BOP fic: Escape Plan (Helena/Zinda/Dinah)
Feb. 12th, 2009 10:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
seriousficTitle: Escape Plan
Fandom: Birds of Prey (comicverse)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,379
Characters/Pairings: Helena/Zinda/Dinah, references to Babs/Dinah and Scott/Barda
Summary: Zinda’s plan to distract the guards ends up being more distracting for Helena and Dinah.
On a dark, empty street somewhere in downtown Coast City, Zinda and Helena stood close for both warmth and so they wouldn’t be overheard. Zinda had traded in her comfy, familiar Blackhawks jacket for a gray pea coat that covered her bulletproof vest and a leather skirt. Helena wore a trenchcoat to cover up her bodysuit, with her mask and crossbow waiting to go in the pockets. They huddled together over the Blackberry with Barbara’s instructions.
“Distract the guards?” Zinda slapped her Blackberry again to make sure it wasn’t telling fibs. “I finally get to go on a mission and all we get to do is distract the guards?”
“It’s an important job,” Helena reasoned, pulling her trenchcoat tighter around her costume. “If the guards aren’t distracted, they might see Dinah sneaking in.”
“How come I can’t sneak in? I’m plenty stealthy!”
“Yeah, you’re real subtle, Miniskirt Girl.”
“Hot pants. Belly window.”
“Stop, you’re getting me all wet.” Helena looked across the street at the guarded facility. “So, how ya want to distract the rent-a-cops?”
Zinda snapped her fingers. “I got it, how about we show them a little leg?”
“Yeah, that’ll work if the Lion’s Mane happens to be the only Mormon drug-running outfit in America. You need a bit more to get a guy’s attention these days.”
“More?” Zinda snapped her fingers. “I got just the thing!”
She grabbed Helena and kissed her deeply. Helena was shocked for the two seconds it took her to pull Zinda a little closer. The Kevlar made it damn hard to get a decent grope in, but she did her best.
“Mmm, the direct approach,” she murmured in Zinda’s ear as the blonde did scandalous things to her neck.
“It’s what I’m good at.” Zinda reached under Helena’s trenchcoat to get her hands on the firmest ass in the BOP (so said Dinah, and Dinah was an expert on these matters). Her sensual red lips found a lazy smile before devouring Helena again, slow and eager. Helena had always loved the contrast between Zinda’s bar-hopping ferocity and her dreamy kisses. It was the perfect counterpoint to her own, very uncouth way of doing things.
Helena slid her hands under Zinda’s skirt, returning the favor (although the thin lace panties were much more grope-able than her own leather armor), almost lifting Zinda off her feet with her enthusiasm. Zinda hummed in approval and put her leg between Helena’s, nice and easy, asking politely for her to get onboard.
“Are they looking?” Zinda asked as Helena rode her thigh.
“Hmm? Oh, uh—“ She looked over Zinda’s shoulder. “Oh, yeah.”
“Then slap my ass, girl!” Zinda dug her thigh harder into Helena’s pussy. “Ride it like you stole it!”
Helena pulled Zinda’s skirt up and managed to get two slaps in before she resigned herself to just squeezing it. Magnificent. Not all muscle like Dinah’s, but not as soft as Barbara’s. Perfectly fitted to her hand. “I am so glad I wasn’t partnered with Barda on this one.”
“I’m more glad that you weren’t partnered with Barda. Gladder.” Or whatever. Helena always did make Zinda’s head go stupid. “Wanna make it on the bench?”
“Huh?”
“Well, we’ve gotta give ‘em a reason to keep watching, don’t we?”
“Yes we do.” Helena pushed Zinda down on the bench, straddled her like a bucking bronco. She unbuttoned the top half of her trenchcoat and unzipped her bodysuit to reveal the tiny gold crucifix dancing between her breasts.
