Diana Does Diplomacy

"You ask them."

"No, you ask them!"

"Man without fear my ass!" Wally swore.

"That's another guy," Kyle said pedantically. "Doesn't even wear green..."

"Do you have fear or don't you? Wait, isn't this in your slogan or something? You have great fear?"

"I can overcome fear—"

"You have great fear to overcome?"

"I overcome fear greatly."

"So what if you're just a chickenshit and you're really scared of, like, a dog? Does that count as much as someone who's only really scared of Darkseid, but fights him anyway?"

"I'm gonna tell Hal on you, you don't shut up."

"Tell him you're not overcoming any fear! He'll love that!"

"I don't see you asking them!"

"Fine, I will. But if I do, do I get a power ring? I should get a power ring, if I'm braver than a Green Lantern."

"I still don't see you asking them."

"I mean, G'nort has a power ring. If he has one, I should have one."

Straightening his cowl by the wings, Wally zipped over to Superman and Wonder Woman before he had time to think better of it. They were standing at the Watchtower's monitoring station, double-checking each other's work, and in close proximity to each other too. Maybe it was just that, as such good friends, they were comfortable that way. Wally was a married man, and he was comfortable with Kyle giving him a noogie, or Donna jumping on his back.

Then again, if he were single, and if Donna had that bit of grace and maturity and hinted experience that separated the younger Amazon's gorgeousness from Diana's downright impossible beauty—and if he looked like Clark, who looked like a damn romance novel cover and talked like the most sensitive guy on one of Linda's medical shows...

"Hey guys!" Wally called valiantly, stopping with his arms around both their shoulders. "So, you going out now?"

"We just got here," Diana said, vaguely confused.

"Uh, Diana..." Clark started.

"I mean, are you together?"

"Yes, of course. In fact, I see no reason for this team to ever break up, at least not in the foreseeable future."

"But are you dating?" Wally insisted.

"Well, the minerals in our bodies could be said to be dating, I suppose, but I'm immortal and I do believe the solar-nuclear process that gives Kal his powers will continue indefinitely."

Wally looked at Diana's stoic, but good-humored expression and decided never to play poker with her. "You're screwing with me, aren't you?"

"No, I'm screwing Kal." She took his hand. "We're lovers."

Clark rolled his eyes. "She gets like this."

"I knew it!" Kyle called, running over. "Called it! Totally nailed this one!"

"Yeah?" Wally challenged. "Then why didn't you ask?"

Kyle crossed his arms. "Because it really isn't League business, Wally. What two members do in their personal lives is none of our affair."

"You son of a—"

Kyle's ring flashed and a green gag appeared around Wally's mouth. "So what do you two do? What do you even talk about?"

"Kryptonian culture," Clark said.

"The Amazon way," Diana said.

Wally shook his way out of the gag. "Kyle, would you stop! If you're going to grill them, you could at least ask some real questions." He looked at Diana. "So, what, do you have lunch on other planets? Travel into the future to watch holographic movies?"

"Is... something wrong with lunch here?"

"Or movies today?"

Wally buzzed his hand dismissively. "Everything's another Paranormal Activity movie or something to do with superheroes."

"You don't like superheroes?" Kyle asked.

"Well, none of the movies are aboutme? I've never heard of half the guys getting movies—you think they're in the Doom Patrol or something?"

Clark patted Wally on the shoulder. "We have lunch. And dinner. Breakfast, even. And we do watch movies."

"But what do you guysdo?" Wally persisted. "I mean, you two, how do you evenwork?"

"We do occasionally work together," Diana said, eyes moving wonderingly upward.

"Rescue work, crimefighting, the occasional joint speaking engagement when it wouldn't distract from the relevant issue too much..."

"And I've been teaching Kal to spar," Diana added.

"You probably do that more than the speaking engagements," Wally noted. Kyle manifested a green elbow to nudge him in the ribs.

"I think what Wally means," Kyle said, "is what do you do forfun? Not learning about each other's heritage or being good superheroes or anything like that. What do you do that you would be doing if you were only Clark Kent and Diana Prince?"

Diana and Clark looked at each other in confusion.

"Is he talking about se—" Diana began, when Clark spoke over her.

"Thatis fun for us. Helping people, learning about Diana's culture—"

"Sparring," Wally added. Two green elbows nudged him.

