aFireFist
A Life in DC
Chapter 10 - Part 2
Vieri sat at his desk finishing up the last of the paperwork, keeping his head down. His shirt still smelled faintly like sex and jasmine no matter how many times he'd changed. The scratches on his arms were hidden under long sleeves, but he could feel every one of them.
Renee Montoya walked up to his desk with purpose. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail, the white button-down stretched nicely across her full C-cup tits. The dark slacks hugged her solid hips and the firm, rounded shape of her runner's ass. She looked every bit the professional detective, but there was a faint flush on her olive cheeks and she stood a little closer than usual.
"Vieri," she said, voice low. "My office. Now."
He nodded and followed her across the bullpen. A few heads turned, but nobody said anything. They all knew the raid had been a disaster.
Montoya closed the door behind them once they were inside her small office. The space smelled like burnt coffee and her usual light perfume. She leaned against the edge of her desk, arms crossed under her breasts, which pushed them up noticeably against the fabric of her shirt.
"So," she started, "IA was here again this morning. Spent forty minutes grilling me about the raid. They're calling it a complete clusterfuck. Pollen-zonked officers, three high-profile targets in the wind, and zero arrests. They wanted to know why we didn't have better containment, why the vines got so out of hand, and why half the team looked like they'd been at a fucking orgy instead of a bust."
Vieri sat in the chair across from her desk. "What'd you tell them?"
"I told them exactly what's in the report I wrote," Montoya said, rubbing her temple. "You got hit especially hard by Ivy's pollen. That explained the messy clothes, the dazed look, the scratches. I backed it up with statements from the other guys who were still loopy. They weren't happy, but they couldn't prove anything else. For now."
She let out a frustrated breath and looked at him. "They're making this a big failure, Vieri. Captain's already getting pressure from upstairs. One more screw-up like that and the task force might get shut down before we even get started. They kept asking about you specifically. 'Why was Officer Oronzo the only one who came out looking like he'd been in a fight and a fuck at the same time?'"
Vieri gave a tired shrug. "Guess I just have that kind of luck."
Montoya's lips twitched like she wanted to smile but wouldn't let herself. She stepped closer, golden-brown eyes flicking over his face, then down his body for a second longer than necessary. "Yeah, well, your 'luck' is making my job harder. I covered for you again. Said the pollen hit you harder because you were closest when Ivy dropped that big vine burst. Mostly true, anyway."
"Thanks, Montoya," Vieri said sincerely. "I owe you one. Seriously."
She waved it off, but her cheeks stayed flushed. She shifted her weight, thighs pressing together slightly under the dark slacks. "Just try not to make it a habit. We've got enough eyes on us already."
They stood in silence for a beat. Vieri could see the faint outline of her nipples through her bra and shirt. The pollen was definitely still fucking with her. He could feel it too — that low, warm buzz under his skin that made it hard to think straight.
Montoya cleared her throat. "So," she started, arms still crossed, pushing her tits up even more. "You and Sawyer. What the hell was that yesterday after the raid? She had her hand on your dick right in the middle of the lot, in front of half the damn team."
Vieri blinked. Not about the raid. Okay. Some of the tension drained out of his shoulders. "It was the pollen. You saw how everyone was acting. People were out of it."
Montoya's jaw tightened. She stepped closer, eyes flicking over his face, then down his body again. "I saw. But she was bold as hell about it. And you didn't exactly push her away." Her voice dropped lower. "I covered for you in the report. Again."
Vieri noticed the way her thighs pressed together, the subtle shift in her stance. Her nipples were visibly harder now against the fabric. The pollen was still messing with both of them.
"Thanks, Montoya. I owe you," he said again, keeping his voice steady.
The door opened suddenly without a knock. Maggie Sawyer stepped in and closed it behind her, closing the door behind quietly. The tall detective filled the space — 5'10", powerful thighs and wide hips filling out her tailored pants, heavy D-cup tits straining against her dark blouse, light brown hair pulled into a loose knot. She looked at both of them and smirked, blue eyes sharp.
"Talking about me?" she asked, leaning back against the door. Her gaze dropped straight to the front of Vieri's pants, then moved to Montoya. "Good. Saves time."
Montoya turned toward her, cheeks darkening. "Sawyer—"
"Cut the shit," Maggie said, voice direct and low. She pushed off the door and stepped forward, crowding Vieri against the desk. "We all still feel it. The pollen. I've been wet since yesterday. You too, Montoya. Don't lie." She reached down without hesitation and cupped the heavy bulge in Vieri's pants, squeezing firmly through the fabric. "And I want to know what the big deal is."
"Jesus," Maggie muttered, eyes widening slightly as she felt the full thickness. "It's real."
Montoya's breath hitched. She glanced at the locked door, then back at them, clear conflict written across her face. Her golden-brown eyes flicked between Vieri and Maggie, jaw tight, but her hand stayed on Vieri's arm, fingers pressing into his sleeve like she couldn't quite let go.
"Fuck it," she whispered, voice rough with need. "Lock the door."
Maggie twisted the lock with a soft click. The small office suddenly felt a lot smaller, the air thick and charged. The faint hum of the bullpen outside seemed miles away.
