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It's bigger than the sum of us

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Strange as it may be to say, things are going fast, even for him. Not too fast, mind you, or fast in a bad way, no. Just... unexpectedly fast. Not that he had expected anything to begin with, except maybe slipping up and getting skewered for starting this in the first place. (He can just see Batman's expression if he were to find out and yeah, that's definitely something a guy can live without.)

It may not have been his best idea. It may even have been a case of what the hell was he thinking? (Many things, sure; chief among them "Must be my irresistible charm" and "I'm doing this for the League," but really, it's so much more complex than words can describe. Or is it?) The longer this is going on, the closer he comes to the conclusion that conscious decisions had little to do with it.

And he's still calling it "this" because he hasn't found a way to describe it yet, to pinpoint its exact nature. It's too loose to be called an attachment, too close for mere acquaintance, but not close enough for friendship either. It may be too soon to go labeling it yet. He'll just call it "this" for now and see where it's headed. Best bet.

So, what does he mean by "this"? Well, where to start?

They'd bumped into each other at Keystone National Bank, literally, because their smartphones had been more engrossing than the world around them. She had yelped and nearly dropped hers. It slipped from her fingers, but every attempt at catching it made it bounce anew, until he used his speed to pluck it from the air.

"Nice reflexes," she'd said, a little stunned, as she accepted her phone back. Must have been his smoking good looks, he has that effect on the ladies.

"Don't mention it."

"Thanks. Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?"

His first instinct was to grin at this cute attempt at a pickup line until he noticed the person addressing him had actually seen him, but in a different getup. He nearly choked. "I don't know," he managed, peering down at his smartphone and hoping it might deliver the perfect excuse to get out of this situation and away from her gaze. "Do you come down to the police station often?"

Her grin revealed a row of perfect pearly teeth and good humor, but not much else. She just turned the question on him and his occupation. "You a cop?"

Does member of the Justice League count? "Forensic scientist."

"Huh, I could have sworn I've seen you before."

"Um." People began clucking as they shuffled their way around them. He took her by the shoulders and moved two paces to the side, so the other bank-goers could enter and leave unobstructed.

"You know what?" she beamed at him, still clutching her phone with both hands. "You're kinda cute, wanna go out with me? As thanks for saving my phone."

"Oh, no. I–I–I couldn't..." he stammered, imagining her braining him with a mallet for any rash word he might utter, but then he thought why not? This would be the perfect chance to keep an eye on her and find out what she's doing in Keystone. Batman hadn't reported her missing, hadn't mentioned her at all in a long while, so she might be trying to start a new life here, away from his scrutiny.

"C'mon, it'll be fun. I promise I won't eat you." Again those teeth. Though this time his eyes focused more on the glossy red lips surrounding them. The sheen reminded him of candied apples. His stomach rumbled and she laughed. "Guess you can't promise the same."

In the end, he agreed. He thought he'd had it all figured out going into it, thought it'd be in the interest of the League, but that wasn't it, not exactly. He'd kinda been strung along, because who would ever have thought she had such a presence? Her ex-boyfriend (oh God, don't think of what he'd do to you if he found out about this) had always been in the limelight, stealing the show. There's really never been a place for a her at his side, only in his shadow, so no wonder she often got overlooked.

How that was possible was beyond him now, and a part of him wonders if he'd be in the same position if he'd paid attention to her before. Then again, saving the world is a very compelling reason not to take in all the sights on the way.

Outside of her gimmick she's actually pretty funny and pretty pretty, too, with her big blue eyes and soft blonde hair. (Not to mention the skin-tight clothes. She rocked a sweater as much as hotpants and striped stockings, and he couldn't say which he prefers.) If he didn't know she'd been a costumed villain, he'd never have guessed she had it in her. Sure, she's a little crazy, but it's the good, adventurous kind of crazy a lot of outgoing personalities seem to have in common. It's their way of enjoying life, and nothing that indicates a criminal nature. Maybe it's the difference in locale, maybe it's been Gotham and her proximity to the clown that made her go rogue even after she'd promised to better herself. Maybe now she could finally pull through.

So far she hasn't displayed any inclination of repeating her past and he likes to think he's part of the reason, part of the solution, showing her how much fun a normal life can be. (Leaving aside that she's doing the showing. He tells himself his role as recipient of the life lessons she's putting him through is important, because he's someone she can share this with, someone who's not using her for grander schemes and leaving her behind once she's done her job.)