Zinda gave her a look that was all lust, then reared up to nip at her breasts and tug at the necklace. Helena wanted Zinda flat on her back and enjoying the ride, so she only let her get away with it for a minute… or two… or five…
“Jesus Christ, Hel, it’s the Lion’s Mane! Get in the car!” Dinah cried.
With legs that were quite rubbery, Helena threw herself into the van, dragging Zinda after her. They took off, with Dinah belatedly closing the side-door before settling into the passenger seat. Barda was driving.
“Mission accomplished?” Zinda asked, flattening her skirt back over her thighs.
“Mission accomplished,” Dinah nodded, before turning a wry eye to her two teammates. “So, how did you distract those guards?”
Helena was pleased, but not surprised, to find Zinda’s hand caressing the side of her face before gripping the back of her neck.
“Like this.”
Dinah watched, eyes widening and then narrowing sultrily, as the kiss deepened. The two women fell across the bench seat, Helena’s hands perched at the small of Zinda’s back, then springing into action. One lifted up her skirt while the other hooked its fingers in the waistband of her shockingly wet panties.
“Pah!” Barda said. “On Apokolips, we saved the celebration for after the mission was completed!”
“We’re not on Apokolips, are we? Shut up and drive,” Dinah ordered, never taking her eyes off Helena and Zinda.
Helena was pulling the waistband out and letting it snap back against Zinda’s warm flesh, which left the pilot in a mouth-watering state of dishabille. Zinda reached back to pull them all the way off, smiling into Helena’s kissing, but Helena slapped her hand away and tugged them down with a painstakingly slow insistence. Dinah watched as first the smoothly curving cheeks of her ass were revealed, then the engorged labia hidden between her legs. It made her own pussy throb, especially when Helena reached around and sunk her fingers into both voluptuous curves.
Barda took a hard turn and the two women nearly toppled out of their seats. Dinah held tight to hers, straddling the armrest so she could scratch her itch against the car seat. It was no substitute for Barbara’s touch, but it kept her from jumping Helena and Zinda like some nymphomaniac.
Zinda had taken advantage of the jostling to sit up and pull off Helena’s clothes. She already had the trenchcoat fully undone and the armored bodysuit unzipped low enough to reveal the softly curling pubic hair beneath Helena’s panties. Cotton. Nearly translucent. Dinah felt her mouth watering.
Helena, for her part, pulled Zinda’s coat opened and unstrapped her bulletproof vest, emphatically throwing it into the backseat. Then, her movements growing more hurried, she ripped open the black tanktop Zinda wore under it and shoved the bra over Zinda’s head, where it took her cap to the floor with it. They embraced, kissing passionately as Helena shucked off Zinda’s skirt. Dinah actually moaned out loud as her eyes fell on every inch of that magnificent ass. There really was just no comparison with how it looked with an annoying skirt outlining it.
They broke apart for air and so Helena could shove the bodysuit off her shoulders to leave dangling from her waist – “Fuck, that’s the stuff!” she gasped – and then they got down to dry humping more intense than any boy-girl coitus Dinah had ever seen.
That ache was back, that fucking ache in Dinah’s cunt and nipples and making her lips want to pucker. She felt slutty and slick as she unzipped her bodice, slid her right hand down below her panties and touched lightning. Her nipples were rasping right through her bra to the leather bodice as it creaked and bunched out of its skintight frame, but she’d have to grin and bear it. Because her other hand was reaching out to touch Zinda’s upthrust ass.
It was perfectly round, luscious and unblemished and smoother than fucking silk. The hand Dinah had on her mound got a lot more busy. Then Zinda looked back, Helena loving her breast, and grinned at her, and Dinah’s mouth hung open like an idjit.
“Lord almighty, Lance, that’s not all you can do, is it?”
Not daring to look away from Zinda’s lit-up eyes, Dinah pushed a finger inside Zinda’s puckered anus. Those baby blues shut almost all the way and Dinah realized she was fucking herself to the same tempo she was fucking Zinda, the same tempo the engine in the fucking car was pistoning, the same tempo that Barda’s thighs were clenching and Helena’s hips were push-push-pushing against Zinda’s leg.