"It is very, very enriching," Diana nodded.

"Illuminating."

"Educational."

Wally and Kyle nodded along. "So, I think Batman wants to lecture me about something—"

"I have to check in with the Guardians of the Universe."

"We went to the past, once, actually," Clark said, sensing he was losing his audience.

"Yeah," Wally said, "that's Batman calling..."

"You never know, the Guardians might have some important news about Parallax... or something..."

Wally, being known for his fast-paced everything, was able to speed off with complete innocence. Kyle flew away, not at top speed, but defiantly not looking back.

"We're not that boring, are we?" Clark asked.

"Well... maybe we could loosen up a little," Diana commiserated. "Have you considered sparring with actual weapons?"

"On a similar note," Clark said hurriedly, "have you ever been to London?"

***

It was almost 1 A.M. in Club Fievel, but the lights were bright as the dawn when they weren't strobing to black. The dance floor was crowded, swollen with a jostling of legs and hips and hands that couldn't help but be erotic. The music played so loud it was felt more than heard, rattling in their bones, bringing the flesh along for the ride. Up above, girls grinded on catwalks, the grated floors allowing an easy view up their skirts. And they inevitably wore skirts.

Clark was surprised Diana seemed to enjoy it so much. She'd been dancing nonstop for almost three hours now. They'd discussed it intellectually—she loved dancing, saw it as an extension of the martial prowess in her body, a homage to her gods and her heritage just as her sparring was. She had far less opportunity to pay tribute to Apollo, one of her patron gods, and she relished the opportunity. But seeing her in motion, Clark could tell that she loved the act in and of itself. It was making her feel alive. Sexual. It was releasing all the urges and frustrations she held stoically behind her grace and maturity, in a way that combat never could.

Even there, she exercised some control, keeping herself in check. She let herself go her as she did nowhere else, sensuously writhing her hips in their tightly hugging jeans, hands running up and down her body, moving with the rhythmic abandon of a belly dancer, on the verge of frenzy with only the dance beat holding her back.

Clark stood watching, his eyes big and round behind their glasses. The very long, very powerful legs of his date moved serpentine as she turned and danced slowly with a lull in the music. He could see her ass tense and relax, drawing the eye only to deny it with a swift turn or a hip-wagging dance move.

Despite the ease Diana always imbued him with, he still felt uncomfortable in as crowded and as wild a place as this. He was always aware of how different he was from the comparatively fragile beings around him, all moving so chaotically, not aware of how they were made of porcelain compared to him. He was worried someone would be hurt by accident, having a man of steel in the midst of honeycombs.

But he could put that aside, watching Diana. She was as big a distraction as he could ask her, dancing with a natural sense of rhythm, movements more like sex than anything else. The sway of her hips, the twist of her shoulders, the thrusting of her shapely breasts, it invited the eye and begged for the hand.

Clark noticed, too, that he was not the only one to focus on Diana. Everyone in the club, male or female, seemed struck by her every time the lights blazed on and revealed her effervescence in the darkness. They pulled to her like iron filings to a magnet; when their hands reached into the air, they were pointed at Diana. They would've caved in on her, if Diana's whirling dervish of a dance didn't push them back with its sheer forcefulness.

At last the urgent, pounding number that had been animating them for the last fifteen minutes came to an end, the DJ winding down the beat in a slower, more intimate number that most chose to ignore, awoken from their private trances of dancing ecstasy. Diana came over to Clark, her exposed flesh glimmering with a light film of sweat. Clark held out the drink that he knew she would need, and Diana took it to heal her parched throat.

"You need to get into the groove," she said, airily oblivious to his misgivings, quietly demanding he conquer them.

"I think everyone else is in it already."

Diana laughed. "Is that a problem?"

"No. It's just hard, when I try so hard not to be seen, and here, no one can stop looking at you. Being with you is like stepping into a spotlight."

"They'd look at you like that if you cut loose. Maybe lost the tie..."

"That's what I don't want."

"So don't. Let them all look at me. Just remember I'm dancing with you. And going home with you..."

The music shifted again, a new disc laid out, a new beat building and building and building. Diana went with it, unzipping her blouse almost to her waist, revealing more creamy, glistening flesh in a vee down her front. It was obvious she was not wearing a bra, and there was nothing to stop her breasts from escaping, the valley between beaded with sweat. A light shrug and a nipple would come into sight, which made Clark both self-conscious and oddly hopeful.

