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Retired supervillain she may be, but there are some habits of old that Lucy Diamond considers to be well-worth maintaining. So: she doesn't threaten to blast Australia to rubble when she's having an off-day anymore, but she still devotes a few hours each day to physical training. She's not evil (well, hardly), but there's a definite satisfaction in the knowledge that she can bring just about any man or woman to their knees with barely any effort at all.

And then there's this:

There's Amy, and her chest is heaving (Lucy is very aware of each breath Amy takes, and she suspects that's one reason why Amy's shirts keep on shrinking each time they spar). Her face is flushed, and damp strands of hair cling to her forehead. Amy's top is twisted around her torso, hiked up around her upper ribs. Her skin is sinfully hot against Lucy's inner thighs. Lucy has won--has Amy pinned to the floor--but it's Amy who can't stop smiling.

Amy says: "Do you yield?"

Amy's arms are stretched out above her head, her wrists held in place. Lucy's weight is holding her in place, and Amy's good, but she's not moving unless Lucy lets her. But Amy is hot, and soft, and her lips are right *there.*

Keeping in good fighting form is only a secondary goal of these sessions, after all.

Lucy grins.