“Harder,” Barda ordered, teeth gritted, and Dinah pushed another finger in. Helena moaned around Zinda’s nipple, her other nipple, she’d switched, and Dinah sped up the tempo as she saw Helena reach down and slap Zinda’s pussy.
“Uh!”
“Like that?” Helena asked, looking up from between Zinda’s saliva-slick breasts.
“This team is crazy,” Barda said, shaking her head, the steering wheel fracturing in her white knuckles.
“Shut up. Drive,” Dinah said, her voice amazingly calm for having one hand in her own pussy and another in a beautiful woman.
She always got Zen in the face of orgasm, her breath turgid, her eyes shut in a dreamy state of peace. Her breath came in short, hard gasps for an impossibly long minute until she slumped forward against the car seat. No part of her body moved except for two fingers in Zinda.
“We’re almost there!” Barda said warningly.
“Yes… almost there… uh-huh…” Zinda muttered. She was riding Helena’s thigh like a P-38, and she grabbed Helena’s head to guide her teeth back to her breast, where they felt so good. Helena had one hand buried between her own thighs and the other found Zinda’s clit, a finger pinning it down with awful, lovely force. “…almost…”
The van slammed to a stop, Dinah rocking against the dash and Zinda falling to the floor. Helena fell on top of her; Zinda kissed her wildly before the side-door flew open. There were sirens in the distance.
“Playtime’s over!” Barda said, dragging Zinda out from under Helena. Zinda smiled apologetically at Helena; they’d parked in the open cargo hold of the Aerie, ready for take-off. Bare-ass naked and with her top flapping in the wind, Zinda ran for the cockpit.
Dinah and Helena slowly emerged from the van, Dinah pulling her zipper up over her sodden panties. Helena gazed at her with open disgust. “You’re despicable.”
“Sorry, I was still tuned up from hearing Barbara talk to me about race cars.” She wilted a little from Helena’s dubious glare. “It was the way she said it.”
“Let that be a lesson to you two,” Barda told them. “No sex before success.”
Scott Free walked toward them, jerking a thumb back at the cockpit where he’d been starting the plane up for Zinda. “Why is our pilot half-naked?”
“There’s a perfectly good explanation in the van,” Barda said.
“Oh, okay.” Scott climbed inside. “I don’t see anything. And what’s that smell?”
Dropping her cape, Barda climbed in after him. She made a shooing gesture to the Birds, then shut the door. A moment later, the van began to rock gently from side to side. Then not so gently.
***
Zinda was trying really hard to ignore the throbbing between her legs when the door to the cockpit opened and the point became academic. Helena was her best friend and a hot tamale to boot, while Dinah was just drop-dead gorgeous. They’d dressed… more or less… with the zippers copiously hanging about at their midriffs. A stiff breeze could shift those open tops and let Zinda see things she really wanted to see.
“Hi, Zinda.” Helena sat down in the co-pilot’s seat, perching right on the edge of it.
“Mind if we keep you company?” Dinah sat down behind her, running a hand from Helena’s thigh to her firm ass.
“Don’t bother me while I’m flying the plane,” Zinda gritted out.
“Oh, we won’t be a bother.” Dinah was pulling down Helena’s unbelted pants to reveal the slope of olive-dark skin from her waist to her hip. “Will we, Hel?”
“None whatsoever,” Helena promised, leaning back into Dinah’s arms.
Zinda unconsciously licked her lips as Dinah’s other hand looped around to Helena’s chest, pulling the top open with brisk tugs.
“Hafta… fly plane…”
Helena was writhing in Dinah’s lap now, head back and eyes closed in rapture as the blonde licked at her ear. Her pants were sliding down her thighs now, as if fleeing the hand Dinah had grinding into her pussy. The hand biting into Dinah’s proud breasts was almost an afterthought, just groping and feeling.
