Warn her

You hesitated, your throat dry—Hypnotic’s fingers twitched at his sides, already weaving invisible patterns in the air. Dove’s frown deepened. “What’s wrong with you?” she snapped, stepping closer, oblivious to the danger creeping up behind her. Hypnotic’s smile widened, his lips forming silent words as his hands moved in slow, mesmerizing arcs. You swallowed hard—Penguin paid well for captured vigilantes, but Dove had just been helping that homeless man. Your fingers twitched toward your pocket, where Montoya’s card burned like a guilty secret.

"Look out, behind you!" you blurted, pointing past Dove's shoulder—Hypnotic's fingers froze mid-gesture as the vigilante whirled, her escrima stick already drawn and crackling with electricity. Her movement was so fast it left an afterimage of blue and white in the gloom. Hypnotic barely had time to snarl before Dove's boot connected with his ribs, sending him crashing into a pile of soggy cardboard boxes. His carefully constructed hypnosis shattered like cheap glass.

Dove turned back to you, her stance still coiled for combat, but her eyes were different now—less disgusted, more calculating. "You...you saved me," she said, her voice softening just slightly. Hypnotic groaned in the garbage pile behind her, clutching his ribs. You shrugged, adrenaline still buzzing in your veins. "Yeah, well, I owed you one."

A few minutes later, Dove loaded Hypnotic into the back of a Police car, giving him a final glance before shutting the door. She then turned back to you, wiping her hands off on her hips—though her suit was already smeared with grime and garbage from the scuffle. “Most guys would’ve taken the payout and let Penguin’s goons have their way,” she admitted, studying you with a tilt of her head. “Why didn’t you?”

"I don't know, it's just I saw you helping that homeless guy before," you muttered, kicking a loose bottle cap with your sneaker. "Most vigilantes—the ones I've met, anyway—just crack skulls and disappear." The admission tasted bitter; you could still feel Black Bat's fist in your memory. Dove's posture shifted—not relaxed exactly, but less like a coiled spring. "Not all of us wear capes to break jaws," she said quietly, brushing wet hair from her domino mask.

The moment stretched too long, the air thick with rain and unsaid things. Then Dove looked down at your crotch and saw you were still rock-hard—your jeans tented obscenely despite everything. She snorted, shaking her head. "Seriously? Even after all that?" You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but she cut you off with a gloved hand. "You know what? Fine." She grabbed your collar and shoved you back against the alley wall, her free hand already undoing your belt buckle with rough efficiency. "Consider this your reward," she muttered, dropping to her knees in the filth.

Her mouth was hot and sudden—no teasing, just raw suction that made your knees buckle. Dove worked you with clinical precision, her gloved fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. The scrape of her mask against your skin contrasted sharply with the wet heat of her tongue. The wail of the police car carrying Hypnotic faded as they drove away—leaving just the slick sounds of her mouth and your ragged breathing in the rain-slicked alley.

Between strokes, she locked eyes with you—her gaze fierce despite the compromising position—as if daring you to look away. You tangled a hand in her damp hair, not guiding, just anchoring yourself as she took you deeper. The alley smelled of garbage and ozone from her electrified escrima sticks, but all you could focus on was the way her throat fluttered around you. She gagged once, tears springing to her eyes, but didn’t pull back—just swallowed convulsively, her nails biting into your thighs.

Then, without warning, her free hand yanked down her own spandex leggings, revealing toned hips already glistening with arousal. She broke the suction with a wet pop. She spotted Hypnotic's goggles on the ground—still intact—and grabbed them. "Put these on," she ordered, shoving them into your hands. You look on shocked as she encourages you, "Go on, put them on and use them on me, turn me into a mindless slut."

"Erm, wait what?" you stammered, staring at the goggles—still warm from Hypnotic’s forehead—as Dove spread her thighs wider, her gloved fingers dipping between them with a wet sound. "You're joking, right? These things are dangerous—" She cut you off with a sharp tug on your erection, her other hand pressing the goggles into your palm insistently. "I know, everyone thinks I'm this good, vanilla girl," she hissed, breath coming faster as she rubbed circles against herself, "But secretly, I've got a peril kink. I like it when bad guys beat me," she confessed, voice dropping to a whisper. "And despite saving me from him, I can tell you are a very bad boy. Unless you don't want to turn me into your good little slut?"