Fact is, he may be enjoying this a little more than can be considered proper for a superhero. If there's such a thing. Depends on who you're asking. Not that it matters. It's still his life, right? He can do with it whatever he wants and spend it with whomever he wants. But there's still the safety of everyone in Keystone to think of, too. What if they got hurt because he's been negligent?

A niggling sense of worry asks him what if she knows and has been playing him all this time? A terrible thought and terribly unlikely, too. He must have spent an hour too long around Batman to be questioning everything and everyone. It's not that hard to believe that a gorgeous babe like her seeks out his company without ulterior motives, is it? He is pretty dashing, after all. (Pun intended.) That's gotta count for something.

Anyway, he never thought he'd say this, but it might have been more prudent to take things a little slower, give him room to figure this out, figure her out, although he's not sure he really wants to. It's good like this, going on dates, making out in the streets, she's even suggested hitting the gym together. He likes that she matches his wit, that she laughs at his corny jokes, that she's game for anything, and – no, he's not going to say "above all," he's not that kind of a—not any kind of perv – that she's so unbelievably flexible.

Okay, it's not like that's entirely new or astonishing. None of the Leaguers, and many of the guys they go up against, aren't exactly stiff boards that can't move without pulling a muscle, and he's seen Wonder Woman or the Bat pull off some incredibly fluid moves, but he's never actually imagined pinning either of them against the wall and— (stop going there already, geez).

Thing is, the ease with which he could flip her leg up against her shoulder while the other's still firmly planted on the floor would have given him an instant erection had he not already been hard enough to weep. She's like a goddamn Barbie doll, all joints and no bone. And so, so pretty.

She should look obscene, spread out like this, but he's never seen anything hotter in his life.

"You sure about this?" he mumbles against her lips. She's been sucking at his bottom lip and rolling it between her teeth while he got himself ready. Which was difficult because he still felt the outline of her fingers on his dick, fingers that now buried themselves in his shoulder and hair, trying to drag him closer than is physically possible, and he kind of wanted them back around the base of his erection although he knew what comes next would be so much better. He shudders into a vibration and she gives one of those urgent little moans he can't get enough of. His question is probably irrelevant, because even if she said No now, he wouldn't believe her. He'd weep and let go, but he wouldn't believe her.

"Do it," she breathes and cups his face with both hands. "Please, I can't wait any longer."

Neither could he. He's felt every second of this like hours, like a sprinter waiting for the gun and now that it's gone off, his body seems sluggish in following his commands. It's as if he's coaxing every muscle into motion individually. Except for the ones that are trembling involuntarily. Like the hand that's lining him up with her sweet hot sex, or, well, the entire line of his body as he slides inside her.

"Yesss," she hisses and draws him in for a searing kiss. Her tongue burns into his mouth just as her body burns around him and he wraps his arms around her, simply holding on. Sex is one area in which he can do without the sobriquet "fastest man alive."

He moves, painfully slowly at first. This angle makes her so tight, he fears he might rip something important if he pulled out too quickly.

"Yeah, go faster," she murmurs against his mouth, hot breath tickling his slick lips. "You feel amazing."

Takes the words right out of his mouth. He's picking up his pace and her head thuds back against the wall in a drawn-out moan. He must be on the right track.

"So good, so good, God, yeah," he babbles broken words and half-sentences, moans her name like it has a deeper meaning, like it could save him from doubting her.

In that moment something by his ankle starts vibrating.

"Oh God, is that your phone?"

"Yeah," he admits, too overwhelmed to feel sheepish about it, but still kind of torn up about what to do. It could be important. Could be the League since he's shut down his comms before the date and they can't contact him on other channels.

"I hope you're not thinking of answering," she sounds vaguely amused by the notion.

"Uhh, only for about a split second." Her left hand sneaks down to his ass and gives it a firm squeeze. He jumps a little at that and the groan that erupts from her throat does all kinds of things to him, first and foremost, make him disregard the call.

"Leave it. If it's important they're gonna call again."

She's right, they would. But he'd only find out later when he'd pick up his pants and remember to check his phone again. For the moment, his attention is occupied by processing sensory information. By concentrating hard on going fast but not too fast – that kind of friction would be really really uncomfortable and he doubts she'd be coming back after that.