Then she turned her back on him, exposing her dishabille to the entire dance floor. Before Clark could react, she had backed into him, her strong back leaning into his chest, her ass resting where his cock throbbed inside his trousers. Almost instinctively, Clark wrapped thick arms around Diana. She laid her arms over his, as if to feel herself but being prevented from doing so, as she swayed in place, drifting around inside his receptive grip.

Clark only felt more self-conscious, an agonized adrenaline rush of uncertainty. Was he holding her too tightly? Not tightly enough? Did she mean to make him feel this way with her body rubbing against his. He just wanted to be alone with her. It was so much easier to be alone with her, but he could see how she enjoyed the music and the dancing and the intoxicating openness of how close they were to each other. He knew that, even inside Diana's private world of released energy and worshipful body, she noted the admiring glances, took a feeling of power and confidence from the approval her dance met with.

Clark's hands were on Diana's strong arms and he was barely able to keep them there as he saw, over her shoulder, the rounded fullness of her cleavage, standing up firm and luscious, almost begging to be felt. When her ass brushed against him, he felt a responsive jerk in his groin. For all her coolness, her distance, Diana turned him on, and he had no idea what she expected him to do about it.

Diana began to sing silently to herself, something in Greek that flowed with the music, that seemed to describe the comfortable sway of her body in harmony with being held so closely. She ran her hands lightly over his arms, still tight around her, playing her fingertips at his clenched fingers. He moved with her, a surge of initiative pressing his body into hers, and Diana relished the firm feel of him through his linen shirt, the little silken feel of his tie on the back of her neck. He pulled her tighter, his soft lips hard at the top of her skull, his nose inhaling the scent of her hair. The music, the closeness, the exertion: she was falling for their old tricks. She was becoming ravenous, high on contact and motion.

"Just because I'm an Amazon," she said, "doesn't mean I want a woman."

"You want a warrior," Clark said in her ear.

"Fight for me. Fight for my pleasure."

His hands dropped down her body, serendipitously avoiding her exposed flesh, but touching her through the open blouse, pressing it into the hard muscle of her warrior's body. The meted, casual caress won her approval. Diana rested her weight totally on him, beaching herself supinely against his erect body, squeezing her legs together so there was slack in her waistline, room for his hand to dip inside. He reached down, under her jeans but over her panties, and pressed his hand close to her womanhood to feel its warmth. How it moved.

Diana turned abruptly, so his hand came to a rest at the small of her back and her long black hair was tossed from her eyes. She faced Clark, eyes bright with passion, red lips catching the flaring light like a second sun. "How about we find someplace more comfortable to talk?" she asked him. "I can barely hear myself think with this racket."

"We'll go to my apartment," Clark said, and Diana snuggled her face into his neck, wordless acquiescing.

Sometimes, playing follow the leader gave you a great view.

***

Diana didn't get the briefest look at his apartment before Clark was upon her, determined to finish what he'd started. He pressed into her from behind, like before, only this time he was pulling her to him, yanking her blouse from her shoulders to expose the full roundness of her sensuously swaying breasts. He cupped them in his hands as he kissed her neck, pulling his palms harshly inward to crush her tits into her chest. Diana moaned at the rough treatment, turning her head to catch him in a kiss, missing him as he knelt down to peel down her pants. Her panties crossed her ass and crotch, as substantial as morning dew, and when Clark kissed her hip, it seemed harsh enough to tear them like a spider's web.

"Are you sure this is allowed by the Amazon Way?" Clark asked, reaching around her hips to palm her crotch, feeling her wetness and her heat on the insides of his fingers.

"Part of being a warrior is acknowledging when one is hopelessly outmanned... and needs to surrender..."

Clark accepted her surrender, kissing his way up her body, licking her spine and her shoulder blades, pulling her long dark hair out of the way and turning her head so his mouth could more easily find hers. She opened her lips and his mouth merged with hers, tongues working back and forth from one to the other. His hand clapped against her ass; strikes came down on her crotch as well, leaving her squirming, rubbing her thighs together even as he pried him apart, manhandling his way inside her panties and massaging her cunt, her clit, swallowing the moan she pushed into their kiss.

She always loved the way her body felt, but it felt better than ever under his enthusiastic touch, her panties riding lower and lower on her hips as his hand roamed all over her wet mound.