Breathless, Zinda hitched forward in her seat until the floor-mounted yoke was clamped between her thighs. They hit a patch of turbulence. She moaned deeply.
“C’mon, Zindy, it’s no fun without you.” Helena pouted like she was closer to 5 than 25.
“I know what’ll get her,” Dinah whispered into Helena’s ear between suckles. She reached for the console and pressed a single blue button.
The radar screen shrunk to accommodate a picture-in-picture of the Oracle mask. The little camera above the screen whirred, then the mask blinked away to be replaced by an open-mouthed Barbara Gordon. “I’ll call you back, Supes.” She took off her headset. “Three-way call?”
“Four-way,” Dinah said, nodding to Zinda, who was very much enjoying the bumpy ride. Her legs were splayed, boots up on the console, and she was pulling herself against the control column in a desperate approximation of coitus. Her pea coat hung off her shoulders and the scraps of her tanktop were clinging to her sweaty body like creeping ivy.
“Fuck, girl, come on,” Helena said, grabbing Zinda’s nearest foot and pulling it toward her.
Zinda spun in her chair, recovered, and spun back to the console, minus one boot. “Planes don’t fly themselves!”
“Actually, they do,” Barbara said. “See that button marked ‘autopilot’?”
Three hands slapped down on it at once. One second later, Zinda had borne her teammates to the ground in a sprawling mass of kissing, fondling flesh.
“Guys?” Barbara said. “I can’t see. I’m giving you a direct order to get back in my line of sight.”
Her hair already a mess, Zinda crawled into the co-pilot’s seat. Helena happily straddled her like a stripper about to give a lapdance. Dinah stood behind her, grabbing a feel wherever she could and not coincidentally swirling her ass for the camera.
“So, how’d the mission go?” Barbara asked as she reached for the vibrator she’d been keeping on hand ever since Dinah had joined the team.
“Mission very accomplished,” Dinah reported, as she was folded up in her team’s arms.
Fandom: Birds of Prey (comicverse)
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2,379
Characters/Pairings: Helena/Zinda/Dinah, references to Babs/Dinah and Scott/Barda
Summary: Zinda’s plan to distract the guards ends up being more distracting for Helena and Dinah.
On a dark, empty street somewhere in downtown Coast City, Zinda and Helena stood close for both warmth and so they wouldn’t be overheard. Zinda had traded in her comfy, familiar Blackhawks jacket for a gray pea coat that covered her bulletproof vest and a leather skirt. Helena wore a trenchcoat to cover up her bodysuit, with her mask and crossbow waiting to go in the pockets. They huddled together over the Blackberry with Barbara’s instructions.
“Distract the guards?” Zinda slapped her Blackberry again to make sure it wasn’t telling fibs. “I finally get to go on a mission and all we get to do is distract the guards?”
“It’s an important job,” Helena reasoned, pulling her trenchcoat tighter around her costume. “If the guards aren’t distracted, they might see Dinah sneaking in.”
“How come I can’t sneak in? I’m plenty stealthy!”
“Yeah, you’re real subtle, Miniskirt Girl.”
“Hot pants. Belly window.”
“Stop, you’re getting me all wet.” Helena looked across the street at the guarded facility. “So, how ya want to distract the rent-a-cops?”
Zinda snapped her fingers. “I got it, how about we show them a little leg?”
“Yeah, that’ll work if the Lion’s Mane happens to be the only Mormon drug-running outfit in America. You need a bit more to get a guy’s attention these days.”
“More?” Zinda snapped her fingers. “I got just the thing!”
She grabbed Helena and kissed her deeply. Helena was shocked for the two seconds it took her to pull Zinda a little closer. The Kevlar made it damn hard to get a decent grope in, but she did her best.
“Mmm, the direct approach,” she murmured in Zinda’s ear as the blonde did scandalous things to her neck.