The entire time he's thinking he's not going to last that he loses track of time. That is, until laughter crowds in on his eardrums.

"You got some seriously goofy face going on there," she says, tugging playfully at his hair. "It's cute."

"Sorry, did you..." he starts, then notices her sated expression. She's hooked her left leg over his hip and is practically lounging against the wall, lazily rubbing circles over her clit.

"Come?" She grins. "Twice. I wouldn't mind a third time, but that's just me being insatiable. You don't have to bust a nut if it ain't working for you right now."

"No, I..." His forehead falls to her shoulder. He wants to tell her but realizes he could never reveal his superpowers without giving away his secret identity. And as long as he doesn't know what her endgame is, he can't risk unmasking himself. "I have a lot on my mind, is all."

"D'you want me to blow ya or wanna call it a day?" Her first suggestion burns through him like a conflagration. She's using what leverage she has to work herself on his prick. It's less than half an inch, but it's distracting.

"Can I call a raincheck?" he asks, mouthing up the side of her throat. "I think I'd like you to ride me." He figures if he doesn't have to concentrate on keeping his speed in check he should be able to kick back and enjoy this. "That is, if you want to."

"Sunshine," she purrs, ruffles his hair some more and pulls him in for a deep kiss. "After that nice ride you just gave me, it's only fair I give back."

***

"That's some mad stamina you got there," she says, blissed-out grin taking control of her features as she hikes her panties up those incredibly shapely legs. He's left staring with his pants still pooling around his ankles.

"I, uh, practice a lot for endurance runs," he says lamely. The mere thought of running makes his knees wobble even more.

"Y'know, initially I thought you didn't swing my way and were just forcing yourself through the motions because I dragged you in here." She rotates her wrist, pointing to encompass the abandoned shop they sneaked into because their date had been too successful as far as groping was concerned. (She's found quite a number of those in Keystone already, she informed him. The economy is hitting small vendors especially hard, it seems. They're driven out by the bíg businesses he's guilty of shopping at himself.)

"That's not what happened," he protests and as he's fumbling with his pants, his phone falls out of his pockets. Right, he knew he was forgetting something. "I mean, who doesn't swing your way?"

"Gay guys." She giggles, patting down her skirt. "I seem to have a knack for picking those up. Though I guess the emotionally unavailable ones still win out."

He stops trying to pull his belt through the correct loops. "Sorry I gave you that impression."

"Hey, I'm not complainin'. I had fun." She sidles up him and gives him a hand with the belt. When it's successfully cinched up, she leans her head against his shoulder and slides her palm up his chest. "It was just sad to see you struggling."

Wow, that's uncharacteristically considerate of her. Well, going by the file he has on her that says she lacks empathy. Which she doesn't, as far as he can tell. She's just picky about who earns it.

He runs his fingers up the back of her crinkly blouse and God, he wants to kiss her again. So he does. It's lingering and sweet and tastes of raspberry bubblegum, something he hasn't had the opportunity to appreciate before.

"Oh, oops," she breaks the kiss all of a sudden. "I almost stepped on your phone." She looks to the floor where her sneakers are nestling against it.

"Let me get that." He feels like facepalming. For how long has he been meaning to check it?

He stoops to pick it up but is once again distracted by her legs. She must be doing that on purpose, shifting closer so they'll take up his line of vision. He sets his teeth against her calf and drags them up to her knee. She's squirming even before he nips the soft skin at the back of it, which earns him an excited little shriek.

She's adorable when she's ticklish. Or, whenever.

His phone informs him of three missed calls and a text message that reads Robbery at KNB, sent from an undisclosed number about an hour ago. His high spirits sink like lead and his doubts resurface.

Had she just been distracting him while the robbery took place? Had she been working together with someone who knew she'd be keeping him away from the bank?

Had all of this just been an act?

His eyes find hers and he sees his concern mirrored in them.

"Somethin' the matter?"

He doesn't want to believe it. He doesn't want to believe he's that easily fooled, doesn't want to believe she's good enough an actress to fool him, doesn't want to believe she'd been playing him all along.

It just couldn't be.

What they'd shared these past weeks, it couldn't mean nothing to her apart from securing a job. Who'd go through this much trouble when there are cities in America that make do without resident superheroes, that could have been more easily robbed?

"Don't worry, babe. It's nothing."

He's going to investigate this and he's going to find out who's behind this.

He just doesn't know what he'd do if it's really her.