"Take my panties..." she whispered. "I feel so dirty, still having them on..."

"That's the idea."

He took his hand out of her panties, reached under them, between her lovely thighs, grabbing the folds of her bunched up panties' crotch along with her sex and crushing them together against the heel of his hand. Diana could smell her sex. She was thick with juices, dripping, wondering if he could smell her too.

Abruptly, he stopped grinding her own wadded up panties into her groin, releasing them so they sagged almost all the way off her hips, her cunt shockingly exposed, the apartment's brisk air a welcome release from how stuffy it'd felt inside her warm, wet panties. Diana had no time to relax before Clark's middle finger entered her, found her wet and throbbing. She moaned loudly. Felt a sudden breeze on her ass, where her panties had lowered as well, and she was so shockinglyalivethat the simple play of air felt like a caress.

"Oh, ohhhhh, I can't stand it! Kal, please,Kal..."

Inside her cunt, Clark's finger began to vibrate, hard enough to shake her apart if she were anyone but Wonder Woman. Her hips swung, pushing hard into his crotch, the strumming of his cock running hard and thick down the length of his thigh. Letting him feel the quivers of his fingers echoing through her flesh. It was like holding a vibrator against his dick.

"Go," Clark said to her, his other hand on her face as she moaned, finger in her mouth, her lips closed in an O around it. "Go, go, GO!"

Every part of Diana's body felt like it was on fire. She pulled her legs tight together, trying to cram the explosive sensation in as snug as possible. Exquisite sensations bombarded her body, legs stiff, arms stiffening, shuddering and going into convulsions for what seemed like an eternity.

"Aphrodite, I'm coming,I'm coming!"

She peaked when he wanted her to; his finger stopped vibrating. She knew it was still and heavy inside her, feeling the clenches and spasms of her cunt. Diana skittered down from the dizzy heights, sucking air into her lungs, her generous breasts heaving with each gasping breath. She stared out at the apartment for the first time, her afterglow radiating from her.

"Nice place," she said with hitched breath.

"Thanks."

"I'm the one who should be thanking you."

"You will," Clark assured her.

She wasn't sure if he pushed her to her knees or if she just slipped. But he left her there, kneeling as he circled around her, coming in front of her. He unbuckled his belt, pulled down his fly. She saw his boxers, their pattern pushed out in front by the fervor of his blood-gorged cock.

"Kiss it," he told her. "Worship it. You're good at that."

Diana looked up at him sharply. His voice was rough. "You do take liberties."

"You offer them."

She couldn't argue with that, or with the look of lust in his eyes. She pressed her lips against his cockhead, obvious even through the cotton material, and kissed it. His cock jerked forward, struggling to escape from his boxers. Diana smelled cum upon her lips and pursed them together. She felt like there'd be gallons of it when he came. And she'd love it.

Diana pulled open his fly. Then she sucked.

She choked, Sucking to the thick, pounding base of his shaft. With a hungry gasp, raw pleasure, she buried her face in his bristling black hair.

"Great Rao," Clark groaned, believing for a moment that in her lust, Diana was going to suck his balls into her mouth along with his shaft. He'd never seen anyone so turned on in his life. "Suck it, princess," he groaned, rocking his body so his cock jerked upward into her mouth. "Suck it right down your throat until you get my cum."

Diana obeyed all too eagerly; bobbing her head up and down wildly on his cock, her forehead butting into his abs loudly. She moaned with every downward surge, like the heat from his shaft was intensifying the lust bursting through her body.

She gagged, pulling herself free of his cock, rubbing her cunt to try to take advantage of the shameful heat running through her. He caught her head with his large hands, holding her against his belly. She submissively kissed around his belly button, helpless not to moan as she stroked herself.

"Am I too big for an Amazon?" Clark asked, beginning to usher her back down to his crotch.

"Never," Diana said, trying to face him with a defiant glare, but her eyes were consumed by his manhood. "Nothing's..."

He crushed her face brutally to his cock, pumping upward as he did so, forcing Diana to not only take him in her mouth, but deep-throat him. She gulped down his cock and felt the back of her throat constrict, the cock intruding there anyway. Diana, too, was heedless. She snuggled closer to his groin, splaying her hands on his muscular pelvis, wiry hairs under her palms, his balls on his chin with a fresh load of cum.