“It’s what I’m good at.” Zinda reached under Helena’s trenchcoat to get her hands on the firmest ass in the BOP (so said Dinah, and Dinah was an expert on these matters). Her sensual red lips found a lazy smile before devouring Helena again, slow and eager. Helena had always loved the contrast between Zinda’s bar-hopping ferocity and her dreamy kisses. It was the perfect counterpoint to her own, very uncouth way of doing things.
Helena slid her hands under Zinda’s skirt, returning the favor (although the thin lace panties were much more grope-able than her own leather armor), almost lifting Zinda off her feet with her enthusiasm. Zinda hummed in approval and put her leg between Helena’s, nice and easy, asking politely for her to get onboard.
“Are they looking?” Zinda asked as Helena rode her thigh.
“Hmm? Oh, uh—“ She looked over Zinda’s shoulder. “Oh, yeah.”
“Then slap my ass, girl!” Zinda dug her thigh harder into Helena’s pussy. “Ride it like you stole it!”
Helena pulled Zinda’s skirt up and managed to get two slaps in before she resigned herself to just squeezing it. Magnificent. Not all muscle like Dinah’s, but not as soft as Barbara’s. Perfectly fitted to her hand. “I am so glad I wasn’t partnered with Barda on this one.”
“I’m more glad that you weren’t partnered with Barda. Gladder.” Or whatever. Helena always did make Zinda’s head go stupid. “Wanna make it on the bench?”
“Huh?”
“Well, we’ve gotta give ‘em a reason to keep watching, don’t we?”
“Yes we do.” Helena pushed Zinda down on the bench, straddled her like a bucking bronco. She unbuttoned the top half of her trenchcoat and unzipped her bodysuit to reveal the tiny gold crucifix dancing between her breasts.
Zinda gave her a look that was all lust, then reared up to nip at her breasts and tug at the necklace. Helena wanted Zinda flat on her back and enjoying the ride, so she only let her get away with it for a minute… or two… or five…
“Jesus Christ, Hel, it’s the Lion’s Mane! Get in the car!” Dinah cried.
With legs that were quite rubbery, Helena threw herself into the van, dragging Zinda after her. They took off, with Dinah belatedly closing the side-door before settling into the passenger seat. Barda was driving.
“Mission accomplished?” Zinda asked, flattening her skirt back over her thighs.
“Mission accomplished,” Dinah nodded, before turning a wry eye to her two teammates. “So, how did you distract those guards?”
Helena was pleased, but not surprised, to find Zinda’s hand caressing the side of her face before gripping the back of her neck.
“Like this.”
Dinah watched, eyes widening and then narrowing sultrily, as the kiss deepened. The two women fell across the bench seat, Helena’s hands perched at the small of Zinda’s back, then springing into action. One lifted up her skirt while the other hooked its fingers in the waistband of her shockingly wet panties.
“Pah!” Barda said. “On Apokolips, we saved the celebration for after the mission was completed!”
“We’re not on Apokolips, are we? Shut up and drive,” Dinah ordered, never taking her eyes off Helena and Zinda.
Helena was pulling the waistband out and letting it snap back against Zinda’s warm flesh, which left the pilot in a mouth-watering state of dishabille. Zinda reached back to pull them all the way off, smiling into Helena’s kissing, but Helena slapped her hand away and tugged them down with a painstakingly slow insistence. Dinah watched as first the smoothly curving cheeks of her ass were revealed, then the engorged labia hidden between her legs. It made her own pussy throb, especially when Helena reached around and sunk her fingers into both voluptuous curves.
Barda took a hard turn and the two women nearly toppled out of their seats. Dinah held tight to hers, straddling the armrest so she could scratch her itch against the car seat. It was no substitute for Barbara’s touch, but it kept her from jumping Helena and Zinda like some nymphomaniac.
