A Birds of Prey story by Rysler
* * *
Helena sat in the easy chair in Barbara's bedroom. She was painting her toenails black. Barbara was pretending not to watch her from the bed. A sudoku book was propped up on her stomach, and the binding blocked Helena's view of her face. Helena liked to sit far enough away so that Barbara couldn't reach her without effort. Barbara found it frustrating, which Helena found sexy.
"Threesome," Barbara murmured, and Helena painted right over her big toe.
"What? Are you doing a crossword puzzle?"
Barbara peeked around her book, and smirked. "You've never thought about it?"
"This is what goes through your mind when you're awake in the daytime?"
Barbara glanced at the window. Noon made it a square of light. Metropolis sprawled beneath them. She said, "I guess so. Light makes anything possible."
"Oh, don't get broody on me. You said threesome," Helena said. She moved to the next toe.
"Fine, capo. Dinah?"
Helena painted over another toe. She cursed. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"Fine, you make a suggestion."
Helena smirked. "Power Girl." When she looked up from her toe, Barbara was giving her the middle finger.
Helena leaned back in the chair and settled her foot onto the carpet. "Why do I get the impression you've already slept with Catwoman?"
Barbara batted her eyelashes.
The door flew open. Zinda stood triumphant, and almost completely naked, save a pilot's hat and a bomber jacket. "Hi, there. I couldn't help overhearing."
Helena's mouth went dry.
Barbara put down her book.
* * *
Zinda and Helena faced each other on their sides, kissing. Barbara arched above them, braced on her hands, her hips held up by their bodies. She couldn't control their frantic motions, how her body pitched and rolled with theirs, but with skin and heat and musk on all sides, she felt almost whole again. When Zinda rolled onto her back, Barbara fell with her, pressing their breasts together, kissing her. Barbara's tongue was in Zinda's mouth, and Zinda was sucking her, and Zinda's hands were everywhere until Barbara couldn't seperate out where her neves ended.
Helena's hands moved slower across her back. She felt Helena kiss her neck, graze her shoulder, breathe against her hair. Zinda was the spitfire they all imagined her to be, and Helena was the calm one. Barbara's steadiness and center, like floating in the middle of the sea.
Zinda yanked her mouth free of Barbara's kisses, and whooped. "I never figured you for such a firecracker, Babs!"
Barbara laughed at Zinda squirming under her, at Zinda's fingers dancing across her ribs. Helena's weight settled on top of her, covering both of them, and Helena's words were in her ear, in Italian, saying Zinda didn't know the half of it. Barbara knew that she was loved, and that she had a very skilled pilot.