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seriousficTitle: Command and Control
Fandom: DC Comics
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Barda/Knockout
Word Count: 1,186
Summary: Written for the DCU femslash porn battle. Barda/Knockout: crazy sexy bar fight. After the victory comes the celebration.
Even when she’d been one of the Female Furies, she’d flaunted her sexuality at every turn. But to Barda, Knockout was most beautiful when she fought. The power, the sheer strength… by the time they’d won the bar fight, leaving the tavern littered with unconscious drunkards, Barda was panting with anything but exertion.
Their eyes met. It’d been sheer happenstance, both of them looking for a fight in the same dive. If some loudmouth with a grudge against Apokoliptians for what’d happened during the Invasion hadn’t started a fight, they probably would’ve ended up fighting each other. As was, they were flushed with their victory and that energy needed somewhere to go. Usually, this was the part where Barda Boomtubed back to Scott and Knockout ran home to Scandal.
Usually.
Barda slammed into Knockout so hard that the brick wall buckled and cracked where they hit it, crumbs of it ending up in Knockout’s hair. Knockout broke the kiss and ripped open her uniform, forcing Barda’s mouth against her breast. Then the redhead started throwing her head back against the brickwork. Barda could suck. She knew just when to scrape her teeth against the nipple, when to slurp the aureola, how to set her skin on fire. It was a pity when Knockout had to shove Barda off, onto a table.
Barda tried to sit up, so Knockout gave her a little lovetap to daze her and then strode over to the bar. The bartender was cowering behind it, trying to sneak a peek while not tempting their anger. Knockout picked him up by his apron.
“Keg.”
The bartender pointed to it.
“Now run. And lock the door behind you.”
The bartender scampered as soon as his feet touched the ground. Knockout picked up a keg that was twice the size of her formidable thigh and carried it over to Barda. Barda was coming around, but the Female Fury stayed down. She was watching Knockout eagerly. Knockout supposed that being a submissive went with the whole goodie two-shoes package. Fine. Submission could be fun.
She broke the table with one fist, sending Barda to the ground, and then planted her foot between Barda’s breasts.
“You want me to stay down, you’d better keep me down,” Barda spat.
“Way I hear it, doesn’t take much too keep you on your back all night. How big is hubby, again?”
Barda tried to rear up and Knockout pressed her down through the floorboards. She ripped into the keg with her fingernails and poured it down her leg, letting Barda rip off her boot and drink the liquor off her toes. It went well, her conquest tingling through Knockout’s sex, until Barda wrenched Knockout’s legs out from under her and flipped her onto her back. A rough tongue traveled up Knockout’s leg, sucking the liquor from her pores. Knockout tried to sit up, but Barda shoved her down with one bulging arm. Knockout’s breathing grew heavy as Barda sucked the last drip of alcohol off her thigh.
Barda backed off, leaving Knockout agitated, cloudy. On her elbows and splayed legs, Barda offered herself up to the other woman. Knockout undressed her the Apokoliptian way, ripping, tearing, then stood up to jut her chest out and invite Barda’s response. Barda did the same job in half the time, ripping every stitch of Knockout’s unitard off with one clenched fist. Knockout felt a shiver go through her. Barda sensed it and laughed mockingly as she settled back, legs parted again.
“Show me how you satisfy that gentle little Earth female,” Barda smiled.
Knockout slid against her, their parted legs crossing. They began to strain, pussies scissoring against each other. It had the most delicious heat, the most overpowering vigor. Knockout cried out as Barda pressed down on her harder, grinding, tensing.
Seeing Barda break a sweat brought her body into sharp relief. As much as Knockout loved Scandal’s thin, winsome body; every inch of Barda was corded and beautiful, stretching toward orgasm like she was being wrung out. And by Barda’s fierce grin, she loved every second of it.
“How—long—can you—keep up?” Barda gritted out, her body undulating so fast it was like a whip being cracked. The way her breasts jiggled was the best part of that visual, although the dark hair that flew forward and ended up plastered to her sweaty brow also made Knockout tingle.
“Why?” Knockout paused dramatically to conceal how out of breath she was. “Do you get tired in your old age?”