Zinda had taken advantage of the jostling to sit up and pull off Helena’s clothes. She already had the trenchcoat fully undone and the armored bodysuit unzipped low enough to reveal the softly curling pubic hair beneath Helena’s panties. Cotton. Nearly translucent. Dinah felt her mouth watering.
Helena, for her part, pulled Zinda’s coat opened and unstrapped her bulletproof vest, emphatically throwing it into the backseat. Then, her movements growing more hurried, she ripped open the black tanktop Zinda wore under it and shoved the bra over Zinda’s head, where it took her cap to the floor with it. They embraced, kissing passionately as Helena shucked off Zinda’s skirt. Dinah actually moaned out loud as her eyes fell on every inch of that magnificent ass. There really was just no comparison with how it looked with an annoying skirt outlining it.
They broke apart for air and so Helena could shove the bodysuit off her shoulders to leave dangling from her waist – “Fuck, that’s the stuff!” she gasped – and then they got down to dry humping more intense than any boy-girl coitus Dinah had ever seen.
That ache was back, that fucking ache in Dinah’s cunt and nipples and making her lips want to pucker. She felt slutty and slick as she unzipped her bodice, slid her right hand down below her panties and touched lightning. Her nipples were rasping right through her bra to the leather bodice as it creaked and bunched out of its skintight frame, but she’d have to grin and bear it. Because her other hand was reaching out to touch Zinda’s upthrust ass.
It was perfectly round, luscious and unblemished and smoother than fucking silk. The hand Dinah had on her mound got a lot more busy. Then Zinda looked back, Helena loving her breast, and grinned at her, and Dinah’s mouth hung open like an idjit.
“Lord almighty, Lance, that’s not all you can do, is it?”
Not daring to look away from Zinda’s lit-up eyes, Dinah pushed a finger inside Zinda’s puckered anus. Those baby blues shut almost all the way and Dinah realized she was fucking herself to the same tempo she was fucking Zinda, the same tempo the engine in the fucking car was pistoning, the same tempo that Barda’s thighs were clenching and Helena’s hips were push-push-pushing against Zinda’s leg.
“Harder,” Barda ordered, teeth gritted, and Dinah pushed another finger in. Helena moaned around Zinda’s nipple, her other nipple, she’d switched, and Dinah sped up the tempo as she saw Helena reach down and slap Zinda’s pussy.
“Uh!”
“Like that?” Helena asked, looking up from between Zinda’s saliva-slick breasts.
“This team is crazy,” Barda said, shaking her head, the steering wheel fracturing in her white knuckles.
“Shut up. Drive,” Dinah said, her voice amazingly calm for having one hand in her own pussy and another in a beautiful woman.
She always got Zen in the face of orgasm, her breath turgid, her eyes shut in a dreamy state of peace. Her breath came in short, hard gasps for an impossibly long minute until she slumped forward against the car seat. No part of her body moved except for two fingers in Zinda.
“We’re almost there!” Barda said warningly.
“Yes… almost there… uh-huh…” Zinda muttered. She was riding Helena’s thigh like a P-38, and she grabbed Helena’s head to guide her teeth back to her breast, where they felt so good. Helena had one hand buried between her own thighs and the other found Zinda’s clit, a finger pinning it down with awful, lovely force. “…almost…”
The van slammed to a stop, Dinah rocking against the dash and Zinda falling to the floor. Helena fell on top of her; Zinda kissed her wildly before the side-door flew open. There were sirens in the distance.
“Playtime’s over!” Barda said, dragging Zinda out from under Helena. Zinda smiled apologetically at Helena; they’d parked in the open cargo hold of the Aerie, ready for take-off. Bare-ass naked and with her top flapping in the wind, Zinda ran for the cockpit.
Dinah and Helena slowly emerged from the van, Dinah pulling her zipper up over her sodden panties. Helena gazed at her with open disgust. “You’re despicable.”