Montoya stood there breathing harder, her full C-cup tits rising and falling noticeably under the white button-down. The fabric stretched tight across her chest with every inhale. Maggie didn't waste any time. She stepped right up to Vieri, grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands, and kissed him hard. Her tongue pushed into his mouth right away, aggressive and hungry, tasting like coffee and pent-up frustration. At the same time her hand dropped down and squeezed his cock through his pants, feeling it thicken fast under her palm.
"Fuck, it's big," Maggie muttered against his lips, giving him another firm squeeze. "No wonder Montoya's been acting weird around you."
Montoya watched for half a second, a flash of jealousy crossing her face, but the lingering pollen was clearly winning. She moved in on Vieri's other side, grabbed his jaw with one hand, and turned his head toward her. She kissed him deep, her tongue sliding hot and needy against his while Maggie kept stroking his cock through his pants. The two women pressed their bodies tight against him — Montoya's firm runner's ass and solid thighs on one side, Maggie's thicker, powerful legs and heavy D-cup tits on the other.
Vieri groaned low in his throat. His hands moved on their own. One slid down to grab Montoya's ass, squeezing the tight, athletic muscle through her dark slacks. The other reached for Maggie, palming one of her heavy tits and feeling the soft, full weight spill over his fingers. He could feel her hard nipple pressing against his palm.
"Desk," Montoya said, voice rough and breathless. She shoved some papers and a coffee mug aside with her arm. Maggie helped, sweeping the rest of the clutter to the floor without caring where it landed.
Vieri sat on the edge of the desk. Maggie dropped to her knees first, her powerful thighs flexing as she knelt. She yanked his zipper down eagerly.
{R-18 Scene Vieri x Renee Montoya x Maggie Sawyer 3402 Full Word Count aFireFist on p.a.t.r.e.o.n}
"Fuck… we needed this," Maggie panted, wiping a smear of cum from Montoya's chin and licking it clean.
Montoya nodded, still catching her breath. "But we can't do this here again. Someone's bound to notice."
They cleaned up quickly, straightening clothes and wiping down surfaces. Vieri tucked himself away, still half-hard and satisfied. The three shared one last heated look before slipping out of the office one by one, the faint smell of sex lingering in the air.
Clock Tower – Later That Night
Barbara Gordon sat at the center of her main console, legs pressed tightly together under the chair as if that could somehow contain the throbbing heat between them. The body-cam footage from the Kane Street raid had cut off abruptly the moment the bedroom door slammed shut, but the audio they'd managed to siphon through the hacked comms was more than enough. Harley's broken, ecstatic screams of "Daddy!" still echoed in her mind on loop. The wet, rhythmic slapping of flesh, the desperate female moans rising in overlapping waves, the unmistakable sound of a thick cock pounding into soaked, willing pussies — it was all burned into her brain like a brand.
Her red hair was slightly disheveled, a few strands sticking to her flushed neck. She wore her usual dark tactical top, the material stretched across her full breasts, nipples visibly stiff and pressing against the fabric. One hand rested on the keyboard while the other had slipped between her thighs again, pressing firmly against the seam of her suit right over her aching core. She hadn't realized she was doing it until the pressure made her hips twitch.
Stephanie Brown leaned casually against the console beside her, but there was nothing casual about the way her thick, rounded ass rested on the edge of the panel, the purple-and-black Spoiler suit hugging every curve. Her full, bouncy D-cup tits strained heavily against the material, the zipper pulled low enough that soft inner cleavage spilled out with every breath. Her cheeks were pink, blue eyes sparkling with mischief and unmistakable arousal as she replayed the same short clip for the sixth time.
"I've watched that clip like six times already," Steph admitted with a breathy laugh, biting her lower lip. "The way he just handled all three of them… Jesus. You could hear how soaked they were. Harley screaming 'Daddy' while he wrecked her, Selina trying to act like she owned him, and Ivy straight-up praying to his cock? I'm actually jealous of Gotham's most dangerous bitches right now."
Cassandra Cain stood silently right behind them, arms crossed under her chest, but her usual calm, unreadable demeanor had completely cracked. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, her firm, perfectly sculpted ass flexing noticeably inside the tight black Orphan suit. The sleek material clung to her compact, athletic body like a second skin — defined shoulders, narrow waist, and powerful thighs that looked ready to crush. A faint flush colored her cheeks, and her dark eyes were locked on the screen with intense focus.
She signed quickly, her movements sharp and decisive: He's strong. They all wanted him. Badly.
Barbara rubbed her temples with her free hand, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but her other hand continued pressing rhythmically against the seam of her suit, seeking friction. "We can't keep doing this," she said, though her voice came out far too breathy to be convincing. "It's distracting. We're supposed to be monitoring the city, not… not getting off to hacked raid footage."
Steph let out a soft, knowing laugh and leaned closer, her heavy breasts brushing against Barbara's shoulder. "Babs, you're literally touching yourself right now. Don't even try it." She bit her lip harder, eyes sparkling with wicked delight. "That cop… Vieri. He's got something special. The way those three dangerous bitches were losing their minds over him? Harley calling him Daddy while she got railed, Selina's usual attitude completely broken, Ivy talking about the Green singing inside her pussy? I need to see it up close. I need to feel what makes trained killers turn into desperate little cumsluts like that."
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