Barda reared up, rolling Knockout onto her back and pressing down on her. It was an awkward, uncomfortable position—Knockout upside-down on her broad shoulders and Barda straddling her like a very sexy Colossus—but Knockout’s heart was pounding out electric jolts of pleasure far too hard for her to think about the kinks that would end up befouling her neck. This no longer resembled anything like a fair contest, or sex for that matter. It was rutting; a screaming, go-for-broke race toward orgasm as Barda used Knockout like nothing more than a device for sexual gratification.
Knockout loved every excruciating second of it.
“My name! My name!” Barda’s position on top of Knockout allowed her to easily slap Knockout’s ass with all her strength. It stung, though the red imprints she left were hard to see for the way Knockout’s rough skin flushed. “Say it, bitch!.”
“BARDA!” Knockout screamed at the top of her lungs. She wondered which would kill her first, the heart attack or her one-night-fucking-stand.
She blacked out when she came, and had a vague impression of being tossed aside. When she came to, the clock on the wall had it at twenty minutes later and Barda had her Mega-Rod furiously pistoning into her pussy. Every inch of her overheated body was glistening with sweat and Knockout wanted her. Wanted her the way you could only want something you would never have.
“Whiskey,” Barda growled.
Knockout fetched her some as best she could without being able to walk straight. She poured it out over Barda’s body to cool her, then began licking it up. She got as far as Barda’s spine before Barda grabbed her by the hair and forced her head down around the Mega-Rod raging inside Barda’s cunt. Licking until her mouth went dry, but still unable to sate a hunger she’d never known before, Knockout was able to push Barda over the edge into an orgasm so loud it temporarily deafened Knockout.
By the time the glass had stopped rattling, Barda had finished writing her message on Knockout’s arm. It was a phone number and a list of dates Mr. Miracle would be on tour. As Barda Boomtubed away and her victims started to come to, Knockout realized that Barda had written in permanent marker.
How was she ever going to explain this to Scandal?
And if she convinced her lover it was for a threesome, would the two of them be enough to overcome her superior officer?
Knockout wondered if any of the other Secret Six members would be up for the challenge.
Fandom: DC Comics
Rating: NC-17
Characters/Pairings: Barda/Knockout
Word Count: 1,186
Summary: Written for the DCU femslash porn battle. Barda/Knockout: crazy sexy bar fight. After the victory comes the celebration.
Even when she’d been one of the Female Furies, she’d flaunted her sexuality at every turn. But to Barda, Knockout was most beautiful when she fought. The power, the sheer strength… by the time they’d won the bar fight, leaving the tavern littered with unconscious drunkards, Barda was panting with anything but exertion.
Their eyes met. It’d been sheer happenstance, both of them looking for a fight in the same dive. If some loudmouth with a grudge against Apokoliptians for what’d happened during the Invasion hadn’t started a fight, they probably would’ve ended up fighting each other. As was, they were flushed with their victory and that energy needed somewhere to go. Usually, this was the part where Barda Boomtubed back to Scott and Knockout ran home to Scandal.
Usually.
Barda slammed into Knockout so hard that the brick wall buckled and cracked where they hit it, crumbs of it ending up in Knockout’s hair. Knockout broke the kiss and ripped open her uniform, forcing Barda’s mouth against her breast. Then the redhead started throwing her head back against the brickwork. Barda could suck. She knew just when to scrape her teeth against the nipple, when to slurp the aureola, how to set her skin on fire. It was a pity when Knockout had to shove Barda off, onto a table.
Barda tried to sit up, so Knockout gave her a little lovetap to daze her and then strode over to the bar. The bartender was cowering behind it, trying to sneak a peek while not tempting their anger. Knockout picked him up by his apron.
“Keg.”
The bartender pointed to it.
“Now run. And lock the door behind you.”
The bartender scampered as soon as his feet touched the ground. Knockout picked up a keg that was twice the size of her formidable thigh and carried it over to Barda. Barda was coming around, but the Female Fury stayed down. She was watching Knockout eagerly. Knockout supposed that being a submissive went with the whole goodie two-shoes package. Fine. Submission could be fun.
She broke the table with one fist, sending Barda to the ground, and then planted her foot between Barda’s breasts.
