Pillow talk with Mera

Fortunately, they did not. An hour later, the old living room of the lighthouse was quiet, lit only by the flicker of the fireplace and the occasional sweep of the lighthouse beam through the tall windows.

Queen Mera sat curled on one end of the weathered leather couch, her red hair tousled, damp at the tips, cascading down over her bare shoulders. A blanket—stolen from the back of the couch—was loosely wrapped around her, held more for modesty than warmth.

Across from her, the pizza guy sat in matching stillness, wearing a similar blanket across his lap. A half-finished mug of lukewarm tea sat forgotten in his hands. The pizza was fully eaten too. He wasn’t sure what to say. The sea had stilled. The chaos of the night had passed.

There was an old television on the table a foot away from them. Small and cube-shaped and only capable of Gotham City cable news. The pizza guy glanced over. There was a single block of space between himself and the married queen. It was over but the weight of their session still lingered between them.

“So, um…”

“Thank you,” Mera said at last, her voice hushed, the usual regal firmness softened by exhaustion and something gentler. “For taking care of me after…”

Getting fucked silly. Yeah. Kind of understandable that it was difficult to say outloud.

“I’m just here to help,” he said, giving her a small smile.

Queen Mera exhaled, folding her arms around her knees. “I don’t usually… talk much after battle. Or after things like this.” She glanced at him, a flicker of something thoughtful in her gaze. “With Arthur, we were mostly quiet.”

“I get it.”

A few heartbeats passed in silence.

Then Mera’s expression shifted, just slightly. Her posture softened. The hard line of her jaw gave way to something more unsure.

She turned toward him slowly. “My twin sister Hila… used a spell. One that fools the mind, to make me attack our common people. Arthur—as king—could not let that go. The people saw. He saw. And the League... most of them don’t believe me.” Her jaw tensed again. “Only Batman and Superman do.”

The pizza guy blinked. “That… sounds incredibly messed up.”

“It is.” Mera gave a bitter little laugh. “And I have **** but to wait. Here. In exile. Watching while someone else wears my face, my crown... and sleeps in my place.”

“She, uh, already got to him?”

“She did. She had already made moves by training our daughter. I should have realized that she was acting not as an aunt but a greedy bitch.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. How could he?

“I wasn’t supposed to feel anything. Not here. Not for anyone else.” Her voice dropped, tinged with guilt now. “But last night… I did. And not just desire.”

He looked over at her—really looked. The way she kept her posture proud even in emotional pain. The way she looked at him like he wasn’t just a distraction. Like he had seen something she hadn’t meant to show. Queen Mera slowly crawled across the couch with careful, regal grace. Her blanket rustled softly, but she didn’t stop. She moved closer, placed her hand gently on his chest, and met his eyes.

Then she leaned in, slowly, tilting her head just enough for a kiss. The pizza guy gently stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Mera…” he said, softly.

She stopped. She was hurt as a woman, not a queen. “Why?”

“Look… I know this whole thing’s confusing. It’s been confusing for me, too. I’m just a guy with a pizza bag. You’re literally royalty. I’m not judging what happened. I don’t regret it. But kissing you… that’s different. That’s not just passion or comfort. That’s something else. Something… real.” He hesitated. “And I don’t want that to be something you do just to forget someone else.”

Mera’s gaze dropped to the space between them. The flickering fire reflected in her eyes. She withdrew her hand, slowly sitting back, arms folding around herself.

“You’re right,” Mera said quietly. “I just… didn’t want to feel alone.”

“You’re not,” he said gently. “Not now. Not here.”

Queen Mera looked at him again, softer than ever before. The confidence she once opened the door with was confidence. This was not Queen Mera, this was just Mera. This was just a woman who experienced normal, ordinary emotions. She wanted sex. She wanted a husband. She wanted to kill her sister. She wanted to go back to her family and her kingdom.

All these desires and she could only have one of them.

"You are as wise as you are hung,, pizza man," Mera said with a certain smile. In other words, it was a joke. It was nice to hear.

He gave her a lopsided smile. “Also, not gonna lie, I don’t want your Atlantean husband showing up and drowning me.”

That pulled a breathy laugh from her. “That is fair. But do not fear, I am stronger than my husband. No harm will come to you."

“R-really? You're stronger than Aquaman?”

Mera put a finger to her lip. “Do not tell my people. Consider it a secret.”

He laughed. They both leaned back, the warmth of the fire between them, the early morning light painting shadows along the stone floor. For now, they sat. Not as queen and commoner. Not as hero and bystander. Just as two people in the eye of something much bigger, holding on to the one honest connection they had.

“Speaking of secrets, I do not mean to offend, but do you humans really show your sex lives to one another? That sounds…bizarre to me.”

Oh boy.