia Bones—she didn't just control his actions. She made him want to obey. Made hunting down Duchess Amara Black feel like his life's purpose." Her fingers traced arcane patterns in the air absently as she spoke, a nervous habit Batman had noticed she'd developed after particularly draining magical work. "His sense of self was already beginning to fragment."
"That's horrible," Barry Allen—The Flash—muttered, his fingers drumming against the table at speeds that would have been invisible to normal human perception. Even sitting still, the Scarlet Speedster vibrated with barely contained energy. "Mind control is just... it's violation on the deepest level. Taking away someone's free will, their ability to choose..."
Superman's jaw tightened, a micro-expression Batman cataloged automatically. Clark had always harbored a particular hatred for mental manipulation—understandable, given how many of his rogues gallery specialized in it…
Bruce had lost count of how many times they'd had to deal with Clark under some form of mental manipulation. Each time left the Kryptonian shaken for weeks afterward.
"The thought of an entire government apparatus built on that kind of control..." Superman shook his head, disgust evident in every line of his body.
Batman nodded, already anticipating where this discussion would lead. The evidence was damning. They had proof of systematic human rights violations, memory modification of civilians on a massive scale, and now attempted murder of foreign nationals and royalty through mind-controlled proxies. Any one of these would warrant League intervention.
Together, they painted a picture of corruption that demanded action.
"Which brings us to the question at hand," Batman said, his voice carrying that particular gravitas he reserved for critical decisions. "Do we intervene directly? Take down the Ministry of Magic ourselves? Or do we continue to assess, gather more intelligence before acting?" He pulled up holographic displays with practiced gestures—organizational charts of the Ministry's structure, maps of hidden magical enclaves across Britain, rough estimates of the magical population. Data scrolled past in neat columns, painting a picture of a complex society existing parallel to the mundane world. "Their government controls them through a combination of tradition, surveillance, and liberal use of memory modification on anyone who steps out of line. The few who resist tend to disappear into their prison—Azkaban—or simply vanish entirely."
Wonder Woman leaned forward, her expression thoughtful. "I want to ask that as well? Do we intervene directly? Expose them to the world? Or..." She paused, and Batman noticed the strangest thing.
Her eyes flashed red. Just for a moment, barely perceptible, like a reflection of light that shouldn't have been there.
"Hm...I think we should continue to assess the situation," Diana continued smoothly. "It doesn't seem like it's that big of a deal. Europe has managed its own affairs for centuries. They can sort this out themselves."
For some reason, Batman found himself nodding in agreement.
"That's what I was thinking as well." The words came out of his mouth automatically, and somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice whispered that this wasn't right. Batman didn't wait and assess when civilians were being mind-controlled. Batman acted. Batman protected.
But the thought slipped away like water through his fingers as his own eyes flashed red for just an instant.
"Right," he heard himself say with absolute certainty. "Europe will work it out themselves. The League has more important things to deal with."
Around the table, the other members nodded in unison. Superman's expression had gone oddly blank, his usual passionate concern for innocent people nowhere to be seen. "Makes sense," he said flatly. "Not our jurisdiction."
Flash, who moments ago had been vibrating with indignation about mind control, now sat perfectly still. "Yeah, totally. Let them handle their own magical problems."
Green Lantern, who hadn't even spoken during the briefing, suddenly stood up. "Meeting adjourned then? I've got sector patrol."
"Meeting adjourned," Batman confirmed, even though he was certain—wasn't he?—that they'd planned to discuss countermeasures, protection protocols, ways to shield themselves from magical mind control now that they knew it existed.
A screen on the wall suddenly blazed to life, cutting through the strange fog that seemed to have settled over the room. The emergency alert system—Cyborg's personal distress signal—screamed across the display in angry red letters. But that wasn't all. Multiple alerts cascaded down the screen like a digital waterfall of catastrophe.
MASSACRE IN MUMBAI - 500+ CASUALTIESTRIBAL SLAUGHTER IN AMAZON RAINFOREST - DEATH TOLL UNKNOWNMASS EXECUTION IN CAIRO - HUNDREDS DEADCRUISE SHIP ATTACK - ATLANTIC OCEAN - SEVERE CASUALTIES
"Seems like a lot of activity tonight," Diana observed, her tone strangely casual for someone watching death tolls climb in real-time.
"The respective governments will manage," Superman said with disturbing nonchalance. His face, usually so expressive with empathy for human suffering, remained placid. Unconcerned. "We can't respond to every crisis."
Yes we can, Batman's true thoughts screamed from some locked box in his mind. That's literally why we formed the League. To respond to exactly these kinds of coordinated supernatural attacks. But the scream was muffled, distant, like hearing someone yell underwater. The dominant thought, the one that felt real and immediate and unquestionably his own, was that this wasn't their problem.
"Cyborg and the Titans are already handling the cruise ship situation," Barry pointed out, gesturing at the first alert. His words came out measured, calm, completely at odds with his usual rapid-fire speech pattern. "They don't need our help."
"And the other locations..." J'onn mused, his mental presence radiating that same unnatural calm, "appear to be isolated incidents. Tragic, but not connected. No pattern to suggest a larger threat."
FIVE POINTS OF A PENTAGRAM, Batman's actual detective instincts shrieked. RITUAL MAGIC. SUMMONING CIRCLE ON A GLOBAL SCALE. THOUSANDS DYING TO FUEL SOMETHING.
But the thoughts couldn't find purchase, sliding off the artificial certainty that everything was fine like rain off a windshield.
"Then we're agreed," Batman heard himself say, his voice carrying the usual gravel of authority even as some part of him writhed in confusion. "We maintain observation only. No direct intervention."
"The League has more important matters to focus on," Wonder Woman agreed.
Superman stood up, stretching casually as if hundreds of people weren't dying at that very moment. "I'm going to go have lunch with Lois. She's making lasagna." His eyes blazed red for three full seconds and he twitched as if struggling before he settled again. His expression was perfectly serene.
"Sounds good, Clark," Flash said, already heading for the door. "I'm gonna go binge-watch that new show everyone's talking about. The one about the cooking competition."
One by one, the Justice League filed out of the conference room, each moving with an eerie casualness that should have set off every alarm in Batman's hypervigilant mind. These were heroes who would normally race to save a single person in danger, now dismissing hundreds of deaths as irrelevant.
Batman remained at the table, staring at the emergency alerts that continued to pour in. Some distant part of his consciousness—the part that had trained for decades to resist mental manipulation, that had backup protocols and contingency plans for every scenario—screamed that something was catastrophically wrong.
But then his eyes flashed red again, and the concern evaporated like morning mist.
"Computer," he said calmly, "dismiss all alerts. Mark as handled by local authorities."
"Confirmation required," the Watchtower's AI responded. "These alerts indicate extreme loss of life requiring immediate League response."
"Confirmed," Batman said without hesitation. "Dismiss all alerts."
The screens went dark.
Batman stood in the empty conference room, his shadow stretching long across the floor in the artificial light. For just a moment—a fraction of a second—his hand moved toward his utility belt, toward the emergency beacon that would recall the entire League. His fingers brushed the device.
Then his hand fell away. "More important matters," he muttered to himself, though if anyone had asked him what those matters were, he wouldn't have been able to answer. "Always more important matters..."
XXX
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