“You want me to stay down, you’d better keep me down,” Barda spat.
“Way I hear it, doesn’t take much too keep you on your back all night. How big is hubby, again?”
Barda tried to rear up and Knockout pressed her down through the floorboards. She ripped into the keg with her fingernails and poured it down her leg, letting Barda rip off her boot and drink the liquor off her toes. It went well, her conquest tingling through Knockout’s sex, until Barda wrenched Knockout’s legs out from under her and flipped her onto her back. A rough tongue traveled up Knockout’s leg, sucking the liquor from her pores. Knockout tried to sit up, but Barda shoved her down with one bulging arm. Knockout’s breathing grew heavy as Barda sucked the last drip of alcohol off her thigh.
Barda backed off, leaving Knockout agitated, cloudy. On her elbows and splayed legs, Barda offered herself up to the other woman. Knockout undressed her the Apokoliptian way, ripping, tearing, then stood up to jut her chest out and invite Barda’s response. Barda did the same job in half the time, ripping every stitch of Knockout’s unitard off with one clenched fist. Knockout felt a shiver go through her. Barda sensed it and laughed mockingly as she settled back, legs parted again.
“Show me how you satisfy that gentle little Earth female,” Barda smiled.
Knockout slid against her, their parted legs crossing. They began to strain, pussies scissoring against each other. It had the most delicious heat, the most overpowering vigor. Knockout cried out as Barda pressed down on her harder, grinding, tensing.
Seeing Barda break a sweat brought her body into sharp relief. As much as Knockout loved Scandal’s thin, winsome body; every inch of Barda was corded and beautiful, stretching toward orgasm like she was being wrung out. And by Barda’s fierce grin, she loved every second of it.
“How—long—can you—keep up?” Barda gritted out, her body undulating so fast it was like a whip being cracked. The way her breasts jiggled was the best part of that visual, although the dark hair that flew forward and ended up plastered to her sweaty brow also made Knockout tingle.
“Why?” Knockout paused dramatically to conceal how out of breath she was. “Do you get tired in your old age?”
Barda reared up, rolling Knockout onto her back and pressing down on her. It was an awkward, uncomfortable position—Knockout upside-down on her broad shoulders and Barda straddling her like a very sexy Colossus—but Knockout’s heart was pounding out electric jolts of pleasure far too hard for her to think about the kinks that would end up befouling her neck. This no longer resembled anything like a fair contest, or sex for that matter. It was rutting; a screaming, go-for-broke race toward orgasm as Barda used Knockout like nothing more than a device for sexual gratification.
Knockout loved every excruciating second of it.
“My name! My name!” Barda’s position on top of Knockout allowed her to easily slap Knockout’s ass with all her strength. It stung, though the red imprints she left were hard to see for the way Knockout’s rough skin flushed. “Say it, bitch!.”
“BARDA!” Knockout screamed at the top of her lungs. She wondered which would kill her first, the heart attack or her one-night-fucking-stand.
She blacked out when she came, and had a vague impression of being tossed aside. When she came to, the clock on the wall had it at twenty minutes later and Barda had her Mega-Rod furiously pistoning into her pussy. Every inch of her overheated body was glistening with sweat and Knockout wanted her. Wanted her the way you could only want something you would never have.
“Whiskey,” Barda growled.
Knockout fetched her some as best she could without being able to walk straight. She poured it out over Barda’s body to cool her, then began licking it up. She got as far as Barda’s spine before Barda grabbed her by the hair and forced her head down around the Mega-Rod raging inside Barda’s cunt. Licking until her mouth went dry, but still unable to sate a hunger she’d never known before, Knockout was able to push Barda over the edge into an orgasm so loud it temporarily deafened Knockout.
By the time the glass had stopped rattling, Barda had finished writing her message on Knockout’s arm. It was a phone number and a list of dates Mr. Miracle would be on tour. As Barda Boomtubed away and her victims started to come to, Knockout realized that Barda had written in permanent marker.
How was she ever going to explain this to Scandal?
And if she convinced her lover it was for a threesome, would the two of them be enough to overcome her superior officer?
Knockout wondered if any of the other Secret Six members would be up for the challenge.
