Order at the coast

The pizza guy wasn’t sure what was more unusual. The fact that Tony had sent him on a delivery to a lighthouse, or the fact that there even was a lighthouse on Gotham’s rocky coastline.

Getting out of the car, he smelled salt and fog. Fog was semi-common in Gotham, but there was a coal-ish tint to it. It was almost nasty. A smog that the citizens got adjusted to. Here, the salt made the smog go away. Waves crashed against the jagged cliffs below as he carefully climbed the final stone steps leading to the towering, weatherworn structure perched like a lonely sentinel on the edge of the world.

He knocked.

Once.

Twice.

‘I swear, did a ghost order?’ He looked up. There were circular windows and he swore he saw someone moving.

Upon the third knock, the door opened… and his soul nearly left his body.

Standing before him was a redhead that looked like she had just gone for a bath. Or something. Dripping wet, strands of red hair clinging to her shoulders, ocean spray sparkling against her impossibly flawless skin, a woman in both height and presence was a breath-stopping figure. Emerald eyes glowed with an intensity that didn’t belong to mortals, and her form-fitting sea-green bodysuit, peeled partially down to reveal a generous amount of cleavage. A single strand of gold wrapped around one thigh.

She wasn’t looking at him. That gave him time to look away from her boobs and up at her face.

‘A-Aquawoman…!’

Aquaman’s wife! A literal queen! His pants tightened. His dick stirred. This was a married woman? Seriously? A-and here of all places? It didn’t make sense. It didn’t compute.

“Mm. Do not be concerned, it’s nothing.”

The peeling of the bodysuit showed half of her breasts. It was…wow. And that waist…talk about slutty. For a queen, weren’t there rules? Or was Atlantean culture different? More…risque?

Also, she was NOT speaking to him. She was…talking to herself? Or something? Her head was tilted to the side, away from the pizza man.

“I understand,” Aquawoman said. “Yes. I know, I get it.”

‘Aquawoman,’ the pizza guy thought, trying not to audibly gulp.

Queen Mera.

Leader of Atlantis. Member of the Justice League. Unquestionable smokeshow. The King of Atlantis was a very lucky man.

MEra glanced at him briefly, her wet hair cascading down over one shoulder. “Inside,” she said, as if addressing a footman.

He blinked. “Y-yes, your—uh—majesty? Uh—right away.”

Mera didn’t respond. She merely turned, and he tried very, very hard not to stare at the way her suit framed her ass cheeks. Her butt wasn’t cartoonish or exaggerated. No, it was sculpted—regal, even, like it had been carved from marble by some artist obsessed with curves and symmetry. Round, firm, powerful, the kind of shape that made it impossible to forget that Mera wasn’t just royalty—she was a woman that fucked. That dropped down on dick with an amazing ass.

Lucky bastard her husband was.

He followed inside, the lighthouse interior dim and smelling faintly of seawater and old wood. She gestured at a table without breaking her conversation.

He placed the pizza there and stood still, unsure if bowing was appropriate or ridiculous. She was quiet and looking away.

‘No phone or bluetooth…’ The pizza guy squinted. ‘Is this…telepathy? Is she talking to someone with telepathy.’

“Very well,” Mera said into the air, still pacing barefoot across the tiled floor. “Then we’re agreed. I’ll maintain this post for the next twenty-four hours. Contact me only if the anomaly spikes.”

Queen Mera turned to face him fully.

The shift in her posture alone was enough to send a chill down his spine. She didn’t just stand. She commanded the room.

“This pizza,” she said, pointing at the box, “was not for me.”

“O-oh,” the pizza guy said, eyes darting nervously. “Uh… sorry?”

Mera narrowed her eyes, though not unkindly. “The man who owns this lighthouse placed the order. I have temporarily assumed control of this location under authority granted to me by the Justice League.”

The pizza guy nodded like that made complete sense. “Right. So…”

What was she trying to say? She opened the door and let him inside. Why not just turn him away if it wasn’t hers?

Mera turned her hand palm-up. Water from seemingly nowhere rose into the air in a perfect sphere, gliding past him. It hovered behind the couch and then, with a flick of her wrist, splashed downward with just enough **** to reveal a man lying **** on the floor behind it.

The pizza guy jumped.

Queen Mera strode over, knelt beside the man, and plucked his wallet from his damp jeans. She extracted a few bills, counted them with all the care of royalty handling tribute, and walked back to him.

Mera placed the exact amount in his hand. No tip.

“This exchange is not to be mentioned,” Mera said calmly. “You will bring the same order to this location at the same time tomorrow. And again the next day. Until I declare otherwise.”

S-so she wanted the food but didn't want anyone to know. The pizza guy nodded furiously. “Y-yes. Of course. Not a word.”

“You are dismissed,” Mera said flatly.

He bowed—yes, bowed, like some kind of medieval page—and backed toward the door, heart pounding.

As he reached the threshold, she turned her back to him and picked up the pizza box. She opened it, examined the contents with the scrutiny of a sovereign inspecting an offering, and made no further comment.

He left without another word. The door shut behind him.

The lighthouse loomed against the night sky.

He climbed back down the pathway to his car and muttered to himself, “Yeah, no way anyone at the shop’s gonna believe this one…”

He met a literal princess. A woman with an amazing ass. Phew. He was probably going to have to jerk off to this tonight. Maybe. Assuming Supergirl didn't show up or something. Or Kara.

Huh. Did he finally have women in his life?