“Sorry, I was still tuned up from hearing Barbara talk to me about race cars.” She wilted a little from Helena’s dubious glare. “It was the way she said it.”
“Let that be a lesson to you two,” Barda told them. “No sex before success.”
Scott Free walked toward them, jerking a thumb back at the cockpit where he’d been starting the plane up for Zinda. “Why is our pilot half-naked?”
“There’s a perfectly good explanation in the van,” Barda said.
“Oh, okay.” Scott climbed inside. “I don’t see anything. And what’s that smell?”
Dropping her cape, Barda climbed in after him. She made a shooing gesture to the Birds, then shut the door. A moment later, the van began to rock gently from side to side. Then not so gently.
***
Zinda was trying really hard to ignore the throbbing between her legs when the door to the cockpit opened and the point became academic. Helena was her best friend and a hot tamale to boot, while Dinah was just drop-dead gorgeous. They’d dressed… more or less… with the zippers copiously hanging about at their midriffs. A stiff breeze could shift those open tops and let Zinda see things she really wanted to see.
“Hi, Zinda.” Helena sat down in the co-pilot’s seat, perching right on the edge of it.
“Mind if we keep you company?” Dinah sat down behind her, running a hand from Helena’s thigh to her firm ass.
“Don’t bother me while I’m flying the plane,” Zinda gritted out.
“Oh, we won’t be a bother.” Dinah was pulling down Helena’s unbelted pants to reveal the slope of olive-dark skin from her waist to her hip. “Will we, Hel?”
“None whatsoever,” Helena promised, leaning back into Dinah’s arms.
Zinda unconsciously licked her lips as Dinah’s other hand looped around to Helena’s chest, pulling the top open with brisk tugs.
“Hafta… fly plane…”
Helena was writhing in Dinah’s lap now, head back and eyes closed in rapture as the blonde licked at her ear. Her pants were sliding down her thighs now, as if fleeing the hand Dinah had grinding into her pussy. The hand biting into Dinah’s proud breasts was almost an afterthought, just groping and feeling.
Breathless, Zinda hitched forward in her seat until the floor-mounted yoke was clamped between her thighs. They hit a patch of turbulence. She moaned deeply.
“C’mon, Zindy, it’s no fun without you.” Helena pouted like she was closer to 5 than 25.
“I know what’ll get her,” Dinah whispered into Helena’s ear between suckles. She reached for the console and pressed a single blue button.
The radar screen shrunk to accommodate a picture-in-picture of the Oracle mask. The little camera above the screen whirred, then the mask blinked away to be replaced by an open-mouthed Barbara Gordon. “I’ll call you back, Supes.” She took off her headset. “Three-way call?”
“Four-way,” Dinah said, nodding to Zinda, who was very much enjoying the bumpy ride. Her legs were splayed, boots up on the console, and she was pulling herself against the control column in a desperate approximation of coitus. Her pea coat hung off her shoulders and the scraps of her tanktop were clinging to her sweaty body like creeping ivy.
“Fuck, girl, come on,” Helena said, grabbing Zinda’s nearest foot and pulling it toward her.
Zinda spun in her chair, recovered, and spun back to the console, minus one boot. “Planes don’t fly themselves!”
“Actually, they do,” Barbara said. “See that button marked ‘autopilot’?”
Three hands slapped down on it at once. One second later, Zinda had borne her teammates to the ground in a sprawling mass of kissing, fondling flesh.
“Guys?” Barbara said. “I can’t see. I’m giving you a direct order to get back in my line of sight.”
Her hair already a mess, Zinda crawled into the co-pilot’s seat. Helena happily straddled her like a stripper about to give a lapdance. Dinah stood behind her, grabbing a feel wherever she could and not coincidentally swirling her ass for the camera.
“So, how’d the mission go?” Barbara asked as she reached for the vibrator she’d been keeping on hand ever since Dinah had joined the team.
“Mission very accomplished,” Dinah reported, as she was folded up in her team’s arms.
